To Wed A Viscount Read Free Page A

experience. In all of his thirty-three years there had never been a child.
    â€œWhere do you live? Who cares for the boy now that his mother is gone?” Griffin wanted to know.
    â€œWe live with the child’s grandfather, Mr. Joshua Morton, out on the Sommerville Plantation.” The maid stroked the boy’s shoulder, and he nestled closer. “I watch over him as I have done since he was born.”
    Griffin frowned. Perhaps this was a mistake. “The Joshua Morton I knew was a merchant trader, not a farmer.”
    The servant grimaced. “Mr. Morton bought the plantation and moved my mistress out of the city when her condition became too noticeable. Once she took up residence at the plantation, she never left. The master even buried her out there, refusing to bring her body to the church graveyard in town where her mother lies.”
    Griffin scratched his head. He needed time to think, time to straighten this all out. “I will speak with Joshua Morton early tomorrow morning.”
    â€œNo!” The servant stepped forward boldly, then glanced nervously down at the boy. She placed both arms around the child protectively. “My mistress never told her father who you were, sir. I know that he hates the man who ruined his daughter, nearly as much as he dislikes his grandson. I was only able to come here tonight because Mr. Morton is gone from the plantation. I fear greatly what he will do to me and the child if he finds out I have seen you.”
    A jolt of raw pain collided in Griffin’s stomach. He glanced down at the boy. Even in its childish innocence, that hauntingly familiar face, black hair, and gray eyes were so very much like his own that Griffin knew he could not possibly deny the truth. My son , he admitted. My flesh and blood. He has known little happiness in his short life.
    His conscience pinched him. Perhaps the first years of the boy’s life might have been different if he’d known of his existence, but Griffin could not be certain.
    â€œWhat is your name?” he asked softly.
    The child lowered his chin and stared silently down at the toes of his shoes.
    â€œHe is shy of strangers,” the servant apologized.
    â€œBut I am not a stranger, am I? I am his father.” Griffin swallowed his impatience and squatted down on his haunches, so they were at eye level. “What is your name?”
    The child lifted his head and regarded Griffin solemnly. “Neville,” he finally whispered.
    Neville! Griffin’s eyes began to sting, but he fought against the emotion. His brother had been named Neville. Few people knew that fact, but he distinctly remembered that Rosemary Morton had been one of those few.
    â€œI sail for England at the end of the month,” Griffin announced gruffly. Now that he had a son, the responsibilities of his newly acquired title suddenly seemed very important. “Can you be ready?”
    â€œYou want to take the child with you? Across the ocean?”
    Griffin watched as tears welled in the maid’s eyes and realized she had not considered this possibility. The child, seeing her distress, stroked her hand gently.
    â€œPerhaps it would be best not to separate him from you,” Griffin said slowly. “I will make the necessary arrangements with Morton for you to accompany us. Once we arrive in England, I shall grant you your freedom,” he added impulsively. “You may continue as the boy’s nursemaid until he goes away to school.”
    The young woman took a deep, shuttering breath and lifted her chin. “I am not a slave. I’m a free woman, bound to no man or mistress. But I cannot leave my mother and sisters. I will come with you, to care for the child on the long journey, but you must promise to pay my return passage so I can come home to them.”
    Griffin nodded in agreement. “Passage can be arranged back to the Colonies on one of my ships.” He reached out and gently ruffled the