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indeed be her rainbow. The man's guilt drove him to relentlessly try to win Carlotta's forgiveness. Of course, she could never forgive him, but she could pretend to absolve him of guilt. . .while accepting any generous offering he might happen to throw her way.
    The very thought of having Stevie here, though, sent her heart racing. She had no experience at being a mother. Stephen had been killed when Stevie was but one month old. Carlotta was still recuperating from her lying-in when she had plunged into a deep and devastating grief. Scarcely a month before she had lost her husband, her only brother been slain in battle. Then she had lost Stephen, too. The only time she'd had sole responsibility for her babe was when she had sailed home to England with him. As if sensing his father's demise, Stevie had cried incessantly, and nothing she did would satisfy him.
    By the time she reached London—and Gran's comforting presence—Carlotta had been content to turn over the babe to Gran's care.
    Even when her grandmother returned to Yorkshire.
    Thank goodness Lord Rutledge stood by willing to offer assistance with her son. Let him have the responsibility for the boy! Clearly, the man desired to bring Stevie to Bath, and by having him here Carlotta could better manipulate Lord Rutledge . . . and his hefty purse.
    She looked around her shabby drawing room. Perhaps Lord Rutledge would even wish to provide a finer place for the lad and her to live. A smile curving her lips, Carlotta vowed to see that he did.
    * * *
    The day Mannington left, James found himself wondering each hour how far his valet had gone and when he would reach Yorkshire. Time after time he would count on his fingers the amount of days he calculated it to take before he could expect to see Stevie Ennis. He tried to picture the lad as a miniature version of his noble father. Captain Ennis had been possessed of a head of light brown hair that had likely been blond when he was the boy's age. Therefore, James imagined the boy with hair the color of newly minted gold. Would the absence of his parents have rendered the lad solemn? Such thoughts twisted at James's heart. He pledged to do everything in his power to compensate the boy for depriving him of a father.
    More than once James winced from guilt. For it was he—and not the slain captain—who was deriving immense satisfaction from Stephen Ennis's lovely wife and he who hoped to become a father to Captain Ennis's young son.
    He hoped his manipulations could result in Carlotta becoming a true mother to her son. A frown pierced James's countenance as he momentarily wondered again at the deprivation of mother who could relinquish her ties to her only child.
    James had much to do to compensate the boy. In his entire life James had never been driven by such purpose. Not when he had risen to the top of his class at Sandhurst. Not when he stood near the victorious Wellington at Waterloo. Not even when he had inherited the earldom. But now—now that he was supplanting Stephen Ennis—James burst with plans and hope and eagerly looked forward to each new day.
    This day he wished to accompany Mrs. Ennis to the Pump Room. He liked to think that her health was being restored by his attentions, but it would not hurt for her to take the water there. He would try anything that might restore the rose in her pale cheeks.
    As he walked beneath fair skies to her lodgings, James stopped and bought her posies and purchased a smaller bouquet for her landlady.
    “Oh, your lordship, you're much too kind,” the rotund Mrs. McKay soon squealed with delight as he presented them to her when she answered his knock.
    “'Tis small repayment for your many kindnesses to Mrs. Ennis,” he answered as he turned away and mounted the stairs to Carlotta's rooms.
    Oddly, whenever he was about to behold Mrs. Ennis, James's stomach behaved in a most peculiar manner, not unlike one who feared falling on his face in front of the queen.
    Carlotta's maid