Truly Yours (33 page)

“I am relieved that she will have his expertise in legal matters, especially when I cannot count on riding to her rescue.”

“No one knows more about the law than your father. He is resting now. I do not know what that man was thinking, to let himself get so frail.”

Rex supposed heartbreak and disappointment had much to do with the earl’s condition. “Do you care?”

“I do.” When she knew that Rex understood she spoke the truth, she came back to his side and straightened the covers around him. “Would it bother you to see me and your father reconciled?”

Rex remembered the argument he’d overheard. “Is that possible, after all these years?”

“I pray so. I have always loved him, you know. Now we are older, and hopefully wiser, and have seen the cost both to you and to us in all the wasted years. I am not afraid of him any longer, or you, seeing what a fine man you are and how much good you have done. His other son has turned out to be an excellent gentleman also, with no assistance from me, to my shame. Royce swears he trusts me, and will never doubt me again. More, we have both realized that pride is a sorry companion. We have enough regrets. Maybe we have a chance to find happiness.”

“Nothing would please me more,” Rex said, wishing she could recognize the truth when she heard it. Both of his parents seemed incomplete and alone. They needed each other, while he had his own life to make. “Try.” He tapped his bandaged head. “We Royce men have thick skulls, you know. But we can change. We can learn.”

“I hope so, for my sake, and for Amanda’s sake.”

She left Rex alone to think, but his mind shied in so many different directions he could barely catch an idea to harness. He was concussed, he told himself, not half-crazed with trying to tell himself lies about murder and marriage and Amanda. He fell asleep again, wishing she were beside him. Forever.

“Impossible,” he muttered when he woke up.

“I agree,” Murchison said in French. The usually silent valet was frenzied, trying to care for three gentlemen at once, one wounded, one weary from his journey, and one wearing circus costumes.

“News, man, what news?” Rex did not even know what day it was, or how much time had passed.

Murchison gave a Gallic shrug. How did he have time to find a killer? Then he gave a piercing whistle that knifed through Rex’s poor head, but brought a footman running with a clean nightshirt. They crammed the viscount into it, leaving him damp and seeing double again. Damn, he had to get better before they killed him! And where was Amanda?

Later—at least he thought it was later, because the room appeared darker—he thought he saw her in the corner with some sewing. “Angel?”

“Why, the angels have not come for you yet, Master Jordan,” Nanny Brown whispered, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were all swollen with weeping, and her fingers were trembling so hard that he felt it necessary to take the cup of tea she brought him before she spilled it on his chest. Rex was not up to having his nightshirt changed again. But he was better, he was relieved to see. He could even bring the cup up to his lips without bumping his nose, and there was only one of his old nursemaid.

“Do not worry yourself into a decline, Nanny. I’ll be fine. Why don’t you find your own bed?”

“Oh, I could not leave you alone!”

Since his bladder was full from all the water, tea, lemonade, barley water, and soup they’d been pouring down him, she’d better leave, or embarrass both of them. Nanny scurried out when he made his need for the chamber pot known, and Rex was pleased to see he could do something else for himself finally. He’d be up and about his business—Amanda’s business—before the surgeon could say permanent damage.

His next caller was not Amanda, either, but he was happier to see his cousin than he expected. “Have you any news?”

“No, but I have raspberry tarts fresh from the oven. Best eat them quickly before that starchy cook of my aunt’s comes with a carving knife. Don’t know what the woman was saving them for, if not family.”

“I cannot feel like eating.”

“Even better,” Daniel said, splitting the first one in half to share with Verity. “I thought you’d be starving, after all that infant food they serve in the sickroom.”

He’d come back from the search, he said between bites, to see if Rex remembered anything more about his assailant. They both knew he’d come back to check on Rex’s progress. “Happy to see you looking more the thing.” He took another bite, then studied the remaining tart. “Word is you’ve been looking at Amanda like she’s as sweet a morsel as this. Your mother doesn’t trust you with the gal.”

“Interfering autocrat,” Rex muttered.

