by Darcy Burke
Lucy frowned. “Surely, that’s not the only time you’ve ever spoken to him.”
“Alone, it was.” At what he had to recognize as a doubtful expression on her face, he added, “I didn’t even know he existed until a few weeks ago when my mother insisted I come to some dinner only to find the host not only looked exceedingly familiar, but my mother was acting very friendly toward him and referred to him as her son.” He set his ice down on the bench next to him and folded his hands in his lap. “For the sake of appearances that night, my mother offered me some brief explanation of him being the child I always thought she’d lost while married to Lord Norcourt.”
An overwhelming sense of painful understanding cascaded over Lucy causing her heart to crack. She knew there was more to this family than anyone might have been comfortable to tell her, but now so much made sense. Why the two seemed to be at odds every time they were in a room together. Why Simon’s mood changed when Giles joined them for dessert. He’d tried to act polite, but it was just that: an act. Even why Giles seemed to dislike his mother so much seemed to fall into place. If she’d kept something like this from Simon, likely she’d kept something of equal consequence from Giles.
“Not that I want him dead,” he continued, breaking into her thoughts. “I don’t, so please don’t misunderstand. It’s just distracting. I don’t even know where to start with him.” He pursed his lips and twisted them. “Or with my mother. Giles wasn’t in a position to tell me about his existence, but my mother was.” He closed his eyes then shook his head. “I’m sorry. It really isn’t fair of me to burden you with all of this.”
“It’s not a burden,” Lucy assured him. And truly, it wasn’t.
“Are you ready to go back to the library?”
“I believe so, yes.”
SEVENTEEN
Giles was almost certain he’d spent the last three days sitting on a bed of nails and with each day that passed the points grew sharper and sharper.
He’d half expected on Monday afternoon that Simon would have darkened his door and demanded he not spend any more time with Seth. Not that Giles had done anything for which to be warned away from the boy, but he actually liked Seth and enjoyed his company and that was good enough reason for Giles to suddenly lose something—if history were to repeat itself.
On Tuesday, Mr. Appleton had come by only to assure Giles he was still looking into things, but he’d had to send a formal letter to Lord Cosgrove’s solicitor to request a few missing documents. He’d promised to return with more information when he received the documents and could review them. That was not comforting in the least.
Then on Wednesday, the fears from the two days prior had doubled with a simple line in the announcement section of the newspaper: Lord and Lady Belgrave were still officially married and had reconciled. Giles hated to seem selfish, but this was atrocious timing for him. This news might infuriate Simon or his father and make Mr. Appleton stop helping him, or worse, have Simon confront him and tell him to stay away from Lucy and Seth. Which was his right to do.
Giles closed his eyes while Franks set out his clothes for the day.
Thursday’s grand event came in the form of an eleven-year-old boy who wished to come paint again.
“Did you not get your fill of painting on Monday?”
“No.” Seth pushed his way into his house. “I was just putting the green on the trees when I had to go. I can’t leave them barren, can I?”
“No, I suppose not,” Giles agreed, tousling the boy’s hair. “Go ahead and start. I need to dash off a note to Lord Belgrave then I’ll be in to join you.”
The boy scampered away, making Giles laugh as he went to his study. He sat down and penned a quick missive informing his friend that he wouldn’t be able to meet him at White’s again today. Sebastian wouldn’t mind, of course. He was probably busy enjoying bedsport with his new wife and this only freed him up to do it more. Giles tightened his hold on his quill and counted to ten. He shouldn’t be jealous of Sebastian. His wife loved him. There wasn’t much more a man could ask for and Giles should be happy for him, not jealous that he himself was destined to die a virgin. He nearly snorted. He’d never even kissed a lady.
Giles tossed down his pen and made himself stand. He was not going to dwell on this. He quickly sealed the missive, then handed it to a footman and went to the painting room.
“It looks...nice.”
“You think so?”
