The Hero Least Likely

by Darcy Burke

  “Too many things to explain, I suppose” Giles said.

  “No, too much hurt to relive,” Mr. Appleton said. “She just, well—” He sliced a hand through the air. “It’s probably best we not talk about this now. I’d hate to put a damper on your good news.”

  “I thought it was great news,” Giles teased, relieved for the change of topic.

  “Right, you are,” Mr. Appleton agreed with a chuckle. “Well, it’s not all great, mind you. Some of it can only be termed as infuriating, but I think everything considered, you’ll be satisfied.”

  Giles just stared at him, anxious.

  “Norcourt granted Cosgrove the right to act as your guardian and overseer of all of the funds until your twentieth birthday at which time you’d inherit or if a physician deemed you were of unsound mind you’d cease to be heir and the barony and everything Lord Norcourt owned would be transferred to his nephew.”

  “He can have it,” Giles muttered.

  “No, it’s yours. Well, most of it any way,” he amended. “Unfortunately, the majority of the earnings from anything unentailed over the last eight years have gone to Cosgrove’s coffers, but the rest is in a trust.”

  “For my heir?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Appleton said quietly. “Everything that has already been earned and deposited in that account is reserved for your heir. In addition anything else your barony continues to earn will be deposited into the trust, minus whatever funds are needed for the upkeep as determined by Mr. Forrester and Mr. Robins who have been appointed to act as the trustees until you are succeeded.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “However, the good—nay, great—news is that any future earnings on anything unentailed are legally yours and will be deposited in your accounts starting next month.”

  The air left Giles’ lungs in a whoosh. “Is it more than thirty pounds?”

  Mr. Appleton chuckled. “Yes. You’ll be very comfortable.”

  “Th-thank you,” Giles said.

  “You don’t need to thank me. I was glad to help.” He stood and handed Giles some papers from his satchel. “Keep these locked up for your records. I need to keep these for a few days longer if you don’t mind. I’ll bring them back next week?”

  “Is there something unsettled?”

  “Not unsettled, just undiscovered.” Mr. Appleton picked up his satchel and started for the door.

  Giles followed him into the hall. “Can I ask what?”

  “You can ask, but you already know my price.” He grinned and put on his coat. “I’ll be back next week with more details. Until then, if you’re available for dinner, we’d enjoy the company.”

  “Thank you,” Giles murmured. He’d go have dinner over there at some point, he was sure of it. Just not anytime soon.

  Mr. Appleton’s fingertips fell on Giles’ shoulder, staying him from opening the door. “If you’d rather not dine with all of us, but wish to come by for a game of cards or a drink, I’ll take that, too.”

  Giles stared blankly at the man. He honestly couldn’t fathom why Mr. Appleton would want to have a drink or play cards with him. Even Sebastian didn’t invite him over for either of those pursuits. And yet, there was nothing about Mr. Appleton that made him think he was being baited with the invitation. Odd.

  “I’ll think about it,” he lied, opening the front door.

  Wordlessly, Mr. Appleton took his leave.

  A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside Giles as he closed the door then stepped into his painting room.

  “Sorry. That took longer than I thought.”

  “That’s all right,” Seth said, his pencil moving back and forth across the paper.

  Giles walked over behind Seth’s chair to see what he was drawing. “Is that a horse?”

  “It’s supposed to be, but I can’t get his front legs right. The first time, they were too short—” he flipped a few pages back in the book— “then they were too long—” he flipped the page again— “and now they look too wide apart.”

  “They look fine to me. Extend the lines of the body a little longer before you draw in the back legs.”

  Seth made a few quick marks on the paper. “Like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  A slow smile spread across the boy’s face. “I thought you said you don’t teach.”

  “I don’t. It was merely a suggestion,” he said, picking up another of his sketchbooks.

  The clock behind him chimed the hour just then.

  “I need to go!” Seth frantically tossed down the pad and pencil and scampered toward the door.

  Giles reached for him to stay him. “You can take the paper with you if you’d like.”

  “I can?”

  “Just don’t bring it back filled with naughty drawings.”

  “I can come back?”

  Giles stilled. “If you want to.”

  “I want to. I just thought…”

  Giles knew exactly what he’d thought. He’d been left alone many times in a room by an adult who didn’t want to be around him. “Seth, as I said before, that meeting lasted longer than I expected. Next time you come see me I’ll spend the entire day with you.”

  “Monday?”

  “Monday will be fine. Are you sure you don’t want to spend time with your mama and Simon?”

  “They need their privacy,” Seth declared.

  “Privacy?” They weren’t even married yet!

  “They’re courting. They need time to talk and such.”

  “And such?” Giles choked out, heat rising in his face.

  Seth twisted his lips. “Ride horses on some Row, sit on benches together, picnic at the park. I don’t want to do any of that.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I’d rather come here, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind. I actually like you coming by, but don’t want to get in the way of your friendship with Simon since he’s to be your papa and all.” He hated the way his throat hurt as he said those words.

