by Lee, Jade
“I’m not ashamed.”
“I am. I will not treat you so shabbily.”
She stared at the ceiling. “I do not feel abused! This was my choice.” She touched his cheek. “Why can’t a woman choose just as a man does? Why can’t I have pleasure in my life without giving up everything to a husband?”
He blew out a breath. They were going in circles, and yet he couldn’t stop. “I don’t want to take anything from you.”
“And yet, you would. As my husband, you would take everything, and I would become nothing.”
The statement was so absurd as to be laughable. The idea that she would ever be less than the amazing woman he saw before him struck him as ridiculous. And yet she obviously believed it. So he pressed his lips to her forehead and then whispered, “I need to go for a few hours. You are well protected here so long as you don’t leave.”
She smiled at him. “I know. Thank you.”
He swallowed, overcome once again by the faith he saw shining through her eyes. Faith that he would protect her. It was with that thought in mind that he cleaned himself up as best he could and headed for the one place he had avoided since returning from Waterloo.
He headed to his family’s London home.
It was not a decent time to visit, being much too early, but that was the point. His father and brother were always early risers, even in London, while his mother often slept well into the afternoon. Knocking now would accomplish what he wanted without the complications of seeing the one woman who never failed to tie him into knots.
The butler answered the door, leaving Lucas cooling his heels on the doorstep for much too long. During the few minutes he stood there, several people passed by and looked at him with curiosity. They were all servants headed out on one errand or another, but as Ruben liked to say, what one servant saw, all of London discussed within the hour. There would be no hiding that he was back from the dead now.
Once inside, he endured the scrutiny of their newest butler. Thanks to his mother’s sharp tongue, they never kept servants for long, and so Lucas had the awkward task of explaining himself.
“Lord Chellam, to see my father and brother.”
The man stared at him in shock, then nodded, proving that the servants had already been discussing this possibility. “If you would wait a moment here, please.”
Lucas considered heading into the breakfast parlor without escort, but he was trying to make nice. So he waited, and in time, the butler returned to escort him. When he crossed into the parlor, his stomach growled at the scent of food. A hearty meal was on the sideboard, and Lucas couldn’t stop himself from turning toward it and sniffing appreciatively.
Seated at the table, his brother burst out laughing. “Did you come for a meal, brother? I thought dead mean didn’t eat.”
“The newly returned to the living do, and it has been…” He shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate a full meal like a civilized man. “A long while,” he finally said.
His father was already gesturing to the butler to set another place, and Lucas sank down into the offered chair with gratitude in his heart. Not just for the food, but for the easy way both men accepted his presence. He stayed silent as he was served a large measure of everything, then waited a bit longer to catch his family’s attention.
“I’m sorry,” he finally blurted. “I should have come here long ago.”
His father looked at him for a long moment. His brother, too. But in the end, they both returned to their food as if nothing had been said.
Though, his father did give him a crisp nod before looking back at the morning paper. “Did you see that we’re to sign a treaty with the Netherlands against the slave trade?” His father shook his head. “It’s all well and good to sign the paper, but if we don’t commit money to end the practice, it’s no more than hot air and a waste of ink.”
Nathan grunted. “Slavery is too big a problem to be handled by one nation. We need everyone else to abhor it, too. Otherwise, the blighters will always find a workaround.”
His father grunted. “We must begin at home. Stop slavery here, then we can help others to do the same.”
The conversation continued along political lines as the two men discussed the forces that caused one man to declare another as less than human. It was the most erudite conversation Lucas had had in years. No one at the Lyon’s Den talked about these things. The clientele discussed cards or how to duck bill collectors. The workers talked of how they would survive through the day. No one thought of the movements of nations except to complain about it.
But his father and brother did, and he realized he would have to as well if he meant to step into the House of Lords one day. That was a sobering thought, but one that sat better on his shoulders than it ever had before. Hadn’t he spent years among the common man? The idea that he might find a way to make their lives better through proper government appealed to him. But only in a tomorrow kind of way. Today had enough problems.
Lucas finished his meal and felt well-fed for the first time since heading to war. He was an overstuffed pigeon right now—vulnerable if anyone attacked—but damned if it didn’t feel good. He set his fork aside and leaned back with his hands on his belly. His father smiled at him and nodded to the butler. Within moments, the dishes were removed, and the servants were gone from the parlor.
“We’re alone now,” his father said in a low voice. “Out with it. What do you need?”
Nathan, too, leaned forward, his expression tight. “Have you discovered more about that attack at Vauxhall?”
“Nothing about the attack. As I feared, those thieves are long gone. But I believe we know who is behind everything.” He quickly relayed what had happened so far. He kept his voice low to prevent being overheard, and both men listened intently, their expressions reflecting every emotion that could be expected: disgust, horror, and fury.
But his brother added one more emotion. He leaned back with a knowing look on his face. “You look to wed the widow.”