No. It looked like the boy just swished the brush around in every which direction. But that might be Seth’s best and Giles wasn’t in a habit of making others feel bad for their shortcomings. “Of course.”
“You’re lying.”
Giles didn’t know how to react to such an accusation and hoped Seth’s smile meant he was only teasing. “Did you draw it out first?” he asked the boy.
“Draw what out?”
“What you’re trying to paint.”
Seth blinked. “No.”
“You should. It’ll help.”
“I’m not very good at drawing.”
Giles chuckled and picked up a pencil. “Sure, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Have you tried?”
His face turned the color of an apple’s peel. “Once.”
Giles sat down on his three-legged stool. “And?”
“It was supposed to be a cactus like the one I’d seen in a book.”
“A cactus?”
“It’s a tall, rounded plant that has thousands of needles poking out all over.”
“Ah, I’ve seen a picture of one of those.” An image of said cactus formed in his mind. “That sounds easy to draw.”
“I thought so, too,” Seth agreed as the color rose in his cheeks again.
“Was it not?”
“No, it was easy to draw,” he admitted. “Unfortunately, I didn’t make the two arms that flanked the trunk on either side thin enough or tall enough and when I showed it to my mama she squealed and asked why I was drawing my private parts.”
A rush of laughter came over Giles, wracking his entire body with mirth. “I’m sorry,” he gasped between fits of laughter. Truly, he didn’t mean to laugh at the boy, it was more the mental image of what the picture must have looked like and the horrified look that had to come over Lucy’s face that made him react so.
“I didn’t mean to,” Seth said adamantly. His quiet tone extinguished all of Giles’ laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I did not mean to laugh at you.”
Seth blew out a breath and studied the thinning fabric in the knees of his black trousers. “I don’t know why she thought it looked like that. It had all those spines all over everything. I was only eight, I didn’t have hair there like Simon does.”
“Like Simon does?” Giles asked in surprise. While he didn’t doubt that Simon had sprouted hair in various places of his body, he wondered how Seth would know such a thing.
“When he was injured, we had to carry him inside and mama, she—” the boy’s face started to gain color at a rapid rate again— “she thought we should take his clothes off to tend his wounds. All of his clothes.” The boy lifted chin. “I wouldn’t let her. There are some things womenfolk don’t need to see.”
A range of emotions came over Giles, the most prominent being sympathy. He shouldn’t have laughed a moment ago. He knew better than anyone what it was like to be mocked about such matters. He’d forever remember the look on Sister Catherine’s face when she’d ordered him an ice bath and made him strip off his clothes. He couldn’t have been much older than Seth was and was humiliated by Sister Catherine’s response when she’d seen his naked body and called all the other Sisters in to see him before prevailing upon Father Thomas to explain to Giles the things she didn’t understand. He hated her for doing that to him.
“I’m sorry for laughing, Seth.” The words were practically ripped from his throat. “I shouldn’t have laughed. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes. I’
m not upset, Lord Norcourt.” He bit his lip. “I just don’t understand.”
“About where you went wrong with your picture or the hair?” Though his face burned, he was glad he’d been able to get the words out.
“The latter.”
“You’ll get it,” Giles assured him. “We all do.”
“When?”
“Depends on the boy. Some are ten or eleven and some are fourteen or fifteen.”
“Fourteen or fifteen?” Seth shrieked as if it were an outrage.
Giles chuckled. “There was a boy at the orphanage with me who was fifteen and you’d have thought he’d have just been granted a trust with fifty thousand pounds the way he was celebrating.”
“Celebrating?”
“He didn’t think it’d ever happen.” Giles shrugged. “He was the last one.”
“Oh.” He continued to bite his lip. “So I might be fourteen or fifteen before…”
“Could be. Could be sooner.”
“How old were you?”
Giles idly scratched his neck and commanded himself not to become embarrassed. His conversation with the priest had been far less comfortable and he liked Seth too much to condemn him to such a fate. “Twelve.”
“Lord Norcourt—”
“Giles,” he corrected.
