“But think of the ice sculpture,” Lord Lampton implored.
Adam turned to face him more fully. “You’ve been present when this has been discussed in Lords. Were you not listening when we were told of those pouring out of Wales, hungry and broken by their losses, or when we discussed the famine plaguing Ireland because of this weather? Do not make light of this.”
“My good man,” Lampton sauntered a bit closer, “I am happy to share my ice sculpture with anyone who wishes to enjoy it.”
Adam tossed his pole onto the bank and moved toward Lampton. His stride was not one of friendly camaraderie. Linus eyed Harry, unsure how quickly they ought to intervene.
“I first took up my seat in Lords when I was twenty-one years old.” Adam’s voice tightened with each word. “For six years, I served there with your father. For six years, I watched him as an example of how a gentleman fulfills his duties. I admired him. Deeply.”
Some of the earl’s bravado died, replaced by a tension of his own.
“For his sake,” Adam continued, “I have held my tongue while you have pranced and preened about that chamber. I have held out hope that eventually you would decide to live up to his legacy. But you never do. He was a gentleman worthy of that title. You, sir, are a disgrace to his memory.”
“How dare you.” The earl didn’t sound the least superficial now. “How dare you stand on my father’s land and question his legacy.”
“So long as that legacy is borne by the likes of you, I will question it at every turn.”
The two men stood within throttling distance now. Linus tucked his fishing pole into the space between two rocks and stepped closer to the combatants, ready to jump in should it prove necessary. Harry made his way over to him.
“I know what it is to be a too-young member of Lords,” Adam said, “without a father to guide me, without the first idea of how to be a gentleman of worth. There are others in that chamber in that same position, and they look to you, Lampton. You draw attention, no doubt on purpose, and they see you. They see the example you set, and you are teaching them to be frippery wastes.”
For the first time in the course of Linus’s entire acquaintance with the earl, Lampton looked almost threatening. A harshness settled in his eyes and in the tenseness of his features. There was something in the set of his shoulders that, to Linus’s experienced gaze, spoke of one familiar with battle. “You, Your Grace, are teaching them to cast judgment and aspersion without bothering to know the entirety of a situation. For why bother discovering what one does not know when one can simply assume the worst and judge accordingly.”
Adam pointed an accusatory finger at Lampton’s face. “You think I do not see what you are? I watched you toss those weaselly Hamptons from your home with all the precise determination your father possessed. I know when Miss Hampton grew ill, you saw to her care without hesitation. I have seen your attentiveness to your mother. You know how to be worthy; you know how to be strong and capable. You choose not to be.”
Lampton, to his credit, didn’t flinch or squirm as most men would have. He raised an eyebrow, not unlike Adam’s signature look. “You wish to speak of masks? To all the world you appear hard and cold through and through. You are known as the Dangerous Duke. You are feared and fearsome and, if rumors are to be believed, are more heartless than the devil himself. Yet I have watched you. You are tender with your son. You look at your wife with an affection that belies the moniker you have encouraged over the years. I remember well enough the gentleness you showed your quiet and tenderhearted sister-in-law during her debut in Society. You may feel justified in decrying my frivolous behavior, but you, sir, are more of a counterfeit than I will ever be.”
Linus inched closer to them. Mentioning Adam’s family was perilous, whether or not Lampton knew as much. Harry watched the gentlemen but looked more curious than concerned.
“Do what you will with your father’s legacy,” Adam said. “That is yours to dispose of, but I will not stand silently by while you cause innocent people to suffer.”
“I certainly hope you mean to explain that remark,” Lampton said tightly.
“Life has dealt your wife a difficult enough hand without you adding to her misery.”
Lampton’s nostrils flared. “You would dare speak of my wife.”
“I would dare defend her,” Adam growled back. “She is unhappy, and you, sir, with your ridiculous and exasperating behavior contribute to that daily.” They stood nearly nose to nose.
“This is how you live worthy of your father’s title?” Lampton snarled.
“Better than the way you live worthy of your wife’s devotion.”
At that, a brawl worthy of the seediest den of villainy broke loose. Gentleman Jackson himself would have been impressed with the immediate and vicious round of fisticuffs that ensued.
Linus took a single step before Harry grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Let them work out some frustration,” Harry said. “This has been building for days.”
“But Persephone—”
“Is going to kill us either way.”
He had a point.
Charlie arrived at Linus’s side a moment later, his eye on the men circling each other nearby, fists at the ready, taking regular jabs, more than half of them landing with force. “Your brother-in-law doesn’t fight dirty, does he?”
“Of course he does.”
That brought a little worry to the young man’s face. “I don’t think Philip has scuffled with anyone since we were kids. He’s going to get killed.”
“Adam, I think you have a fish on your line,” Harry called out.
“Shut up, Harry,” came the response.
Harry nodded sagely. “I believe you can rest easy, Mr. Jonquil. If Adam were determined to actually kill your brother, he wouldn’t have taken the time to put me in my place.”
Charlie looked to Linus for confirmation.
“He does fight dirty,” Linus said, “but only when he has to. This fight seems fair enough. Besides, I think your brother is making a good showing for himself.”