Lucas jolted. It was true, but how his brother could know this from his cold recitation of facts was beyond him. His father snorted and gestured at Nathan with a dismissive flick of his hand.
“Don’t distract us with the obvious,” he said. Then he turned back to Lucas. “What do you need from us to help?”
Lucas stared at his father. Was it obvious to them? Really? Then he reset his thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand. “I need a way to bring Geoffrey out into the open. He has gone to ground, and not even my men can find him.”
Nathan frowned. “How can we help with that?”
“He’s a gambler who cannot stop. Long after it’s insane, he still keeps going. His money has been cut off. I won’t let him get to Diana, so he has to find funds somewhere. He needs a game, and he cannot go to the usual dens. I have people watching them.”
“You need us to stage a game,” his father said. “One that would lure him out?”
“Not you.” He looked at his brother. “Nathan. I think the idea of taking money from my family would be too tempting for him to resist. If you are wild and angry about losing the title…” He paused long enough to watch his brother’s face. Did Nathan resent that loss? He couldn’t tell. Nathan nodded as he followed the train of thought, his expression deeply thoughtful.
“I can get drunk and lose money as well as anybody,” Nathan muttered. “But how will that bring Geoffrey out?”
“Someone would approach you and invite you to a real man’s game.”
“A good many criminals, I shouldn’t wonder,” his father said.
Lucas shook his head. “Most of them know my true parentage by now. They wouldn’t want to cross me by duping my brother.” He grimaced. “It’s not a sure thing by any stretch, and it’s dangerous. But there are two things that have been consistent about Geoffrey. He gambles, and he’s arrogant. I think he’d believe he could win enough money from you to escape London in style, and he thinks he can do that w
ithout me catching him.”
His father shook his head. “There are too many risks in this plan. How can you know it will be Geoffrey’s man who approaches Nathan?”
“I can’t. But as I said, the sane ones won’t risk crossing me.”
“Leaving Nathan to the insane ones.”
“Yes,” he said. “But I’ll have men watching you. I won’t leave you alone.”
Nathan smiled. “And better to use me as bait than Diana?”
Lucas winced. “You’re my brother. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His father snorted. “You can’t stop a bullet. You can’t—”
“I can,” he stressed. “You don’t know what I’ve been doing these last years. I’m good at this. As good as Nathan is at growing things, I am good at protecting those in my care. It’s not without risk. In fact, it’s damn—”
“I’ll do it,” Nathan interrupted. “I’ve been incredibly bored since Vauxhall.”
Lucas blew out a breath. “Thank you.”
His brother grinned. “It’s the least I can do for my future sister-in-law.”
Would that were true. “Lady Dunnamore and I are still discussing things. She has by no means accepted my suit. In fact, she has been quite explicit in refusing it.”
Nathan waved that away in a gesture nearly identical to his father’s. “Besides, there’s the other benefit.”
Lucas frowned. “What’s that?”
“We would have a very public row, wouldn’t we? I mean, I’d have to be very angry at you for taking away my title, yes?”
“Yes.”
Nathan grinned as he pushed up from the table. “Well then, I shall really enjoy that.”
Their father pushed back from the table as well. “Now see here, I’ll not have anything untoward in my house.”
“Untoward, Father?” Nathan said. “On the contrary, I believe it will be very toward Lucas.” Then his voice kicked up to a growl loud enough to be heard through the doors to where the servants no doubt listened. “You irresponsible dog! I should kill you where you stand!”
Lucas scrambled out of his chair, making sure to knock it over in the noisiest way possible. “I let you play at being lord for a few years. You should thank me!”
“Thank you!” Nathan bellowed. “Why, you arrogant ass!”
He lunged forward in a way that Lucas could have dodged. He didn’t. Instead, he caught his brother by the arms, and they went crashing into the main foyer, wrestling with each other in the way they had as kids. They banged into the wall. They sent a footman scrambling to catch a vase as it teetered above them. The butler squeaked in alarm as Lucas tossed his brother to the side.
Nathan rolled with the throw, coming easily to his feet. There might have been a flash of pure pleasure in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by what seemed to be deadly intent. “You can’t take it from me. I won’t let you!”
Lucas arched his brow in the most arrogant expression he could muster. “You can’t stop me,” he taunted.
He expected his brother’s blow. Nathan was powerful, not fast. But damn, he did not expect the raw force behind his brother’s massive fist. It threw him back against the wall, while his head exploded in pain. But it didn’t knock him out. And while Nathan straightened up to deliver another blow, Lucas launched himself back at his brother, moving with twice the speed. He hit Nathan’s face over and over.
Lucas tried to hold back. He didn’t want to damage his brother, but they needed this to look real, and Nathan needed real marks on his face. Was that enough?
Lucas slowed his blows, knowing that most of them had landed on Nathan’s forearms, not his face. Though, one of Nathan’s eyes was already swelling. He’d have one hell of a shiner.
Nathan grabbed hold of Lucas’s torso and heaved him across the room like he was tossing a hay bale. Lucas landed in a heap as he gasped for breath. And then another voice cut through the house.