Seth’s face beamed. “Giles, can I ask you something else?”
Giles clenched his teeth together. He didn’t think he could take much more of this conversation. But neither did he want Seth to be forced to ask his mother or just not know. “Of course.”
“Why were you in the orphanage?”
Giles relaxed slightly. That wasn’t so bad. He crossed his ankles. “Well, when I—”
His words were cut off when Tarley, his butler, cleared his throat. “My lord, Mr. Appleton has come to see you. He’s waiting in your study.”
“Thank you,” he murmured to the butler. Standing, he turned to Seth. “This should only take a few minutes. I’ll answer your question when I get back.” He opened the bottom drawer of the bureau and withdrew a sketchbook. “Meanwhile, why don’t you practice your drawing?” He paused and playfully wagged a finger at the boy. “And no tallywags and whirligigs, you understand?”
Shaking his head ruefully at the boy’s laughter, Giles steeled his nerves for what he might hear and went to his study.
EIGHTEEN
“Which would you like to hear first, Lord Norcourt? The good news or the good news?” Mr. Appleton asked as soon as Giles entered the room.
Giles took his seat. “The good news?”
“It’s all good news,” Mr. Appleton assured him with a chuckle. He twisted his lips. “Well, it wasn’t all good news at first, but it is now.”
“What does that mean?”
Mr. Appleton put his booted ankle on top of his knee and ran his thumb along the edge of the papers in his hand. “I’m sure this won’t come as any surprise to you, but Lord Cosgrove meant to take advantage of you.”
A hard knot formed in his stomach and the blood drained from his head. Though why he had any reaction to something he already suspected, he didn’t understand. “I assumed so. He threatened to start selling my properties if I didn’t have a wife and an heir by the thirtieth anniversary of my birth.”
“It appears he’s already tried.”
Giles involuntarily snapped the quill in his hand. “Tried?”
“He was unsuccessful.”
“Unsuccessful,” Giles repeated slowly.
“The other man’s solicitor advised him against the transaction. Which is good or we’d have an entanglement.”
Giles idly picked at the dried paint on his fingers while the man continued. He didn’t want to admit as much, but he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what an entanglement was or how one would respond to it.
“He won’t be able to do so if you’re still unwed on your thirtieth birthday, either.”
“But he told me my father’s will stated that he should use any means necessary, including depleting any asset and accounts not entailed to the barony to make me see reason.”
“That’s because he wanted to bully you into doing what he wanted.” Mr. Appleton’s voice held a stern edge similar to the one Father Thomas used when he was angry. He blew out a breath. “I can’t know this for certain, but from what I’ve surmised he wanted to make a match between you and his daughter Lady Eugenia.”
Giles’ blood turned to ice in an instant. Were Lord and Lady Cosgrove and his mother and Mr. Appleton involved in some sort of scheme to take advantage of him? His mother had told him at that blasted house party she wanted to make amends and help him find a wife. Was her goal all along to have him marry Lady Eugenia? There seemed to be a shortage of air in the room all of a sudden.
“That’d be my reaction if being faced with marriage to her, too,” Mr. Appleton commented.
Gripping the edges of his chair, Giles said, “Thank you. You may go.”
Mr. Appleton froze. “I didn’t realize you had an interest in her. My apologies.”
“I don’t.” He took a deep breath. “But I won’t—” Won’t what? He racked his brain and his mouth moved. He clamped it shut before he could look any more foolish.
“Your mother didn’t know.”
Giles’ reeling mind stilled. “Pardon?”
Mr. Appleton sighed. “Please, forgive me. I’m not always good with words.”
“Neither am I.”
Smiling, Mr. Appleton said, “Then we should both agree not to react until the other has had a chance to make a full explanation.”
“A—All right,” Giles said, idly rubbing his thumbs along the wood of his armrests.
