Page 51 of A Waltz on the Wild Side (The Wild Wynchesters #6)

“I used to think the answer was no,” he said at last. “I have a large family already, not to mention hordes of animals that pass in and out of my barn every year. A baby is a tremendous responsibility. Humans are the only species that’s completely helpless for years.”

“I’ve seen how protective you are of wildcats and pythons,” Viv acknowledged.

“And those can take care of themselves,” he agreed. “I guess they’d have to. It would be hard not to spend every minute watching over my baby.”

“That’s impossible for anyone to do. You need sleep, for one. Plus, there are clients who need your help with missions.”

“You see my conundrum.”

“You could hire a nanny,” she suggested.

“I want an army of nannies. Round-the-clock shifts. Armed with playthings and sweetmeats.”

“So you have thought about it. Presumably, this theoretical baby would not drop into your arms from a crane or spring forth from the sea?”

“A wife. Yes. One does tend to lead to the other.” He tilted his head. “Unless I were to adopt, which I am not opposed to. Our home does have an awful lot of empty bedchambers to fill.”

“You wish to avoid marriage altogether?”

“Not at all,” he said softly. “I would very much like a wife. Whether she’d want…”

The carriage stopped suddenly, throwing them off-balance.

He turned toward the window. “What in the… Why, the duke’s coach just stopped in front of ours! His driver halted so abruptly, our horses nearly trampled into their wheels. What the devil is Faircliffe about?”

“We arrived at the same time,” said Viv. “Maybe he didn’t see us behind him. Is the door to their home wide open? I see—”

Chloe .

The Duchess of Faircliffe was up ahead. She’d fled from her house in stocking feet with her infant clutched in her arms, her face pale as milk and her brown eyes wild.

Viv scrambled from the carriage as fast as she could, with Jacob right behind her.

“Chloe,” she called out. “Are you all right?”

A foolish question. The duchess was very far from all right.

Faircliffe was faster, sprinting across the grass to gather his wife and baby in his arms. He was clearly as lost as Viv and Jacob were, but he wrapped his arms around Chloe and pressed a kiss to the top of her bare head, his face confused and his eyes afraid.

A maid trudged out the door, sobbing, a valise in her hand and her gaze never leaving her shoes.

“Chloe, what’s going on?” Faircliffe murmured, his tone calm but urgent. “Where’s Hastings?”

“He quit his post,” said the maid without looking up. “I was dismissed from mine.”

“Hastings quit ?” Faircliffe goggled at the maid. “He’s been butler here since I was a child. Chloe, darling, please. What on earth has happened?”

“Take Dory,” she mumbled. “Hold him tight.”

Faircliffe did as instructed. Viv and Jacob flanked his sides.

“This is what happened.” Chloe pulled a folded piece of parchment from her bosom. The paper rattled in her shaking fingers as she handed it to Viv. “You read it. I can’t look at that again.”

The two men crowded over Viv’s shoulders as she unfolded the note.

You’re lucky the cradle was empty.

If you don’t want it to stay that way,

no more rhetoric about voting reform.

Viv’s mouth fell open.

“Where did you find this?” Faircliffe demanded, his voice as shaky as Chloe’s fingers.

“In Dory’s cradle.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Leisterdale was in our home . In Dory’s nursery . If I hadn’t been taking a nap with the baby in our room…”

Dory gurgled, oblivious to the shocked adults surrounding him.

“I don’t understand,” said Viv. “How did the kidnapper get inside your house?”

“He said ‘May I come in?’” Chloe answered bitterly. “And our butler let him in.”

“Hastings let a madman walk into our home?” Faircliffe said in disbelief.

“Let me guess,” Jacob said, his tone ironic. “Your unwelcome visitor didn’t ‘look’ like an undesirable. He looked like what he is: a lord. White, wealthy, male, upper-class accent… How am I doing?”

Chloe took an unsteady breath. “That’s exactly it.

Leisterdale didn’t even offer a calling card.

To our butler’s credit, Hastings left him in the parlor while he went to find me.

Only the soulless blackguard didn’t stay there.

Leisterdale strolled through our home as if he owned it. And then when this worthless creature—”

The maid cringed.

“—passed him in the corridor, he asked bold as brass where to find the nursery, and she told him. Then carried on her way as if nothing at all was amiss.”

“He seemed important,” she mumbled. “Like you said, a lord or some such. I reckoned he was a friend of Your Graces, if he had the run of the house like that.”

“You think we’re the sort of parents who would grant strange men access to Dory’s nursery, as long as they have a title?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace. I wasn’t thinking. He was such a fine gentleman, and I just… wanted to be helpful.”

“You wanted to help a kidnapper, you mean?” Chloe’s face was bright red.

The maid burst into tears and hobbled down the road, dragging her valise after her.

“Wait,” Viv called out to stop her.

“I’m sacked,” the maid called out without slowing. “They can keep my last month’s wages.”

“Run after her,” Viv told Jacob.

“No, let her go.” Chloe pressed her wet cheek against her baby’s soft night rail. “I want nothing to do with her.”

“You’d better,” said Viv.

Chloe’s eyes flashed. “Who do you think you are to tell me how I should feel and act when my flesh and blood was… almost… kidnapped.”

Her sharp voice trailed off as she realized Viv had a very good idea indeed how that might feel.

“I know you’re angry and scared,” Viv said softly. “But you can’t send away the only eyewitnesses to Leisterdale’s latest attempted abduction.”

“Shite.” Jacob took off running after the maid.

“Find Hastings, too!” called out Faircliffe.

Without slowing, Jacob touched his hand to his chest and lifted his fingers to the sky.

Viv reread the ominous note. She barely restrained herself from crumpling the threat in her fist.

Jacob was one of the most famous poets in England, and he wasn’t allowed across the threshold of his own publisher.

Whereas some well-heeled blackmailer with the right clothes, color, and accent was allowed to waltz into a duke’s town home and nearly steal a baby without anyone blinking.