It was nothing short of the truth. Both men looked equally worse for the wear. Not many gentlemen could have scuffed up the Duke of Kielder without finding themselves inching toward their own deathbed. The lanky, dandified earl was proving fierce.
“Well, how about that,” Charlie said quietly. “Philip is good for something after all.” He watched only a moment before venturing back toward the river and the rocks he’d been wandering on before.
“There’s a chasm between those two brothers,” Harry said.
Linus nodded. “A bigger one than I think the earl realizes. And one the poor boy doesn’t know how to cross.”
They turned their attention back to the combatants. The fight hadn’t progressed, but neither had it really ebbed. Obviously neither participant was bent on the other’s destruction. Harry had been right, it seemed. They were merely boiling over a bit. It’d do them both good.
Lud, maybe the earl and his brother ought to go a few rounds. At least it would be some interaction, which Charlie needed rather desperately.
“How long do we let this continue before sending them both to the nursery, where they belong?” Harry asked with a smile.
Just as Linus opened his mouth to answer, a splash interrupted. He turned immediately to look where Charlie had been standing and saw an empty outcropping of rocks. He’d fallen in.
Linus rushed in that direction, pulling off his jacket.
The fight ended abruptly.
Lampton called after him, though a bit breathless. “Charlie swims very well. No need sacrificing yourself.”
Sure enough, the young man was expertly making his way back to shore a bit downstream. Lampton and Adam moved to where Linus stood watching, one on either side of him.
“I ought to have known
Charlie would fall in if we brought him,” Lampton said. “He is forever getting himself into scrapes. I can’t take him anywhere.”
“How many places do you take him?” Linus asked a bit under his breath.
Lampton didn’t answer but called out to his brother instead. “You’d best head back to the house and change. Try not to fall into a ditch or something on the way there.”
Charlie tossed his brother what was likely supposed to be a glare, but a painful degree of embarrassment filled his expression. The young man dragged himself away, head hung a little, steps slow and heavy. Poor Charlie.
Harry joined them on the bank of the river and eyed Adam and Lampton. “You two look like a couple of tomcats after an alley brawl.”
Adam’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “No one tells Persephone.”
“Or Sorrel,” Philip added. “If my wife finds out, she’ll make this bout of fisticuffs look like a ballroom waltz.”
“Mine as well.” Adam turned to Philip and held out his hand. “A vow of secrecy?”
Philip shook it firmly.
Harry grinned and turned to Linus. “Shall we vow to keep mum as well? I, for one, am not nearly as afraid of their wives as they clearly are.”
“I am,” Linus said. “One of those wives is my oldest sister; I know how fearsome she is. And Lady Lampton wields her walking stick like one who knows precisely how to put it to good use.”
A corner of Lampton’s mouth, the corner not trickling blood, twitched upward. “She most certainly does.”
“That settles it,” Harry said. “If anyone asks, these two were attacked by a bloodthirsty trout.”
“Make it a lamprey, and I’ll go along with the tale,” Lampton said. “To be attacked by an eel would make a far better story.”
“What of you, Adam?” Harry asked. “What type of fish shall we say you scuffled with?”
Adam eyed Lampton for a drawn-out moment. “A minnow.”
They all laughed at that. Adam even smiled ever so slightly. Lampton sketched a brief bow of acknowledgment. It seemed they’d brokered a peace. Had they done so a few days earlier, Linus might have taken advantage of some additional free time to spend with Arabella. That, however, would only have further fueled the gossip now hovering about them.
He would not cause her more distress. He would keep his distance and both their reputations intact. No matter the misery of denying himself her company, he would do what he must for her.
* * *
“Lieutenant Lancaster, thank you for coming.”
Linus stopped in the doorway of a small sitting room. He offered a brief bow, his attention a little pulled. Lady Lampton had sent a note requesting a brief audience with him. Seeing Persephone in the room as well was unexpected.
“Please have a seat.” Lady Lampton motioned to a straight-backed chair placed on its own, facing the two wingback armchairs the ladies occupied.
He offered no objections, though he harbored plenty of suspicions. “What can I do for you?”
“You were at the river today, I believe.” The countess, with her stiff posture, unyielding gaze, and firm, frilless tone, was surprisingly intimidating.
“I was,” he said.
The ladies exchanged the briefest of glances before turning their attention to him once more.
Persephone spoke next. “Tell us about the eels, if you would. We have heard some very strange rumors.”
Ah, lud. They knew about the fight, at least some of it. And, it seemed, the ridiculous plan to blame the fish had been carried out.
“All I will say is that fish are not very bright.”
Lady Lampton was undeterred. “Which one swore you to secrecy, the eel or the minnow?”
“I have fought plenty of battles,” Linus said. “I stay out of them whenever possible.”
“Both,” Persephone said with a crisp nod.
There was no keeping secrets from his sister. There never had been.
“He promised me he would behave.” Persephone’s lips tensed in frustration. “I simply wanted one gathering where he didn’t send everyone fleeing in fear.”
“Believe me, Lampton was not fleeing.”
That brought curiosity to both ladies’ faces, though only Persephone seemed surprised.
