The Last Gamble. Anabelle Bryant

not his reputation.

      He’d watched the cottage until midnight, although a light hadn’t shown in the window since ten in the evening, and then he’d muttered a Good night, Miss Smith and returned to the inn. She was a creature of the daylight and his opposite, no doubt, though he would take no chances.

      Now, as he waited from afar, the governess approached the teashop without the company of her dog, her ungloved hands poised against the simple lines of her day gown. He couldn’t help but notice the soft sashay of her hips, though her face expressed a businesslike demeanour and he wondered again if she worked in collusion with Dursley or was an innocent victim, the same as he.

      ‘Miss Smith, thank you for agreeing to this meeting.’ He pushed from the corner of the teashop and forced a smile, impatience prodding he get their conversation underway.

      ‘How do you know my name?’ She reared back, another layer of defence added to the tightly secured countenance she’d brought to the teashop instead of her pug.

      ‘I’m Mr Reese. Luke, if you’d like. Now that we know each other’s name there’s no room for enmity. I assure you I mean no harm. Let’s find a table and order refreshment while I explain.’ He didn’t leave her time to object and opened the shop door to motion her inside where he obtained a table and requested a pot of tea. How he would have preferred a brandy despite it was barely ten in the morning. When she’d brushed past him at the entrance he’d thought he detected the scent of apricots, but dismissed this as foolishness, most especially when the vibrant interior of the cheerful shop smelled of steeped black tea leaves.

      ‘Very well then. How may I help you, Mr Reese?’ She placed her reticule on the damask tablecloth and he noticed her long, delicate fingers trembled for a reason he could not imagine.

      ‘I’m looking for someone and hope you’ll assist in my search.’

      She waited, not a question on her lips, though he noticed she nibbled the lower one in hesitation or unfounded trepidation.

      ‘My son was taken from me and I need to locate his whereabouts.’ There was no easy way to phrase it and the automatic assumption that he’d done something wrong or perpetuated an offence which had led to the removal of his son was something he was fully prepared to defend. ‘His name is Nathaniel and I believe you may know him.’

      ‘Nate?’ Miss Smith’s eyes lit with instant recognition and his heart nearly leapt from his chest. ‘But that can’t be true.’ She shook away her immediate response. ‘Nathaniel’s father is deceased. His uncle cares for him now.’

      Bloody hell, he would kill his half-brother for that lie.

      ‘That’s not the truth. I am his father.’ He hastily accepted the teapot and service from the shop’s girl, anxious for her to rid the table so he could continue. ‘And I’m desperate to find him. Do you know where he is?’

      ‘I see it now.’ She smiled, seemingly more at ease. ‘The dark hair and light eyes, although yours are almost silver, aren’t they?’ She leaned forward slowly, her eyes matched with his. ‘Nate’s possessed a bluer hue.’

      Engrossed in her description, she appeared unaware how he hung on each word, though his heart overflowed with relief. She knew Nate and possibly his current whereabouts.

      ‘With regret, I haven’t seen Nathaniel in almost a year or else I might be of better assistance.’ She looked down at her cup and took a polite sip of tea.

      Wrong – she didn’t know where Nate was at the moment. His chest grew tight as disappointment and anger were fast to smother hope. Yet all wasn’t lost. ‘Can you tell me everything you know of your interaction and the situation that brought you together?’ He tasted the pungent brew in his cup and again wished for brandy, although Miss Smith seemed pleased enough and daintily wiped her mouth after another sip.

      ‘You must be out of your mind with worry.’ Her features softened and her eyes found his, searching over his face and back again with sincere sympathy.

      She too had lovely blue eyes, almost the same shade as Nate, and long, graceful lashes. Now he viewed her closely, the governess proved quite pretty, some might even suggest fetching, in a fresh, uncontrived manner. He saw compassion in her eyes, and a new understanding of his predicament. Truly the qualities spoke of a genuine soul. ‘Yes. Perhaps with this new knowledge, you’ll excuse my poor manners at your doorstep yesterday.’

      ‘Of course. I had no idea and with worries of my own…’ Her voice trailed off, a signal she did not wish to elaborate. ‘I’m glad to tell you everything I know if it helps you locate your son. Your wife, how is she? She must be inconsolable. By heavens, I would be. The circumstances are terrible.’

      Her honest empathy soothed the unrelenting ache that lived inside him always, the desperate pain of hopelessness that increased each day he was unable to care for Nate, tuck him in at bedtime, hear his laughter or ensure he was safe. His brother had stolen parental privilege and paternal responsibility for no reason Luke could fathom. ‘Nate’s mother died three years ago. I doubt he has any clear memories of her although they share the same smile. At least she’s not here to see how I’ve failed in taking care of our son.’

      ‘I’m so sorry.’ She fiddled with her teacup at his bold confession. ‘It’s easy to see you are father and son. The man who placed Nate in my care for three weeks also possessed similar colouring.’

      ‘My half-brother, Viscount Dursley.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And before you suggest I seek legal recourse, you should know I was born on the wrong side of the blanket that deems my word worthless when spoken in challenge of a peer. I’m also a proprietor of The Underworld gaming hell.’

      She didn’t answer immediately despite her eyes flared with his last sentence. ‘Yes, Dursley, that’s how the viscount introduced himself, and for Nate he neglected use of the surname Reese.’

      ‘His lie concerning Nate’s parentage is just one in a long string of mistruths. He most likely changed my son’s name to fit his purpose.’

      ‘Sometimes people have no other choice.’ She seemed reluctant to continue for a beat and her delicate brows trestled with worry. ‘The viscount hired me as governess and paid me beforehand. When the three-week period concluded, he collected your son with no further word.’ A look of anguish flittered across her face as if disappointed with her involvement. ‘I never thought to ask more questions. Nate looked neither neglected nor unhappy. I didn’t believe it my place to pry and all appeared in order.’

      ‘As would be expected.’ He swallowed the bitter tea in his cup to wash away the taste of failure. There had to be more to the story. This couldn’t be all he’d gain from the only clue he possessed. He rejected that reality. ‘I’ve gathered bits of information here and there to indicate my half-brother is shuttling Nate to different locations in an attempt to keep his presence untraceable. I’ve had his townhouse watched for periods of time, his country estate, as well as any other place I could imagine he’d bring my son, but the search has yielded nothing.’

      ‘I see.’ She toyed with the handle of her teacup as if hesitant to continue. ‘You would be proud, if I may be so bold. Nathaniel is a fine young lad, bright as a new star and handsome to boot.’ She smiled and it eased the tightness in his chest another degree.

      ‘Thank you for that.’ The governess was kind as well as beautiful. Despite he lived daily with serious considerations on his mind, his body worked on another more elemental level, and he couldn’t help but notice the brilliance of Miss Smith’s smile and lovely appeal. ‘I find strength in the knowledge that Nathaniel is safe despite his whereabouts remain unknown. I don’t believe my half-brother will harm my son, but one can never be sure. People show different faces to the world depending on their necessity. Dursley perpetuates a veneer of honesty but he is no more than a manipulative cur.’ Her teacup rattled on the saucer as she replaced it. Perhaps he’d spoken too vehemently. ‘My apologies.’ He regretted upsetting her.

      ‘Think nothing of it.’

      Georgina