A Little Bit Wild (York Family 1)

His stomach dropped. He put a hand beneath her chin. "What's wrong?"

"I received another note from Peter White."

"What's he done?"

"Nothing. He wants to meet tonight. At the stables."

"That scurrilous bastard. What time?" When Marissa put a hand on his arm, Jude realized that he'd clenched both his lists in anticipation of pounding Peter White's face in.

"Jude, I want to talk to him. But I want you to come along."

He took a deep breath, trying to cool his own surprising temper. "What is there to say? If you like, I can go on my own. Convince him to leave you alone."

"With your charm?"

"Of course."

"You don't look very charming right now."

He shrugged one shoulder and tried to look less violent.

"No, I want to speak with him. It's too soon to be sure. ... I didn't plan to say anything yet, but I'm ... my stomach feels quite... achy."

"Morning sickness?" he asked, as half the blood seemed to rush from his head.

"No. Not that."

"Oh," Jude said. "I see."

"I'll know for certain in a day or two, but I thought if I told him, he might finally give up."

"Ah, yes. That's clever. He'll leave you alone if he knows there's no hope." Jude wondered if he was talking about himself or Peter White. But that was ridiculous. Jude hadn't given up hope yet. Babe or no babe, Marissa had started opening up to him. "I'll come with you. It's nearly ten now."

"Thank you." Instead of taking his arm, Marissa reached for his hand, and they walked like that through the quiet dark, each keeping their thoughts close.

Hallway to the stables, she finally broke the silence.

"What was it like when you lived in your mother's home?"

"Well, I knew nothing different at First. It was a home like any other, full of servants and visitors and parties. A happy place, though sometimes not ideal for a child. My mother would send me away to the country with my nurse sometimes, and I was dreadfully lonely without her. She's warm and full of wit and laughter."

"It sounds strangely ideal."

"Oh, there was the occasional fight with a neighbor child who called her names, but ..." He shrugged those darker memories away. "But I was happy and loved."

He caught the glint of her eyes when she looked toward him. Her hand squeezed his. "When were you sent to live with your father? You were raised in his household, weren't you?"

"Yes." The heartbreak felt old as time now, and yet it still ached if touched.

"Jude—"

"It's neither tragic nor very dramatic. He married when I was three, and by the time I was eight, his family was established and he sent for me. My mother could hardly say no. He'd acknowledged me from the start, and she reminded me every day that I should be grateful for that generosity. And if he wanted to give me the life of a duke's son ..."

"But the duchess?"

"Oh, she was as understanding as she could be, under the circumstances. Not loving, but not cruel either. It helped that I had been born before they met, I'm sure. And my half brothers treated me as an older cousin. We were close enough. I would've been overjoyed with the arrangement if I hadn't been so homesick."

Marissa stopped and turned toward him. Her hand touched his face, shaping to fit his cheek. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine being sent away."