Not Quite A Gentleman

Colin pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I find it nearly impossible to understand why you think it necessary to keep such a menagerie, and even more impossible to comprehend why you would bring it-them-all the way to Cornwall. But what I truly cannot fathom is why you would burden the unfortunate beast with a name like Petunia.”

“I didn’t name her. Mrs. Fitzharbinger, my patient who gave her to me, named her Petunia.”

“Well, clearly Mrs. Fitzharbinger possesses no sense of smell whatsoever because never in my life have I ever caught a whiff of anything that less resembled a flower than that filthy beast.”

“I’d mind my words if I were you, Colin. Petunia is sensitive to insults and fond of butting the arse of those who speak ill of her.” He shot a glance at his goat, who, upon hearing her name, lifted her pale brown head from the patch of flowers upon which she munched and stared at him through obsidian eyes. Telltale purple flowers and stems protruded from the sides of Petunia’s mouth as her scruffy chin worked back and forth. “She has a particular fondness for petunias, thus her name.”

Colin looked skyward. “If she were named by her favorite foods, then she also could have just as easily been dubbed ‘Handkerchief,’ ‘Button,’ ‘Vellum-’”

“Yes, she loves to eat paper-”

“As I discovered this morning when she ingested a note I’d tucked in my waistcoat pocket. At which time I also lost a button.” He sizzled a heated glare at Petunia. Petunia continued to chew in an unconcerned fashion.

“What about your handkerchief?”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “That was yesterday. Doesn’t that beast know she’s supposed to eat grass?”

“Actually, goats prefer to eat shrubs, bushes, leaves, and gorse.”

“Seems to me she prefers to eat anything that isn’t nailed down. At every opportunity.”

“Perhaps. But she won’t appreciate you saying so. I’d watch my arse if I were you.” Nathan cocked a brow. “Your note must have been from a young lady. Petunia harbors a great appetite for love letters.”

“Because she can read, I’m certain.”

“In truth, I wouldn’t be shocked to discover she could. Animals are much more intelligent than we give them credit for. I’ve discovered that Reginald can differentiate between apples and strawberries. He does not care for strawberries.”

“I’m certain Lars and the entire gardening staff will breathe a collective sigh of relief at the news, especially given the current sad state of the petunias. And which of your brood is Reginald? The goose?”

“No, the pig.”

Colin’s gaze shifted to where Reginald lay sprawled on his side in porcine glory, beneath the shade of a nearby elm. “Ah, yes, the pig. Another gift from a grateful patient?”

“Actually, he was payment from a grateful patient.”

“A patient who most likely thought he’d provided you with a feast of pork, ham, and bacon.”

“Most likely. How fortunate for Reginald that I’m not overly fond of bacon.”

“Or beef, either, by the looks of that cow.”

“Daisy. Her name is Daisy.” Nathan jerked his head toward the black and white bovine munching grass near Reginald. “I know you like to think of yourself as impervious, but look at her. One glance from those huge, liquid brown eyes and even you couldn’t think of her providing anything other than fresh milk.”

Colin shook his head. “Good God, you’re a candidate for Bedlam. Petunia, Daisy,” he muttered. “Are all your pets named for flowers?”

“Not all of them. The mastiff’s name is B.C.”

“Based on the size of the beast, short for Bone Crusher, no doubt?”

“No. Boot Chewer. Consider yourself forewarned.”

“Thank you.” There was no missing the sarcasm in Colin’s tone. “B.C. is payment from another grateful patient?”

“Yes.”

“As I suppose the ducks, geese, cat, and lamb were.”

“Correct.”

“You are aware that money is the normal compensation for a physician’s services?”

“I receive that as well. Occasionally.”

“By the looks of your menagerie, very occasionally.”

Nathan shrugged. He’d never convince Colin or their father that he was perfectly content living in a cottage that could fit, with room to spare, in Creston Manor’s drawing room. Or that his mismatched animals were his friends. His family. And as such, he needed them here, to help him through the ordeal he suspected awaited him just around the corner. “I’m paid enough to keep a roof over my head and keep my furry and feathered friends fed.”

“Quite a bit tamer than the old days,” Colin said.

Instantly the wall between them that they’d skirted around since Nathan’s arrival yesterday could no longer be ignored. Yet he had no desire to talk about the past. “Much tamer. And that’s just the way I like it.”

“This was your home, Nathan. You didn’t have to leave.”

How was it possible that such softly spoken words could hit him so hard? “Didn’t I?” He couldn’t keep the edge of bitterness from his own words.

Colin studied him for several long seconds through green eyes that were so like their mother’s they inspired another wave of memories Nathan had to fight back. Finally Colin turned his head and stared into the distance.

“You could have made different choices.”

“I don’t see how. Even if I’d wanted to stay, Father demanded I go.”

“He spoke in anger. So did you. He’s since written to you, inviting you to come home.”

“True. But by then I’d already settled in Little Longstone.” He raked a hand through his hair. “While our relationship is civil, there remains an… awkwardness between Father and I that I’m not sure we’ll ever breach.” He didn’t need to add as there remains between you and I. The words hung between them like a dank fog.

Colin nodded slowly. “You hadn’t intended to return.”

Nathan’s gaze inadvertently flicked to the wooded area behind Colin. He jerked his head in a tight shake. “No.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“Lord Wexhall’s letter left me little choice.”

“I’d have thought you’d embrace the chance to clear your name.”

“Believe me, the opportunity to do so is the only reason I agreed to come here.” Guilt pricked Nathan when Colin’s jaw tightened, but it was better he told the bald truth. There were already enough lies between them.

“Evidenced by the fact that you haven’t been home in three years,” Colin murmured.

Yes, three years. Three years since his life had changed so drastically. Three years of burying memories and striving to find peace. Of finding a place where he belonged, where the past didn’t linger around every corner. “I’ve written.”

“Infrequently.”

“My time was consumed with finding a place to settle. Establishing myself.”

“Which happened to be three hundred miles from here.”

“Yes. In a place where no one knew me. Where no one knew what happened.”

“Leaving as you did only made you look more guilty.”

“Everyone believed me guilty anyway, so I cannot see that it mattered.”

They exchanged a long, measuring look. Then Colin said, “I was surprised that you gave up so easily. That you didn’t fight to clear your name. You’d never before been a quitter.”

“Well, I guess you didn’t know me as well as you believed.”

“Apparently not.”

“Or I you.” Another look passed between them, then Nathan said, “At least at a distance of three hundred miles I’m not subjected to the whispers and stares. Which is one reason my ‘beasts,’ as you call them, are so important to me. They care nothing of my past. They do not judge me. They can’t hurt me.”

“And that is how you wish to live? Feeling nothing?”