Free A Question for Harry by Angeline Fortin

her one-year-old, Lela, clasped firmly in her lap.
    Though Aylesbury was surprised by her casual acquiescence, he could only surmise that by the time a fourth child made its way into the world, a mother was far more incautious with its welfare. She would have to be, to risk his holding the child.
    Blinking, he turned back to Hannah, meeting her wide, adoring blue gaze . How did one say “no” to such a face, he wondered.
    How had he ever in his life been able to say “no” to a pleading pair of blue eyes?
    Regrets . So many regrets.
    Hesitantly, he reached out and took the infant, studiously minding Hannah’s instruction on the proper handling and management of such a newborn as wee Alice . Once ensconced snuggly in his arms, the baby looked up at him solemnly – again with compelling blue eyes! – and clasped his proffered finger in one surprisingly tight fist.
    He had come here in hopes of consolation, for friendship . Not for a further reminder everywhere he looked of his plight. Bloody hell, but he needed to be saved from this den of domesticity!
    But there was no escape . None at all, he knew for certain when Moira’s soft burr cut through the low din of the children as they returned to their playtime. “So, Harry, what has you so troubled?”
    “ Troubled?” he parroted as innocently as possible.
    But Moira was no fool . She had sensed that something was troubling her dear old friend straight away, but was determined to set him at ease until she could determine what was the matter. Harry wasn’t normally one to be beset by a case of the doldrums, but she knew from experience that when he was, only time, comfort, and a stiff drink would encourage him to talk.
    Abby knew it as well and rose, moving to the sideboard where she poured a healthy snifter of brandy despite the early hour and returned, pressing it into his free hand. “You fairly reek of troubles, Harry.”
    “Despair, even,” Moira chimed in.
    “I thought it more an aura of despondency,” Kitty remarked helpfully.
    “The afterglow of a scandalous evening?” Eve added, effectively informing him that they had heard about his hotheaded behavior the previous night.
    All five women turned their eyes to him and it was all Aylesbury – a peer of the realm – could do not to squirm in his seat. He looked from one lady to the next and around at the multitude of children dotting the carpet. “Perhaps, I might speak to Moira more privately?” he asked hopefully but quickly deflated at their stalwart stares. He shrugged. “I thought not. Well, in truth it is no secret really …”
     

Chapter Seven

     
    From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – Jan 1893
     
    We went to the theater tonight at the Royal Lyceum to see Oscar Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance . The play should have been fascinating but I was too taken aback by Harry’s sudden attention to have a care for it.
    Moira had to go back downstairs for her fan and made Harry
    Harry escorted me up to our box, holding my hand where it tucked into the crook of his arm all the while ! Though I know he is a practiced flirt, I cannot help but think that he is sincere in his compliments. And he was ever so obvious in his reluctance to release my hand when we finally reached our seats.
     
    “He did look rather displeased when we left the park.”
    “Lord Ramsay is lacking in patience but it is nothing to worry over,” Fiona told her as their slow-paced walk brought them once again to the granite stoop and wrought iron railings that marked the entrance to Glenrothes House.
    At seven stories and with five window bays across the white stucco and red brick Georgian facade, the townhouse the Earl of Glenrothes had purchased just the past year stood as the grandest residence in the square, remodeled not very long ago to encompass two lots .
    Naturally Francis hadn’t purchased it for its utterly ostentatious presence with a façade adorned with eight mammoth pillars and a ridiculous amount of