Dair Devil

by Lucinda Brant

  “Truth is, Rory, I have no right to curse Dair for his reckless antics. He is the bravest man I know. With his family—his father in particular—holding him in little regard, is it small wonder he has little regard for his own safety? No, Rory. I will not abandon him. I cannot. It is Silla who must see why I cannot, or she will be miserable, and make me miserable into the bargain.”

  Rory had to ask the question. “Why, Harvel? Why risk your marriage?”

  “If not for Dair Fitzstuart, you would not have a brother, Silla would not have a husband, and Grand would not have an heir to his title and estates.”

  TEN

  W ITH SUCH A WILLING and sympathetic ear, Grasby was soon confiding in Rory details and anecdotes about his best friend that, had Dair Fitzstuart been consulted, would have remained buried in the past, not to be repeated, and certainly not to the granddaughter of his mentor.

  “Second year at Harrow was when Dair first came to my defense. I was being pummeled to a pulp by Bully Biscoe, a great big ape of a boy one year above us. Can’t recall what for. I don’t think he liked the color of my hair. Or was it my blue eyes? Whatever it was, it was not something I could alter about myself, even had I wanted to. Cedric did his best to pull the ape off me, but his chums got hold of Cedric, who had a pretty good fist on him, and held him down while Bully got to work on me. That’s when Dair stepped in. In those days, he wasn’t much bigger than me. But he could fight! Had Bully knocked cold before he knew who had hit him!”

  “And so you became fast friends… You, Mr. Pleasant and Lord Fitzstuart,” Rory stated to move the conversation along when her brother paused and shook his turbaned head at a memory. “When was the second time he defended you?”

  “Second time?”

  “You said Lord Fitzstuart came to your defense for the first time when you were at Harrow… So there must have been a second time.”

  “Clever! But it wouldn’t be right of me to tell you the particulars. Suffice it for me to say I was staring down the long length of a blade, point held to my chest by a man who believed I had taken liberties with a—um—female under his protection.”

  “His sister? Wife? Not his daughter?”

  “No! No! No! Not that sort of female or that sort of protection.”

  Rory’s eyes widened, but she was matter-of-fact. “A whore. Please continue. Unless I am in the wrong and you need to correct me…?”

  “No. No correction necessary. It was just before Dair headed off to join his regiment and Cedric and I were off to Oxford. We were celebrating the birth of his—well, that doesn’t matter. We were out celebrating and ended up at a particular direction that welcomed young gentlemen. The man with the sword fancied himself in love with my—friend. I was not in a position to defend myself. He had every intention of spilling my blood. Dair got himself involved and to bring the story to its conclusion, he mortally wounded the man. It was a fair fight, with seconds, and a fair outcome. The man knew how to wield a blade, and if not for Dair, I would have been the one bleeding to death all over the floor.”

  “Then you do indeed owe him your life. Strange he did not go on to Oxford with you both, but instead went into the army. Not the usual route for the eldest son of an earl, is it? More tea…?”

  Grasby held out his teacup.

  “There’s nothing usual about it! And nothing usual about Dair’s family. Father deserted his Countess and three children when Dair was about ten years old. Went off to the West Indies and never came home. Dair said it was as if his father had died, but that there was no body to bury.” Grasby dropped a sugar lump into his tea and replaced the silver tongs in the bowl being held out to him. “We may have been orphaned, Rory, but we had Grand to take care of us. Dair and his sister and brother were left to their own devices. The Countess shut herself away. Heartbreak sent her mad for a time—”

  “The Countess of Strathsay? Heartbroken? Perhaps that explains why she is not a nice person.”

  “It don’t explain why she’s as cold as a frozen lake to everyone, including her own children! No motherly instincts, as far as anyone can tell. But she’s Dair’s mamma, so I won’t say a word against her.”

  “Nor should you. But just because she is cold-blooded doesn’t mean he is. His father must be warm-blooded, and Lord Fitzstuart takes after him… Perhaps that’s why the Earl sailed off to the Caribbean?”

