An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) Read Free Page A

you paint. We are all alone. Even in a crowded room it is possible to feel lonely.”
    “It is not the same circumstances.” Mrs. Hughes sat forward a little. “She will likely go to an orphanage unless I can find a home for her. She’s a pretty child, isn’t she?”
    He glanced at the child’s face. Now she was quiet and calm, her skin had changed from a mottled red to soft pink. Rounded cheeks spoke of a healthy child; squat nose; and a pair of murky dark-gray eyes that shifted to his own face when he spoke. He leaned closer, inhaling the scent of a newborn child and looking for traces of Vivian’s features in her appearance.
    He nudged the dark shawl away from her face a little bit.
    “You might safely unwrap her, my lord. The room is warm enough for the child not to become chilled.”
    He did so carefully, noting the child was long rather than wide. Still big for a newborn babe. The housekeeper had dressed her in a fine white muslin smock, embroidered with flowers at the hem, and her tiny legs were curled upward beneath the gown. Her fists clenched and unclenched haphazardly, revealing the tiniest pale fingernails he’d ever seen. He studied them carefully in fascination.
    When she squirmed, curling into a tighter ball and yawning, he was spellbound and used two hands to hold her still. There were no certain hints of Vivian in this creature, but was there any of himself? He inspected what he could see of the girl.
    Her ears were tiny shells beside her head, perhaps similar to his own in shape but he could not honestly recall the shape of Vivian’s. Her eyes were not the color of his but they were framed by a pair of straight dark brows, rather than the curve of Vivian’s elegant ones. Of course the color of her hair lacked the vibrancy of Vivian’s. Where this child was dark, Vivian had been the color of a bright sunset. And the dramatic widow’s peak Vivian had always accentuated was also absent from the babe’s appearance.
    The only reason to suspect the child was Vivian’s was Mrs. Hughes word. “She doesn’t look a bit like the late Mrs. Rose.”
    “Not yet. Children change as they age, my lord. Do you not have portraits of yourself at a young age that seem strange when compared to your current face?”
    He shifted in his chair as unwelcome remembrances of his childhood flooded him. She was correct. He’d hidden his childhood portraits the minute he’d come into his title. He’d been made to wear decidedly girlish curls as a boy, which was why he kept his dark hair cropped short now.
    He carefully turned the child’s head to the side. There at the back, previously hidden by the shawl, the babe’s short hair was crimped with the hint of a wave. He set the child back to rights, disturbed by that observation.
    Vivian’s hair had been straight and stubborn. She’d complained of it often enough upon waking in the morning that he remembered her ire all too well.
    Which meant the child could be his. He’d been Vivian’s protector nine months ago but it depended on who else had shared her bed. He had believed her to be faithful until she’d revealed her preference for another man. The housekeeper surely would know what Vivian had done behind his back. “What has Lord Fallon to say?”
    Mrs. Hughes glanced at the child. “Lord Fallon, of course, knew of the pregnancy early in their arrangement but the child does not resemble him in the slightest.”
    He rested his hand again on the child’s middle and earned a half-hearted grumble as his reward. “Did Mrs. Rose have any other gentlemen callers?”
    “There was only Lord Fallon, and he doted on her.” Mrs. Hughes swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry to be the bearer of such difficult news. Especially so long since parting ways.”
    Even after nine months, he experienced pain at the mention of Lord Fallon replacing him. He’d thought he’d doted on Vivian too and he’d done his best to make her happy.
    “I believe I can return the child to bed