Daniel smiled and wiped crumbs off his mouth. “When are you going to admit you love her?”

“The countess?”

His cousin laughed. “Miss Carville. Your ears are turning red just thinking about her. Bet your heart is racing, too.”

“Lust and love are not the same thing.”

“Have you ever wanted a woman more?”

Rex did not bother trying to lie to his cousin. “No.”

“And aren’t you half killing yourself trying to free her from suspicion?”

“I suppose,” Rex murmured. “But there’s more to it than that, like solving the crime and finding Sir Nigel’s role in the embezzlement scheme.”

Daniel snorted, sending crumbs flying. “Could you live without her?”

“How should I know? Just make sure I won’t have to, damn it.” Rex changed the subject. “I suppose you’ve heard about Harry?”

“You can never have enough relatives, eh?”

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s great guns. We went back to Lydia Burton’s place last night for dinner, and to see if any of the girls heard anything.”

Daniel was not known for asking questions around willing women, or needing an excuse to visit a bordello. “I cannot believe Mrs. Burton let you in.”

“She and old Harry have been friends for ages, it seems. See how useful kin can be? The ladies didn’t know anything, but we had a grand time seeing who could tell the biggest clankers.”

“Whatever for?”

Daniel started on the second tart. Verity whined until he shared. “Testing our skills, I suppose.”

“A pissing contest, more like it. Who won?”

“Well, I’ll have a rash for another week”—Daniel adjusted his privates—“but old Harry cast up his accounts on Lydia’s new rug. I guess we won’t be going back there soon.” He and Verity both sighed, the dog because the food was gone. “We’re to go to some of the other brothels tonight.”

Rex decided to talk to Harry about leading Daniel astray, or following him. For now, he said, “Be careful, old chap. Even you are no match for an assassin’s bullet or a thrown knife. And I don’t fancy losing my new brother so soon, either. Look after him, will you?”

Daniel was laughing as he left.

Rex did not see the humor of his two kin out facing danger while he was stuck in bed, alone, so he decided to test his own strength by getting up.

Amanda found him on the floor, his disordered nightshirt leaving little to her imagination. “No, I am not hurt. No, I do not need a blasted footman to help me back into the bed, and no, you do not need to hide your giggles behind your hand. I missed that sound.”

Once he was back under the covers, Amanda stayed and read to him from he knew not what volume. He enjoyed hearing her voice, smelling the light floral scent she wore, watching her chest rise and fall, with the ruby pendant between her breasts. She did not wear her mother’s jewelry in public, naturally, she said, but she seldom left the house now, and then only to pick flowers in the garden or take Verity for a run in the park across the street. A footman attended her, she told him when she saw him frown. His father also did once, keeping to a slower pace, but looking at least ten years younger than when he had first arrived. “London, or the countess, appears to agree with him. He is a wonderful, gentle man. I can see why you both admire him so much.”

Rex did not admire the earl at all when he interrupted their conversation an hour later, the book long forgotten. He had come to take his turn sitting with his son, he said. Besides, Miss Carville had callers.

Rex told her to stay, especially if the callers were Ashway and his sister again. Amanda was undecided about going until the earl said, “We will manage, my dear. You can leave without worrying about either of us. You cannot keep a Royce down forever, you know.”

The earl watched her blush, and frowned at Rex. “Seems that’s not all you can’t keep down, eh?”

Amanda fled with her book and Rex’s dog. The earl watched her leave, then smiled at his son. “I like that girl. I’d be happy to call her daughter.”

Rex did not reply, showing a stony face at the overly personal comment. Besides, he had more than a few bones to pick with his sire.

Lord Royce pulled up the chair where Amanda had been sitting and settled into it. He sighed once, then said, “I suppose you are wishing I called Harry son.”

Then he tried to explain why he could not.

