Based on the intricate embroidery in her satin dressing gown, and her lack of surprise at the tableau before her, he assumed she was the current Countess of Elverton. In his youth, he’d seen her from afar on a couple of occasions when curiosity regarding his sire had him following the old goat around. Seeing her so clearly now, he mused that she’d been a beauty in her day, her porcelain complexion still radiant in spite of the late hour. Her brown hair gathered in a long braid was streaked with wisps of red and silver.

Breathing heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed, not demonstrating the same modesty as his mistress, the earl waved his hand in the air as though shooing away a swarm of flies. “My bastard. What the devil are you doing here?”

“I need a word.”

“Come see me in the morning.”

“Now.”

His sire narrowed brown eyes that mirrored Aiden’s in shade, and his square jaw tightened with his irritation, but still he gave a nod. “I’ll meet you in the library shortly.”

“I’ll escort you,” his countess said, quickly turning on her heel and heading into the hallway.

With one parting glare that promised retribution if the old man reneged on his words, Aiden closed the door and joined the earl’s wife. “It doesn’t bother you that he cares so little for you that he brings his doxy here?”

She lifted one finely arched dark brow in a knowing way. “She keeps him out of my bed. Why would I object to that, I ask you?”

He couldn’t argue with her reasoning when he’d often hoped that his mother’s time with the whoremonger had been brief. “I know my way to the library.”

She gave him a lofty once-over and a serene smile. “I’ve no doubt. Still, it would make me an inhospitable hostess not to accompany you, Mr. Trewlove.”

Without waiting for him, she began walking elegantly toward the stairs. He hurried to catch up. “You know who I am.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Several years back, as I recall, you arrived at a late hour and informed the butler who greeted you—I shall never forget the words—‘I’m Aiden Trewlove, the earl’s bastard, and I’ll have a word with him.’ I think you quite frightened the poor fellow. I was standing on the stairs”—which she now descended—“unnoticed, as you were singular in your purpose that evening. To be honest, I was quite shocked as well by your arrival.”

“You were unaware he had bastards?”