  “Just because you’re not going to be my papa doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, too,” Seth said. “It’s the same as what Mr. Appleton said to you before leaving—he just wants to be your friend even if you don’t want to be friends with Mrs. Appleton or Simon.” He picked up the pad of paper. “I need to be going now. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Giles numbly watched the boy walk out the door. Either that boy was extremely perceptive or Giles really should be locked away in an asylum. He hadn’t thought about Mr. Appleton’s attempts to befriend him as anything other than a means to get him to reconcile with his mother—something he was more inclined to do with each passing day anyway—he might be after a friendship.

  He idly scratched the side of his pencil with his thumbnail. Would it be so bad to form a friendship with the man? He seemed to be genuine with his efforts to help Giles. Perhaps the next time he offered, Giles would accept his invitation.

  NINETEEN

  Lucy fingered the white lace that she’d just sewn onto the cuff of the blue dress that Mrs. Appleton had brought her yesterday. Mrs. Appleton had acted nonchalant about bringing her three gowns and even claimed them to be unneeded. Lucy hadn’t wanted to accept such charity, mind you, but her need for suitable gowns had far outweighed her pride and she’d graciously accepted the older woman’s generosity. They’d needed minor adjustments, of course. Some were done with just a needle and thread and others, like this cuff, had required new lace. Which she’d been able to buy and still managed to have a few coins left over that she planned to use to treat Seth.

  The poor lad had been on his best behavior for her in the two weeks since they’d come to London and she thought it was time to reward him. It wouldn’t be much, of course, because she couldn’t be wasteful. Not that she had a lot to waste, but he did deserve something.

  “How about if we go get an ice,” Lucy said, sitting down in the chair beside him in the corner of the library.

  His head snapped up from behind the pad of paper he’d
been drawing on constantly for the past two days. “What’s an ice?”

  “It’s a treat.” She tugged the pad from his fingers and blinked at the picture he’d drawn. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it looked far more appropriate than the last thing she’d seen him draw. “That looks lovely.”

  “Really?” he exclaimed, beaming.

  “Of course.” She almost wished she hadn’t commented, for if he asked what she liked best about it, she wasn’t sure what she’d say. “Now, go put this upstairs so we can go and get back before dark.”

  Thirty seconds later, Seth had deposited the sketchpad he’d found only heaven knew where upstairs and was ready to go. “Are we going to Covent Gardens to get the ice?” he asked as she locked up the library.

  “No. There’s a vendor not too far from here.” She took an extra second to test the lock. “It’s just down the street.”

  “Really?” The excitement in his voice was contagious and Lucy found herself grinning just the same.

  “Really,” she confirmed, wrapping an arm around him. She’d never tell him, or anyone this, but she’d been looking forward to getting another ice since Simon had gotten her one the day of the statue museum. Something about that one had been tainted and made it hard to enjoy. She had every intention to enjoy this one.

  “This is the way to Lord Norcourt’s house,” Seth commented.

  Lucy nearly tripped. “Is it?” she said as airily as she could manage, though she knew very well that it was.

  “Yes. It’s that one.” He pointed to a tall, tan brick house about four houses down.

  “And how would you know?” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have asked that, she should have just changed the subject while she still could.

  Seth gave her a sideways glance. “We stayed there.”

  Lucy blushed. Indeed, they had, but she hadn’t taken notice of his address then. She’d had too many other things on her mind that day.

  “Besides, Simon pointed it out that night he brought us home.”

  “Did he now? I don’t remember that.” It was the truth, too. She didn’t remember Simon saying anything about it being Giles’ house. Probably because she was too distracted watching his carriage stop there for him to get out.

  “Should we stop and see if he wants to get an ice, too?”

  Seth’s words brought her up short. “I’m sure he already has plans for the evening.” He was a lord, a peer of the realm, she could almost guarantee he had more important things to do than go have an ice with her and Seth.

  “Oh, there he is—” Seth pulled away from her— “I’ll go ask him.”

  Before she could reach out and stop him, he’d gotten away.

  Tamping down her mortification, she joined them where they stood at the bottom of the steps that led to his house.

  “Mama and me are about to go get ices, would you like to come?”

  “Ice?” he clipped; a shadow crossed his face.

  “Flavored ice,” Lucy supplied. “From a vendor.”

  Giles’ puckered brow didn’t relax, nor did his set jaw. “Flavored ice?”

  “To eat,” Seth said helpfully.

  “I don’t like ice,” Giles said flatly.

  Lucy had no idea how to respond to that.

  Seth, however, had no reservation. “That’s all right. You can still come with us. Can’t he, Mama?”

  “Seth, Lord Norcourt might have other plans already,” she said softly.

  “He doesn’t,” Seth rebutted. “He said he was just on his way out to the park to look at a bird. There’ll be birds there tomorrow, so he can come with us tonight.”

  It was on her lips to suggest that just because he didn’t have any pressing matter to attend to that he might not wish to join them, but was cut off when Giles said, “I’ll come.”

  “Perhaps there’ll be something else you might enjoy,” Lucy offered.

  Giles shrugged as if to say he didn’t care either way and offered her his arm.

  Giles didn’t care what the vendor was selling, he’d enjoy the company and that was good enough.

  “I think the vendor is just two more blocks up here, by the fabric shop.”