“Philip is more than capable of defending himself,” Lady Lampton said. “I imagine he held his own against the attack.”
Though he was likely being a little disloyal to the gentlemen, Linus felt compelled to explain things a bit better to the ladies. “At the risk of interjecting where I’m not welcome, Lady Lampton, your husband was not the one attacked.”
Now they both looked shocked.
In for a penny, as the old saying went. “They have been at each other’s throats since before this house party. Things boiled over at the river. There was an argument. Adam expressed concern that Lampton is at times neglectful and causes misery.” Linus looked fully at Persephone. “You know Adam’s feelings on that.”
She nodded, both weariness and pride in the gesture. “He never could bear for anyone to be hurting without rising to their defense. He does not always pause to think before rushing in.”
“Well, he didn’t this time either. Lampton took umbrage at the insinuation and belted him. Adam, being Adam, slugged back and . . .” Linus shrugged.
“Why did you not stop them?” Persephone asked.
“For one thing, they would have torn me to pieces. For another, they are grown men; they don’t need me to play nursemaid.”
“The current state of their faces says otherwise,” Persephone answered drily.
Lady Lampton, who hadn’t spoken in a while, eyed him closely. “Who was it your brother-in-law accused my Philip of mistreating?”
For a man who’d bemoaned being an overlooked outsider in this gathering, he’d certainly been pulled into the thick of it.
“I would rather not say, Lady Lampton.”
“Come out with it, Lieutenant,” she said. “If something upset my husband enough to result in today’s fiasco, I have a right to know what it was.”
From now on, Linus intended to fully embrace his membership in the club of misfits and leave everyone outside of it to sort their own difficulties. He and Arabella would be perfectly happy not navigating these treacherous waters.
“I should warn you,” the countess pressed, “I am both determined and impatient, and I’m not afraid to use your sister to get the truth out of you.”
“I will happily help,” Persephone said. “I want to know what accusation Adam flung at him. Whom did he say Lord Lampton was mistreating?”
Linus slumped in his chair. How had he found himself in this situation? “Lady Lampton,” he said. “Adam said he believed that Lampton was making his own wife miserable.”
Persephone turned to Lady Lampton, who had paled even as her brow had drawn down in confusion. The countess’s eyes held worry, pain.
“He ought not to have said that.” Persephone set her hand on Lady Lampton’s. “He means well, but he doesn’t always know how to help.”
Linus slipped quietly from his chair. He met Persephone’s eye and motioned silently to the door. She nodded.
Stepping into the corridor, he sighed his relief even as he cursed his own recklessness in placing himself in such an awkward situation. Perhaps home, with its emptiness and loneliness, would not be such a bad thing after all.
Chapter Eighteen
No specific entertainment was planned for that evening. Though the dowager explained it as a desire to allow her guests and that evening’s additions to interact more freely, Linus thought she looked a little weary, the weight of hosting a two-week-long party apparently taking a toll. Arabella, sitting beside her, looked more tired still. And yet Linus kept to the other side of the room. He’d found himself in enough entanglements witho
ut adding “fueling gossip” to the list.
Lampton was in rare form that night, making any number of inane observations, all of which were roaringly funny if one assumed that was his aim. After that afternoon’s scuffle, Linus felt certain the earl’s frivolity was, in large part, an act.
“I was justified in pounding him,” Adam muttered a full half hour after dinner, having been subjected to the commentary during the meal and the “performance” afterward. Both he and Lampton were sporting poorly concealed cuts and bruises. “There are few things as wasteful as a gentleman who chooses to be frivolous when he is fully capable of being an asset in the world.”
Linus eyed him sidelong. “What about one who chooses to be dastardly when he is fully capable of being at least a little bit personable?”
“Lampton already sermonized on that score. If you start preaching to me, I will drag you back to the river and grant you a renewed acquaintance with water.”
Linus always had enjoyed Adam’s flare for creative threats. “You mean to drown me?”
“You and then Harry. Then Lampton. And then your overly dramatic sister. That would simplify my life tremendously.” The return of Adam’s irritability put Linus firmly in mind of Caroline’s declaration that the duke was not grumpy but sad.
He watched his brother-in-law as the evening wore on. There was, in fact, a degree of sadness in his expression but a vague and old one. Persephone said Adam still deeply mourned his father’s passing. She’d also said he’d experienced true sadness when Daphne had married and left home, and she expected the same to be true of Artemis’s departure. How much of Adam’s fearsomeness was grief, sorrow he did not know how to work through?
Linus felt much of that same irremovable heartache. His mother had died so long ago, yet he missed her every day. His father’s loss had been slower and, in some ways, more tragic. He had felt a sense of relief when the pain of such a slow decline had finally ended, but his heart had broken anew at losing his last remaining parent.
In a rush of unexpected emotion, his heart told his head what it had tried so hard to ignore. Those losses were difficult and heavy, but none was so raw as Evander’s death. They had been as close as two brothers could be, even before their time at sea had forged an even deeper bond. Evander had been his closest friend, his only confidante, the one piece of his family he hadn’t lost. He had clung to that, to the fragile strand that held him to the life he’d known.
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