Other gentlemen accepted their illegitimate offspring into their homes, he said, but they were always considered less than family, less than acceptable in polite society. That was no way for a boy to grow up, knowing he was not good enough, that his little brother was the chosen one. “But Harry was my son, and I did love him. I would have had him closer, but your mother hated the idea. She was jealous of his mother at first, then jealous of him, thinking I might love him more than you. Her jealousy planted seeds of doubt in my own mind.”

Rex sat up against the pillows, pushing away the earl’s helping hands. He folded his arms across his chest and declared, “My mother is an honest woman.”

“Yes, but she was afraid of me, afraid of you. She loved you, I know, but she did not understand. She said she did not wish any more strange children. That was what she called you, strange. But you were beautiful, a joy, so I took her words to mean she did not want me in her bed. That was when I decided she must prefer some other man. Here I had this wondrous gift for the truth. How could I not use it by asking her?”

“You were a fool.”

The earl’s head sank to his chest. “I know. And your mother was rightfully insulted past bearing.”

“She was more honest than you, keeping my brother from me to hide your own past sins, even after she left us.”

“No, it was more than that, I swear. I thought I was actingfor Harry’s best interests, too, protecting him from the cruelty of his bastardy.”

Rex knew that for the truth, although misguided. Who was he to say what was right, what he would have done under the circumstances? He listened as his father went on, desperately trying to make him understand.

“Harry had to make his way in the world. I would have paid for him to live abroad, in India or the colonies. I offered him an allowance, or an estate somewhere, but he would not have it. He had our gift too, of course, and he wanted to use it for the good of the country. The same as you did when you reached manhood,” he reminded Rex, calling up memories of arguments about Rex joining the army.

“Harry chose to work in London, where he had been raised. My presence, or yours, would have ruined his chances and embarrassed your mother, dredging up old scandals and new gossip. Harry was doing brilliantly in his chosen career, on his own except for some inquiries and introductions I made for him. Your acknowledging him, coupled with my blighted reputation, could have destroyed the new identity he had, and after the Harrisons did such a fine job of rearing him.”

“Harrison? Harris? Major Harrison?” Rex got out of bed and did not fall down this time, his anger strong enough to keep him standing and the room from spinning. He gripped both sides of his father’s chair to make sure of his balance, and shouted, “My brother is the Aide? He knew who I was all these years? He put on those ridiculous disguises so I would not recognize him? I’ll kill him.”

The earl shook his head as if to rid himself of the discordant notes he heard. “That is a lie. You would do no such thing. And Harry constantly goes about incognito; he has too many enemies to do otherwise. Besides, he thought it a great joke. Now get back in bed or I shall call for your mother.”

Rex went back, but he was still fuming.

“You must know that Harry has been invaluable to the country. He has also assisted with my work on the coast, putting a stop to the smuggling of state secrets, keeping spies and English gold from traveling between us and France.”

“You?”

“And Marceau, of course. You know him as Murchison.”

“What, is he a relative, too?”

“No, but his entire family was wiped out by Napoleon and his supporters. We have broken up at least six smuggling rings in the past few years and captured many more spies. What did you think we were doing so close to the coast, if not aiding the war effort?”

Rex had thought his father was moping, in fact, withering into old age. “And you did not tell me? Let me help?”

“You were at university and too young to let you get involved with such dangerous activities. Then you were in the army. Lately I was waiting for you to recover from your wounds, and from your malaise. I was hoping to retire from the spy business, let you and Harry keep England safe.”

“He is still a bastard.”

That was the truth. By both definitions.

A
fter the earl left, Rex thought about trying to get up again, so he’d be ready to wrestle with his half brother. Maybe tomorrow, he decided when his head started to pound again. No, that was Amanda, tapping softly on his door.

Her cheeks were pale and her lower lip was between her teeth again, not good signs, Rex decided. She asked if she might bring her company to speak with Rex.

Not if it was Ashway, Rex thought. Did that nodcock come to ask his permission to pay his addresses to Amanda? Rex was her guardian, more or less, but he’d be damned before he gave her hand or any part of her to another man, especially one who did not appreciate what a gem she was in herself.