“Your mother.” He pursed his lips. “She means well. She does. And while I agree with you that she shouldn’t have involved herself in your affairs, particularly that of finding you a wife, she fell into Lord Cosgrove’s trap. Nothing more. She just wants to see you happy and treated fairly. She has no reason to see you marry Lady Eugenia. That was solely for Lord Cosgrove’s gain.”
Giles didn’t know why, but for some reason he believed him and it felt like a lead weight was suddenly lifted. “It all was a lie?”
“Yes.” He thumbed through the stack of papers and handed Giles the four on the bottom. “This is the former Lord Norcourt’s will. All of it. It looks more complicated than it is. I’ve read it over and there is nothing in it that states anything about allowing Lord Cosgrove to sell your assets or deplete your accounts.”
Giles scanned the lines. “But he is still the one who manages the funds?”
“No. Yes. That part is a little complicated.”
“It must be if it even makes an educated man like you confused.”
Mr. Appleton chuckled. “In the event of your mother’s inability to produce a suitable heir, Lord Cosgrove was granted limited control of your funds and assets. It would seem Lord Norcourt wasn’t overly trusting of his friend because he was only permitted to use the funds as needed for improvements to the barony in addition to paying your mother a jointure and sending you your designated allowance. That’s all. Anything earned was to be saved for your heir to inherit.”
Giles hoped his disappointment didn’t show. To Mr. Appleton this large sum of money might be good news, but to him, it meant very little if it was tied up in an account to be passed on to his heir. Not that he needed great wealth to be happy, but the meager allowance that the old baron had seen fit to bestow upon him could hardly cover his expenses. He might end up in debtor’s prison in his attempt to get an heir. Were he ever so moved to find a wife. Which he wouldn’t be. At eight-and-twenty only two ladies had ever caught the slightest bit of his interest. The first was already married, and the other… Well, she’d be married soon. And to his brother at that.
“Rather confident I’d have an heir, wasn’t he?” Giles forced.
“Nearly all gentlemen have an heir,” Mr. Appleton said. “It’s just not always a son. But yes, he was confident you’d have a son—
” he paused a beat— “and I am, too. That, and your mother are the only two things the old codger and I ever agreed upon.”
Giles frowned and idly played with the plume on the broken quill. Apparently his father had thought with all of the money that would be in Giles’ coffers by the time he was of an age to marry it’d be enough to buy the affections of a lady who wanted to be baroness badly enough. He dropped the now flattened and matted feather. “Thank you for looking into this. I appreciate it.” Though clearly what he and Mr. Appleton considered good news varied.
“Have you an appointment?”
Seth was still here which meant he wouldn’t be going to White’s to meet Sebastian like he normally did. “No.”
“Good, then I’ll finish explaining.” He flashed Giles a smile. “I did promise good news, didn’t I?”
“I thought you already told me.”
Mr. Appleton’s top lip curled up, then transformed into a wide smile. “If that’s what you consider good news, this next part you might consider to be great.” He lifted his stack of papers up to his face and idly tapped the ends against his chin. “Hmmm. Can we make a bargain?”
“For what?” he asked between clenched teeth. Anytime anyone had ever wanted to make a bargain with him before, he’d come out with the rotten end. He tried to remind himself that Mr. Appleton didn’t seem that sort and unclamped his jaw.
“My information for your presence.”
“My presence?” Giles narrowed his eyes on Mr. Appleton, but damned if he knew what he should be looking for in the man’s face to give away that he had bad intentions. “I thought my money was being exchanged for your information.”
Mr. Appleton waved him off. “I’ll accept no coins for this. And—” he met Giles’ gaze— “I’ll still give you the information without your agreement to come to dinner at my house tonight. But if you’d like to, the invitation is there.”
Giles’ body relaxed. Mr. Appleton was sincere. “I’ll consider it.”
“That’s all I’d ask.” He lowered the stack of papers to his lap. “Simon will be there again, but don’t let that deter you. His mother—your mother—she meant well and given the circumstances, I can’t blame her too much for not having told him about you sooner.”