“What is the meaning of this?”
His mother. Her voice boomed through the house, and it brought everyone to a stop. Oh hell. He looked at his brother and caught a matching flash of regret. But while Lucas was still rolling to hands and knees, his brother was already standing.
Nathan glared first at her, then their father, and finally at Lucas. “It’s not fair!” he finally spit. Then he stormed out of the house.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lucas watched his brother rush out of the house, the fury and the pain looking all too real. He knew their fight had been staged, and yet part of him feared that there was true hurt behind the act. After all, he had taken the earldom back from his brother. Any man would be angry at that.
But he had deeper problems now as his mother descended the stairs as regally as a queen. Her eyes were hard, her mouth pinched shut, and she stared at him as she would a rat on her polished floor.
“Lucas,” she said, her voice excruciatingly dry. “You’ve come for a visit.”
He glanced at his father, who was hidden half in and half out of the breakfast parlor. The man gave him an apologetic look and backed away. Lucas guessed his father would now disappear through the kitchen to his London club, which left Lucas alone with his mother. Not an experience he relished. But in Ireland, he had seen Diana work with any number of hateful people who despised the mere fact that she was female. The least he could do was try to find common ground with his mother.
“I am here,” he said. “And I’ve come specifically to ask for your help.”
She paused on the last step to stare at him, and no wonder. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d asked for her help, and her shock echoed his own at the thought.
“If you wanted my help, you shouldn’t have come at this hour.” She looked out the window at the bright sunshine. “I am never about until after noon.”
He acknowledged her statement with a slight bow. “I’d forgotten,” he lied.
She arched a brow and took the last step down to the foyer. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “What is it?”
“I find my clothing exceedingly unfashionable. If I am to become an earl one day, I should dress the part, but I have no understanding of what is expected these days. I should like your help ordering clothing, if you would care to lend a hand.”
Her scrutiny did not soften as she pounced on one word. “If you become an earl?”
He gave her a rueful shrug. “There is still hope that someone will murder me in my bed. And there is always the danger of illness or insanity.”
She grimaced. “You think I want you dead?”
“Don’t you?” he challenged. He had meant to find common ground with her but found he wanted honesty more. “You want Nathan to inherit.”
“I do,” she admitted, and he could not restrain his flinch. “He is the better steward. You always dreamed of going far and wide. No nanny could keep you from running, and you even went to war before finishing your schooling.” She shook her head. “Your brother likes it at home.”
“Which makes him a proper earl?”
“It makes him at home.” She held his gaze for a long moment as if her words were self-explanatory. They weren’t. Not to him. Did she think a man should linger at home, constantly in his mother’s skirts? The idea was ridiculous, and yet, he could see the truth of it in her face. She liked that Nathan preferred the country to the city, that he preferred a quiet life of farming when Lucas had always craved adventure.
“That is…” He almost said “ridiculous” but softened his tone at the last second. “Unreasonable. An earl’s political responsibilities require him to be here in the city.”
Her eyes sparkled in anger. “It is unreasonable that the first time you are here in years sees a brawl in the hallway. Broken furniture and your brother’s disappearance.” She pointed to the remains of a table cluttering the hall. At least her vase had been saved.
He bowed his head. “My apologies, Mother. I will remove myself—”
“Stop!” she snapped, her voice
both exasperated and angry. “You came here for my help, and you shall have it.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted it now, but he dipped his chin. “Thank—”
“On one condition.” She waited until she had his full attention. “You will eat nuncheon with me.”
He blinked, completely confused. One moment she wished him with the devil, and the next, she demanded his attendance at his next meal? “I…If that is what you wish, then, of course, I shall be here for tea.”
“Swear it,” she ordered. “I know you have never gone back on your word.”
That wasn’t true. He’d never purposefully failed, but promises in war are often broken. Especially those made to men about to go into battle. “I swear I will be here, provided my other responsibilities do not claim me first.” And when she looked at him askance, he huffed out a breath. “Mother, I am in the middle of important matters.”
She waved them away. “I should be one of your important matters.”
He swallowed away a caustic retort. After all, he had asked for her help. She could have refused him. But that didn’t mean he would give her the satisfaction of saying something untrue. He would do his best to attend tea. That was all. In the end, she pursed her lips and nodded.
“Give me a moment to dress, and then I will accompany you to Bond Street.”
He smiled and bowed, already itching to be away. He didn’t like the idea that his mother would stand with him at a tailor’s as if he were a boy still in leading strings. But he had started on this path and would see it through, even if it made him feel like a humiliated child.
It didn’t. And what a shock that was!
Several hours later, he was stunned to realize that his mother knew how to shop for a man. She knew how to speak to a tailor with utmost efficiency, explaining things he could only guess at. She picked patterns that gave him freedom of movement and no hint of foppery. And best of all, while he was being measured from top to bottom, she faded away to discuss fabric and buttons, such that she was not even in the same room with him.