  Grasby shrugged. “Possibly. Never asked. All I do know is that while the Earl lives on his sugar plantation with his dusky mistress and their two brats, his English estate falls into ruin. He won’t spend a penny on its upkeep. Nor give his heir power of attorney to act on his behalf. So Dair plays a waiting game. Waiting for his father to die. Waiting to inherit. Waiting to be able to do something other than wait.” He frowned. “It worries me that while he waits, his luck could turn. You can’t be forever risking your life and not expect death to catch up with you in the end.”

  “Death catches up with all of us eventually,” Rory said quietly. “But I don’t understand why he tempts death. He seems to me…” she began, then instantly corrected herself before her brother realized her slip, “What I’ve heard said about him is that he has a zest for life. That he enjoys every moment of it.”

  “Well, you would, wouldn’t you, if your next breath might be your last! What Dair should be doing is getting married and producing an heir. Then the Earl might consider giving him control of the estate. That’s Grand’s opinion. But since Dair went into the army against his wishes, Strathsay has refused to release a penny of his funds, or give him any responsibility.”

  “But if his father has not been in England for twenty years, who looks after his estates, if not his heir?”

  Grasby sighed and looked blank for a moment. “Cousin, I think. Yes. Dair’s principled second cousin, the Duke of Roxton. Holds the purse strings, and if any of the Fitzstuart siblings need funds, they have to go cap-in-hand to him.”

  Rory peered out the window. Her grandfather and the Major were nowhere to be seen. Only the gardeners remained, clipping hedges and raking gravel. She sighed and settled again amongst the cushions.

  “He would hate going cap-in-hand to anyone… He would find it humiliating.”

  “Yes. Yes, he does. But it’s not an unusual circumstance in itself. Plenty of sons live by handouts and IOUs until they inherit. I would be, if Grand hadn’t given over the management of the estates to me when I married Silla. Now I have occupation, and still much to learn, but when I do inherit the title, Grand knows the estates will be well looked after. But few men are like Grand…”

  “The Earl of Strathsay should be ashamed of himself! Not just for leaving his family, which is inexcusable, but for treating his children, particularly his eldest son and heir, with such contempt!” Rory said hotly. “Making them beg to a relative for their inheritance. Making his heir do likewise, when he should be head of the family in his father’s absence… I take back what I said. The Earl is not warm-blooded at all. He is as cold and unpleasant as his Countess. I’d say they were a perfect match. The wonder of it is that ice doesn’t run in their son’s veins, too!”

  “Rory, there is no reason for you to upset yourself,” Grasby said quietly, wondering why she was suddenly so passionate, though he knew her to possess great empathy. “This state of affairs has been going on since Dair was ten years old. It’s nothing new.”

  “Then I am not the least surprised he has a reckless disregard for his heritage, his position in society, and his life! He is still being treated like a little boy of ten. He has no reason to grow up, has he? He might as well stay ten, for all the good it would do him to try and take responsibility for his family and his inheritance. While his father lives, and while he remains obdurate, Lord Fitzstuart can do nothing but wait. And everyone knows that boys who are without occupation and purpose will create mischief one way or another.”

  Grasby blinked. “By Jove, Rory,” he whispered, adding in a much louder voice as her explanation took hold, “You’ve hit
the proverbial nail! I’ve never thought about Dair’s situation in that light. But you just might be right. In fact, it makes perfect sense. How clever you are!”

  “Thank you. But I am not so clever,” she smiled, yet dimpling at such praise. “His situation is not so different to that of females waiting to be married. Until we marry we have little purpose in life. We are just burdens on others, in every way. But once married, we have a position in society, a house to run, and God willing, children to raise and worry over. It must be the same for eldest sons, particularly those who are shunned by their fathers. They wait, too. At least unmarried females have fathers and brothers to look after them, and who they can look after in their own small ways. Although that too diminishes when brothers find wives…”

  “You will never be a burden, Rory. I mean to look after you, always.”

