this was not strictly a social call.
“That drink?” Nick arched an eyebrow, unwilling to confess his sins in the foyer. And come to that, Lindsey looked like he could use a drink too. “Though I don’t promise you won’t get a lecture as well,” Nick went on as Darius led the way through the house. “What can you possibly see in that woman?”
“My bloody miserable fate,” Darius said. “Brandy or whiskey?”
“Whiskey.” Nick decided on the libation that suited his harsh, volatile mood. “I’ve left your sister.”
Darius went still in the act of removing a glass stopper from a decanter, but then carefully set the stopper down on the sideboard. “Did she send you away?”
“She did not, and she has not in any way displeased me, nor does she deserve the talk that will undoubtedly ensue in time.”
“I see.” Lindsey poured one drink, very rudely tossed it back before pouring another for himself, then pouring a third and passing it to his guest. “Shall I call you out, Bellefonte?”
“Don’t call me that.” Nick accepted the drink, downed it, and passed his glass back for a refill.
“What shall I call you?” Darius inquired in lethally soft tones. Nick surveyed him and saw a man who was several inches shorter than he, maybe a year younger, and decades better acquainted with bitterness.
“Leah would kill us both for dueling,” Nick said as he accepted the second drink from his host and tossed that one back as well.
“I will not suffer my sister to be hurt,” Darius said, “but losing one of us in a duel would no doubt hurt more than weathering some gossip. So…” Darius looked around the room. “Shall we sit and blast away at each other with civilized insults and veiled threats, or can you tell me why you’re being such an ass?”
If he hadn’t liked the man before, and respected him for his championing of Leah, Nick liked him thoroughly in that moment.
“We sit and enjoy your surprisingly fine spirits.”
Darius gestured to the couch for Nick, and took a well-cushioned chair for himself, letting silence stretch while Nick took a seat.
“You will look in on Leah?” Nick set his empty glass down on the table, wondering if Lindsey possessed enough decent spirits to get them both drunk.
“Of course,” Darius replied, his expression hooded. “But why are you doing this, if you can tell me? I suspected your affection for Leah was genuine.” There was a hint of sympathy in the man’s tone, and Nick dropped his gaze to his empty glass rather than face compassion head on.
“My affection for your sister is genuine,” Nick said, “but have you never made a decision, Lindsey, that rippled out across your life, having repercussions you could not possibly have foreseen? Have you never given a promise in good faith you lived to regret?”
“I don’t promise anybody much of anything,” Darius replied with a snort of humorless laughter. “I have regrets, though. I most assuredly do have substantial, relentless regrets.” He lifted his drink to sip, when the door to the library burst open, and a little boy came barreling straight for Darius. Darius quickly set the drink down and caught the child up in his arms.
“Dare!” the child cried. “She’s gone! I can come out now, and we can go for a ride!” Darius’s arms tightened around the child’s squirming body, and his gaze over the child’s shoulder became so fierce Nick felt relief they wouldn’t meet over pistols or swords.
Darius Lindsey’s gaze promised death to Nick, right then and there, should Nick offer any hurt or insult to the child.
“She is gone,” Darius said quietly to the child in his lap, “but we have another guest, John, so why don’t you make your bow?”
The bottom of Nick’s stomach dropped out as he gazed into young eyes so like Leah’s.
“John Cowperthwaite Lindsey,” the child piped cheerfully as he scrambled to his feet and bowed to Nick. “At your service, good sir.”
Nick rose and bowed to the child. “Bellefonte. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Then he squatted when he saw wee John’s stunned reaction to his great height. “But you can call me Nick, with mine host’s permission, as Bellefonte is not so friendly, young John, and I should like to make a new friend today.”
“Are you a giant?”
“Of course not,” Nick scoffed, still hunkered at the child’s eye level. “I am merely a fellow who ate all his vegetables, went to bed without a fuss every night, and bathed when nurse said I must. Darius was not quite as well behaved as I, at least when he was a boy.”
John eyed Darius, who was sitting as still and attentive as a hungry papa wolf. “Is that why Dare isn’t so big as you?”
“Quite possibly, though as grown fellows go, he’s on the tall side,” Nick said. “We mustn’t hurt his feelings when it’s too late for him to grow any more. Sit you down, John, and we will impress Darius with our conversation.” Nick hoisted the child onto his lap. “Now, my good fellow, tell me about your pony.”
John chattered on with the bright, happy oblivion of a well-loved child before a new audience, and Nick let go of some anxiety. Every child deserved to be loved, and this one had at least that in his favor.
Nick interrupted John’s description of his latest tumble from his pony. “Don’t you suppose if you’re to go riding, you’d best don appropriate attire?”
John looked for a translation from Darius, who’d been silent and watchful throughout the entire exchange.
“Put on your boots and breeches,” Darius said, “and grab a carrot or two from Cook, but take a proper leave of Lord Bellefonte first.” John executed a perfect little bow of parting and scampered off, leaving an enormous silence in his wake.
“It seems we have more to discuss than I thought, Lindsey.” For a wretched, uncomfortable suspicion had bloomed in the back of Nick’s mind.
“Leah will kill us both if you call me out,” Darius said with bitter humor. “There is an explanation for why matters stand as they do, but I’ve been trying to convince Trent that because Leah’s circumstances have changed, perhaps it’s time to change John’s circumstances as well.”
“No perhaps about it,” Nick shot back. “That boy deserves his mother’s love, to say nothing of what Leah deserves.”
Surprise crossed Darius’s features, surprise the man made no effort to mask. “You and the rest of Polite Society are supposed to conclude John is my by-blow.”
“He has Leah’s eyes, Lindsey. Beelzebub’s hairy balls, you can’t—”
Lindsey held up a hand. “John is my paternal half brother, our paternal half brother. His mother was a maid at Wilton Acres who walked here from the Lindsey family seat in Hampshire just to seek my aid. Wilton had discarded her when she couldn’t hide her condition any longer and scoffed at the notion she might be carrying his child. If Wilton knew of the boy’s existence, the consequences to the child would be unthinkable. Leah doesn’t know of him. She’s had enough to deal with, and the time was never right.”
Another secret kept from Leah, by another man who professed to love her. The idea should have assuaged Nick’s guilt, when in fact it did the opposite.
“You won’t tell Leah?” Darius asked, his manner softening a little.
“I won’t tell Leah,
Rather than rant and rail to the contrary—and wouldn’t a rousing argument suit Nick’s mood wonderfully?— Darius’s gaze turned pensive.
“You’re an earl now, Wilton’s peer,” he said. “Leah would dote on the boy.”
Behind dark eyes, the mill wheel of Lindsey’s brain was turning at a great rate, and Nick suspected he knew exactly the direction of Lindsey’s thoughts. “You and John can ride a few miles with me in the direction of town. We’ll talk.”
And talk they did.
