Dalton had no idea how to break his father out of the spell. But John had been like this for as long as he could remember. Dalton had accepted his status as the Invisible Son for years. His brother, Brandon, had been the good son, the heir his parents adored. Whereas Dalton was the spare they’d ignored.
After Brandon’s death, it had become far worse. His parents had fallen into a deep despair, and nothing he said or did could break them out of the sorrow. If anything, his presence seemed to darken his father’s mood. They still blamed him for what had happened. And nothing he ever did could atone for it.
‘I think I’ll return to Grandfather’s estate during the Season,’ Dalton offered. ‘Someone should look after Cairnross.’ He received only a nod from his father, as the earl’s silver knife scraped the edge of the china plate.
He could easily have said that he was going to cut off his right hand, and the reaction would have been the same. But still, he would try to make a conversation.
‘Do you want to come with me?’ Dalton ventured.
His father jolted, and a sudden flare of emotion caught his face. ‘I—no. That is, no. I don’t think so. And, well, Parliament is in session.’ He set his knife down and added, ‘But I should be grateful if you would go and see to the estate matters.’
Just like that, the conversation died again. Dalton thought about bringing his plate closer to his father. John had eaten only a little, and his face appeared ravaged with hunger. His father was naught but a shell of a man any more. He had begun fading after the death of his son seven years ago. It had worsened with the death of his wife, two years ago. He might as well have climbed into the grave beside them.
‘Father, I am concerned about you,’ he said to the earl. ‘You never leave the house any more. You ought to go out, attend a few gatherings.’
‘I don’t want to go to a ball or a supper party. I’d rather remain here.’
Where I can bury myself in work and forget about the rest of the world, his expression seemed to say.
‘You’re dying here,’ Dalton pointed out. ‘There are too many memories in this house.’ Before Brandon’s death, his mother had decorated the house with bright colours and roses in every room. She had been like a whirlwind, constantly moving about and talking endlessly. They had all adored her.
But after his brother died, she had withered. Brandon’s empty room had become an untouched shrine. Ailsa had gone inside each day, as if she could feel her son’s presence. Everything had been left as it was before. Even his clothes remained.
And while he understood their grief, he hadn’t known how to ease their pain. They rarely spoke to him, and they were so caught up in the past, they could not seem to fathom a future besides the one they had planned.
‘I am happy as I am,’ the earl said quietly. ‘Let me be, Dalton.’ He folded his napkin and peered down the length of the table. ‘I would rather concentrate on our family’s investments and continue building our wealth. Someone has to see to it that our expenses are paid.’
Dalton didn’t like the sound of censure in his father’s voice. He had worked just as hard as his father, ensuring that the estates were profitable. He had even invested money in shipping ventures, expanding their interests in India.
John’s face held weariness. ‘Go to Scotland if that is what you wish. I will be fine here.’
Dalton’s shoulders lowered when he realised that there was nothing he could do. The sense of loneliness descended, making him feel like an intruder in his own house. His father was unable to overcome his own grief, and it was the same as it always had been before.
He departed the dining room and one of his dogs trotted out to see him. Dalton leaned down and petted the foxhound’s head. ‘And what advice would you give me, Laddie, if you were my father?’ He went to sit on the stairs, and the dog rested his head on Dalton’s knees. ‘Perhaps I should take my own advice. Live my life as I please. Find a bride and settle down. Have children of my own.’
In response, the dog slumped to the ground and rolled to his back, exposing his belly. Dalton smiled and petted the dog until he squirmed with delight. ‘And what about Lady Regina? What should I do about her?’ The dog stood and shook himself before he circled the floor and curled up.
‘It hardly matters, I suppose.’ After their last conversation, he knew that Regina believed she had no choice but to wed the laird. Although he didn’t understand her reasons, he hadn’t pressed the matter. After all, she hadn’t seen Lachlan in nearly ten years, and the arrangement had been suggested by her father, after Lachlan’s father Tavin had died a few years ago.
He thought of her earlier vulnerability and wondered if there was aught he could do to ease her uncertainties. Aye, Locharr was the man her father had chosen for her. But he couldn’t help but think that both of them were making a mistake.
His conscience warned that it wasn’t his place to interfere or to pry in her affairs. Moreover, it would harm his friendship with Lachlan. He’d hidden his true feelings for years, teasing her relentlessly. If she pushed him away, it was easier to keep the boundaries between them.
Laddie went to the door and pulled down the leather lead with his teeth, bringing it to him. There was no denying that the dog wanted a walk.
‘It is a fine day,’ he agreed with the animal. ‘But I don’t know if Lady Regina would want to come walking with us,’ he said. She