  “I know that, dearest. I wasn’t thinking of me, but speaking in generalities. I shall make an excellent aunt one day, and Silla will be pleased to have me. She will love your children, but I do not see her spending many hours in the nursery, do you?”

  Grasby was about to say that the way matters were presently between him and his wife, it would take almost a miracle if the nursery received any occupants in the future. He was saved commenting when Rory continued, and he again found himself surprised by her naïve insight.

  “I dare say army life was good for his lordship. Aside from the very real possibility of being killed or maimed in battle, the day-to-day discipline of a regiment does give men purpose. It may even keep them out of mischief until they are granted leave, and then perhaps they go a little wild…?”

  “I can only agree with you,” Grasby smiled. “Though I wonder how many officers you’ve engaged in conversation?”

  “It is all observation and conjecture, dearest brother. I’ve seen soldiers on parade, not Lord Fitzstuart’s 17th. It must take an inordinate amount of time and effort to shine all those buttons on their scarlet coats, and polish their jockey boots until they reflect the sun! As for keeping their white breeches whiter than white—whose idea was it to put soldiers in such an impossible color?”

  “But it does make them look the part—all that scarlet and white.”

  “It does. And we have not touched on the hours that must go into taking care of their mounts. All that brass tack and leather, and the shine to their beautiful coats. To see the dragoons mounted is a sight to behold, is it not?”

  “It most certainly is. Astonishing what a bit of spit and polish and a scarlet coat can do for a man,” Grasby teased his sister, and then peered at her closely. “You’ve not fallen for a uniform, have you, Rory?”

  “Certainly not!” she retorted, and to hide the heat in her cheeks threw her cushion at him, which he caught and threw back at her, laughingly.

  “Good. Because I don’t want you marrying a uniform. I found it difficult enough having my best friend go off and fight. I couldn’t bear for you to worry yourself over a husband doing the same.”

  Rory giggled. “I do love you for thinking I might marry at all!”

  “Why shouldn’t you? I mean, you’re pretty enough, and some men find blue eyes attractive.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Adding seriously, hoping her tone sounded offhand enough not to arouse suspicion, “So why did Lord Fitzstuart buy a commission?”

  “Ah, well. He didn’t have much say in the matter after he was discovered being foolish. I believe the decision was taken by the old Duke of Roxton, Dair’s guardian at the time.

  “My godfather? Why?”

  Grasby gave an involuntary shudder. “The son is pompous enough, but the old Duke… Sinister doesn’t begin to describe him! The times I’ve visited Treat, I half expected to see his ghost haunting the corridors of his palace. He was enough of a specter in life, with his beak of a nose, that menacing way he had of speaking, and those black eyes that missed nothing. I don’t think anyone ever said ‘no’ to him his entire life!”

  Rory shrugged. “Strange he should leave such an impression on you. He was always kind to me… I remember one particular time, when I was about six years old, Grand and I went to stay at Treat—”

  “Where was I?”

  “Harrow. Grand took me to see the baby. It was two months after Mme la Duchesse’s lying-in with her younger son, and I was permitted to go up to her rooms… Her lady-in-waiting took me upstairs to the most magical apartments I have ever seen then or since! It was what I imagined a palace belonging to a fairy would look like, all golds and pinks… It smelled delicious and soft… But when I saw Mme la Duchesse suckling her baby, I forgot about my surroundings. I must have exhausted her with all my questions, because my godfather sat me on his lap and proceeded to divert me. Well I know now that was what he was doing. He told me a story about the old French King, his court and all the pretty ladies. Though I suspect it wasn’t a story at all but his memories of his earlier life before he married my godmother.”

  “He was there? In the room? In the room while the Duchess was—while the baby was being fed?”

  Rory giggled.

  “Oh, Grasby, if you could only see your face! A suckling baby is the most natural sight in the world.”

  “Duchesses have wet nurses to take care of that sort of thing.”

  “Well don’t be surprised if Silla decides to feed her own baby.”

  “Silla will do whatever is fashionable.”

