The next few minutes were spent organizing the ride back to Tydings, and all the while, Ethan wanted to tell his friends, his neighbor, his brother, and even his son to take themselves off so he could speak with Alice.
And yet, he dreaded what they might say to each other.
When all was sorted out, Collins’s body was draped over the back of one draft horse, Thatcher sat bound on the other, Nick was up on Bishop, Fairly on Waltzer, each towing a draft horse. Heathgate had Alice up before him, while Ethan put Jeremiah up before him on a perfectly composed Argus and gave Jeremiah the reins to Fairly’s mare.
“Argus was a good boy.” Jeremiah thumped the gelding on his golden neck. “He remembered the falling-off game even when the baron was riding him.”
“He did.” Ethan sneaked a kiss to his son’s crown. “And so did you.”
“I’m glad Collins is dead,” Jeremiah said on a sigh. “I’m glad Argus killed him. He was mean and nasty to everybody. Worse than a bad dragon.”
“Much worse.” Ethan glanced over at Alice where she rode on Constantina. He’d overheard what Collins had said to her, about knowing her sister and Alice being unable to help her sister. And Alice had overheard
Was that why she wouldn’t look at him now?
Even had he the courage, Ethan didn’t have the opportunity to confront her. Collins’s body had to be dealt with, Heathgate as local magistrate had to take statements, and Thatcher needed to be dispatched to the back room of the local tavern, which served as a makeshift gaol.
When Ethan saw Alice put into the most comfortable coach he had for the trip to Willowdale, it was close to noon.
“So, now what?” Nick asked as they trudged through the gardens.
“I want to see Joshua,” Ethan said. “I expect you do too.”
Nick turned his head to regard Ethan levelly. “You don’t have to be that generous, Ethan. I’m a big boy. When you swive another man’s wife, you don’t have a claim on the progeny, particularly if your brother is generous enough to obscure the issue of paternity.”
“Don’t be an ass. You didn’t intend to swive my wife, as you so vulgarly insist on putting it, and the progeny you refer to is a little boy who thinks his uncle is—God help you—capital.”
“I may not be his bloody uncle, and if you weren’t so busy trying to out-decent the Pope over having my bas —”
He never finished the word, because Ethan tackled him from the side and sent them rolling across the back gardens. They wrestled, as they hadn’t since boyhood, elbows, knees, arms, and legs tussling, first this one in a hold, then that one, until they were both panting with the exertion.
“Joshua Nicholas Grey is not a bastard,” Ethan hissed, his arm around Nick’s thick throat. He hauled up, the result intended to be brutally uncomfortable but not quite dangerous.
“Joshua
“Ethan Grey is not a bastard,” Nick rasped in his brother’s ear. “Say it, you stubborn ass.” He tugged up for good measure. Ethan struggled fiercely beneath him, but Nick wouldn’t give quarter.
“Ethan Grey is not a bastard,” Nick insisted, voice hoarse. “Say it, or I’ll break both your arms, Ethan. I swear I will.”
Ethan renewed his efforts to break Nick’s hold, but Nick had several inches and two stone on him.
“Ethan! You are not a bastard. Say it!”
Ethan went still, Nick’s point finally becoming clear. “Ethan Grey,” he said softly, firmly, “is no longer a victim.”
“No.” Nick shifted off of him. “He’s not. You’re not.” He regarded Ethan, who’d pushed up on all fours and then sat back on his haunches, lungs heaving. “You’re not. Come here. God, you’re stubborn.” Nick draped an arm across Ethan’s shoulders and gave his brother one hell of a squeeze. “I have missed you until I’m crazy with it, and all this time, you were just ashamed, Ethan?”
Nick withdrew his arm, and Ethan could breathe again.
“Just ashamed.” Ethan said the words as one might say, “mere plague.”
“I could kill Papa,” Nick whispered. “How could he leave you at Stoneham? How could he have sent you there?”
“I don’t think he knew anything, Nick.” Ethan sighed, settling in the grass beside his brother. “And I don’t care. It’s over. Now it’s well and truly over.”
Nick slugged Ethan on the shoulder. “Call me bloodthirsty, but like Jeremiah, I’m glad Collins is dead.”
“So am I,” Ethan admitted, because to Nick, he could admit such a thing. “Now will you come see the boys with me?”
“How can I face them, Ethan?” Nick plucked at the grass idly. “I am a disgrace. In their eyes, I will be a disgrace, and I can only imagine what Leah will think of this.”
Ethan found a long blade of grass and split it with his thumbnail. “Firstly, children do not uniformly approve of their parents, nor we of them. This is not in the contract, so to speak. We love each other, and that suffices. Secondly, Leah knew you were a tomcat and will not hold this against you. Thirdly, you need to know these children. They will fall to your care should anything happen to me.”
“That’s right. You did that even before Papa died, didn’t you?” Nick pounced on this realization with palpable relish as he pushed to his feet.
“I did it the day I knew Barbara had conceived,” Ethan said, accepting a hand up. “Joshua’s situation only makes it all the more imperative you make his acquaintance.”
“But, Ethan, do we have to tell him?” Nick sounded so uncertain, it nearly broke Ethan’s heart.
“Not now, Nick,” Ethan said gently as they moved off toward the house. “Soon, so it doesn’t strike them as a big, dirty secret rife with sexual connotations an adolescent blows out of all proportion. You and I are half brothers. Joshua and Jeremiah can adjust to being possible half brothers too.”
“You’re so matter-of-fact about this,” Nick said as they gained the back hallway.
“I’ve had seven years to adjust to it, and you’ve had less than a few hours.”
“True, and in all this commotion, I’ve not told you Hazlit’s latest information.”
“Which would be?” Ethan led them in through the kitchen, then to the back stairs.
“You are not a bastard,” Nick said, humor lacing his voice. “He’s confirmed your mother was still married to Colonel Markham when you were born, but the story is almost sweet.”
Ethan paused on the narrow stairs to peer down at Nick on the step behind him. “
“They were lifelong friends,” Nick said, “and he wanted his commission. She wanted to leave her parents’ house and was good friends with his sisters. They married, and he used her dowry to buy his commission. She went to live with his sisters, and she kept up a lively correspondence with him, though they were never intimate. Your mother was faithful to my father once she met him, though they weren’t fated to have much time together. She was married at the time of your birth, though, so technically, you are not a bastard.”
“And she couldn’t marry the earl, lest bigamy rear its head.
“The earl paid a great deal of money to the solicitors to keep her adultery quiet,” Nick went on as they gained the stairs. “Damned silly of him, if you ask me, but he was protective of her memory.”
Ethan shrugged. “I wish he’d protected me more and her memory less.” It felt odd to say such a thing out loud, except Nick was the one person to whom he could make such a disclosure.
“You and me both.” Nick huffed out his disgust. “We’re not sending our sons anywhere but Eton, are we?”
“And maybe not even there,” Ethan said. He tapped once on the door to the nursery and opened it, finding both boys wreathed in smiles, sitting side by side on Joshua’s bed.
“You need to rest.” Felicity, Marchioness of Heathgate, frowned at Alice with maternal concern. “You are pale, you have shadows under your eyes, and you aren’t using your right hand to lift even a teacup.”