  Giles knew where she was talking about. He’d seen the man peddling his goods. The man was dratted annoying, he was. Yelling and hollering to get people’s attention so they’d buy his goods. Had Giles had more coins in his pocket, there had been a time or two when he’d have bought something from the man just to close his mouth. Giles didn’t realize he’d sold ices, however, and might have hesitated before spending his coins on such a thing. He shivered. He hated ice. No, hated was too weak of a word. He detested ice.

  “He’s right there,” Lucy said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze that sent fire through his veins.

  As if he’d seen them coming from down the block, the vendor started running toward them. “Care to buy yer purdy la’y an ice?”

  “Yes,” Giles clipped. “And the boy.”

  The man nodded excitedly. “Yes, yes.” He waved them over to his cart. “Lemon or wine flavor?”

  “Lemon,” Lucy said automatically.

  “Eh, come now, ye’d like the wine flavor,” the vendor urged.

  “No, thank you. We’ll take lemon.”

  “At least try it,” the vendor encouraged, thrusting a cup full of a red substance into Lucy’s face, missing her nose by a mere half-inch.

  “She said lemon,” Giles said, pushing the man’s beefy arm away.

  “T’ree lemon ices, den,” the vendor said.

  “Two,” Giles corrected with a shiver.

  “Two?” The blond-haired vendor stared at them through his grey eyes, then suddenly a smile spread his lips. “Eh, yer gwine share it, aren’t ye?” he asked with a wink at Giles. “Ye’ll wish she’d asked for the wine, fer sure.”

  Giles felt his face flush, but didn’t know what to say to assure Lucy he had no such interest in sharing her ice. Not that he thought for an instant she’d want to share her ice with him. That would be…odd.

  “Here ye are,” the vendor said, pushing two ices in Giles’ direction.

  He took them and handed one to Lucy and the other to Seth before fishing the coins out of his pocket to pay the man his price.

  “Shall we go eat these in the park?” Lucy asked.

  “You don’t have to come with me to the park,” Giles said.

  Lucy swallowed a bite of her ice. “Nonsense. You escorted us to the vendor to get an ice and saved us from having to suffer that obnoxious man alone. We’d like to go with you to the park.” She lowered her spoon. “Unless you’d rather be alone.”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “Absolutely not. It’s just three blocks that way.”

  By the time they arrived, Seth had no more than four bites left to his ice. Lucy, who must either not like the food or loved it and wanted to savor it, had eaten hers at a snail’s pace and still had most of hers left.

  “Where is best to sit?” she asked, lifting her right hand to her brow and scanning the park.

  “This bench.”

  Lucy blinked down at the bench in front of her. “But won’t the leaves of this tree be in our way to see the birds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would we sit there? Wouldn’t it be better if we sat over there under that large tree that’s by the water?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t we?”

  “Your dress.”

  Lucy looked down at her dress. “Pardon?”

  “It’ll get dirty.”

  “That’s all right,” she said. “Besides, if you were really worried about it, you could always be a true gentleman and remove your coat so I can sit on it.” She must not have meant to say that for as soon as the words were out, her face turned almost as red as that wine flavored ice the vendor had tried to accost her with.

  “As you wish, my lady.” He offered her his arm, then led her to the spot she’d indicated and shed his coat. “Here,” he
murmured, laying his dark blue coat out on the grass like a blanket.

  “I was only teasing,” she said, laughingly.

  Giles shrugged and patted the fabric until she relented and sat.

  “Can I put my feet in the water?” Seth asked.

  “I don’t know if you’re allowed,” his mother said.

  “He’s allowed. People do it all the time.”

  “Oh, all right, but roll up your trousers and do not go in past your knees, Seth.” She pointed a finger at him. “I mean it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, plopping down next to them and untying the laces on his boots. A moment later, his worn leather boots were off and so were his stockings. Then he was on his feet and racing away from them.

  “Thank you for the ice,” Lucy said.

  Giles nodded uncomfortably. “You’re welcome.” He stretched his legs out in front of himself and watched Seth roll up the bottom of his trousers and test the water with his toes. “Is it good?”

  “Yes. Would you like to try some?”

  Giles turned his head to face her. “No. I don’t like ice.”

  “They’re a little tart, aren’t they?” she commented, licking her lips.

  “You don’t have to finish eating it if you don’t like it.”

  “No, I do.” She ate another spoonful as if to prove her point. “I was just saying that for someone who doesn’t like lemons—or wine—an ice might not be very enjoyable.”

  “I like lemons,” he commented. “It’s ice I don’t like.”

  “You mean actual ice?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t like that, either,” she murmured, watching Seth wade into the water. “Though it’s cold, I always think it burns when it touches my skin.”

  “When did you have an ice bath?” he demanded a little more angrily than he’d intended. He couldn’t say why, but the thought that anyone had made Lucy take an ice bath made him murderous.

  “An ice bath?” she queried, giving him her full attention. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I just meant when I don’t have suitable gloves or I’m asked to run outside to retrieve something and I bump an icicle with my bare skin. It burns.” She lowered her ice to her lap. “What exactly is an ice bath?”