  “Then she most certainly will feed her baby, because it is quite the fashion for Society ladies to breast-feed their own children. If I were to have a child, I would do so, regardless of the fashion. Just as Mme la Duchesse disregarded the fashion.”

  “Whatever that decision, it staggers me the old Duke was there as if it were an afternoon tea party!” He frowned. “Grand wasn’t in on this baby-feeding episode, was he?”

  “Silly! Of course not. When he had finished his story, the old Duke took me downstairs to where Grand was waiting.” Rory grinned and hunched her shoulders. “And that’s when I told him I liked his beaky nose.”

  Grasby’s mouth dropped open. “You did no such thing! You told the scary old Duke of Roxton you liked his-his beaky nose? Well, I never! What did he do?”

  “What do you think he did? I was only six years old. He laughed and told me that when I was older I could have it.”

  “You are the strangest girl, to be sure, Rory. Most little girls would say they liked a pretty flower or a diamond ring, or a pet parrot, but you tell an old Duke you like his beak of a nose!” He laughed and said jokingly, “If that’s your criteria for forming an attachment, I’ll have to see if I can find you a gentleman whose beak measures up.”

  Rory smiled in response, but she did not laugh, and felt her cheeks grow hot. She knew just the gentleman whose fine nose did measure up, but she kept this to herself, and asked her brother again why Lord Fitzstuart was bought a commission in the army.

  “I shouldn’t confide this in you. But I know if I don’t tell you, you’ll just go and ask Grand the same question… And it possibly won’t come as a surprise. It’s been whispered about enough times that you may have heard it spoken of at one of those tea parties Silla took you to. Besides, Dair makes no secret of the fact he has a natural son, never has.”

  “Lily Banks’s son?”

  Grasby nodded. “So you have heard. Yes. Reason Dair was shipped off to the army. He and Lily tried to elope to Gretna; only place they could marry without needing all the legalities. He was just eighteen and she, well she was old enough to know better! Old enough to manage to get herself pregnant and hope the heir to an earldom would marry her!”

  “But how could she manage to get herself pregnant? Isn’t a child a blessing from God?”

  “Not this sort of child, Rory.”

  Rory frowned and was instantly uncomfortable, not liking her brother’s words at all. She left the window seat to fuss with the tea things, hoping occupation would soothe her emotions. She lifted the silver teapot and realized there was
only enough tea for one more cup, so snuffed the candle warmer and replaced the teapot on its stand. She then stacked the tea cups and came back to the window seat where her brother still sat, watching her. Her thoughts collected into coherent sentences her brother would understand without becoming emotive, she said quietly,

  “Harvel, it upsets me to hear you speak of a child in such a derogatory tone. A child is a child, and that is all he is. He comes into the world blameless, and yet he is immediately branded by others because of his parentage, or his characteristics, or his-his deformities, as being worth less than nothing—”

  “Rory, I didn’t mean you.”

  “I know that, dearest. But it doesn’t lessen the pain I feel when I hear a child shaped into another’s making. I have come to terms with my shortcomings. I have a privileged life that shields me from the ugliness in the world. But for you and others to condemn a child because its parents are not married… How easily you forget that our own mother was illegitimate!”

  “I had not forgotten. Though I wish I could.”

  “Why? Because our parents’ marriage was an unequal one? Even Grand admits their union was a happy one. For you to wish otherwise, is to wish away their happiness. It also condemns my existence, for in the eyes of many, I am God’s punishment for my father marrying far beneath him.”

  “Anyone who says so isn’t fit for dog meat!”

  “So are those who condemn Lily Banks’s son because he is illegitimate.”

  Grasby did not argue the point with her. He had never won a debate with his sister. Instead he said flatly, “His name is Jamie—James Alisdair Banks.”

  “Oh! I do like that name. And he gave the boy his Christian name, too…”

  “Dair would have given him his legal name, if he’d been permitted. That was not going to happen, neither was a marriage. The old Duke of Roxton caught up to them and it was all sorted. Lily Banks had his baby and Dair went into the army. That was ten years ago, and a lot of water has flowed under that bridge since then!”