Page 61 of A Remarkable Rogue

Her eyes never left his. “That’s not what I meant.”

He turned back toward the window and quietly admitted, “I know.”

With that, the divide between them grew even wider.

After several minutes of painful, awkward silence, he finally moved away from the window and circled the room. His attention focused on the paintings on the walls, on the fine furnishings…on everything but her.

“So.” He glanced around the large room whose only purpose was the comfort of guests, which was ironic since there were never any guests at Oakwood. “You bought this place for Robert.”

He wanted to talk about the farm? She frowned, confused. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have, the one theyneededto have. But at least he was speaking to her again.

“Two years ago.” Her shoulders slowly relaxed. “Robert was four and had just left the orphanage. He needed a stable home.”

She’d known nothing about farms or country houses then except that they seemed like a wonderful place for boys to be raised, amid fields and woods where they could run and play. More, Oakwood Manor sat just far enough away from London that she wouldn’t be able to impulsively travel here whenever the temptation struck her, which had entered her mind almost constantly in recent weeks.

“How big?”

She blinked at the unexpected question. “Pardon?”

“How big is the farm?”

“One thousand acres, roughly,” she answered, feeling an inexplicable awkwardness now at the questioning, wondering where this was leading. “It’s not a grand estate.”

“Tenants?”

“No.” That was one of the reasons she’d purchased this particular farm. There were fewer people connected to it who might grow suspicious that Robert lived here alone with only his governess and a handful of servants.

She stole another nervous glance toward the door. Where was Miss Jenner? The governess should have been here by now to greet them.

“And the house?” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling at the painting that luxuriously covered the plaster. A scene from Greek mythology with the nine Muses playing in a sunny glade, the decoration was a far cry from the wooden beams and plain plaster of Nate’s comfortable cottage.

An embarrassed blush heated her cheeks at all this opulence in a home for one little boy. “Thirty rooms or so, I’d imagine. But I’m certain most of them are closed off and never used.”

His gaze dropped to hers and pinned her where she stood. “You’ve never been here before.”

It was an accusation, not a question.

“No,” she answered defensively. “But I keep a dependable household staff who run and care for the farm.”

He said nothing for a moment, and she held her breath as she waited for the question she knew was poised next on the tip of his tongue…Do you really think a big house and servants can make up for your absence?She could hear his deep voice whispering it inside her head, filling her with fresh guilt.

Of course it couldn’t. But if she couldn’t be a true mother, then she could provide a safe, happy place for Robert to grow up. She could be a good mother in that much at least.

Instead of asking the question, though, Nate turned away. His attention drifted to the collection of curios in the corner cabinet. “And you hired the governess?”

“Yes. Miss Jenner worked for Lord Hawking’s nephew. The marquess recommended her very highly.” Unease rose inside her at his string of probing questions, at the governess’s failure to appear more quickly, and most of all, at the impending moment when she would meet her son. Her heart pounded so hard with trepidation that her rib cage ached. “I had an estate agent find the property, and Miss Jenner hired the staff. Mr. Beasley oversees the stables, the gardens, and everything without. Mrs. Larkin is the housekeeper and tends to everything within. There are also two maids of all work and a cook to help keep the house and more men to help outside with the stables and gardens. The house doesn’t require a large staff.”

“No one else who has access to the farm or house?”

“Only a few of the villagers who make deliveries or repairs…that sort of thing.” Her eyes widened. She suddenly realized why he was asking all these questions. “You don’t trust the staff.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Right now, I don’t trust anyone.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” Then she added softly, her voice solemn, “Not even me.”

His strong shoulders slumped beneath the rough tan jacket. “Sydney, please understand.” He blew out a harsh breath as he ran his fingers through his hair in open frustration. At least he had the decency this time not to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “I need time to think and sort through everything—”

The door opened, and a plain young woman walked into the room. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of spectacles. She wore a simple dress made of worsted wool, the style plain and unassuming. Her gaze landed on Sydney, and she began to smile pleasantly until she noticed Nate on the far side of the room. Her smile froze in place, only for a moment, but enough to register her surprise.