“Yes.” Thomas’s face was lined with troubles. “Her scandal. If I had any bloody money at all, I could fix some of that. But if my father destroyed your lives in one day, he decided to decimate mine in tiny strokes. I’ve been digging out of his messes for years. And I’m…helpless.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nicholas said, and meant it.

  Thomas shrugged. “Nothing you can do. I must work it out myself. But I am left with a question because I saw my sister yesterday, and when she said your name I saw what I was blind to all those years ago. You spending time together at Roseford’s reconnected you. I can see how she shines the moment you come up as a topic. So what are you planning to do?”

  “I could protect her better if I were marquess.”

  He expected this man who had been groomed and readied for a title all his life to immediately agree to that notion. But instead Thomas’s face fell a fraction. “Hmmm,” he murmured, noncommittal.

  “What does hmmm mean?” Nicholas asked.

  But before his friend could answer, the door to the study opened and Bertrand Gillingham entered. Nicholas pushed to his feet and faced him. His father still had a straight-as-a-ramrod posture and a serious countenance. But his eyes were kind when they flitted over Nicholas and for a moment reflected joy at seeing his boy.

  “Am I interrupting?” his father asked.

  Thomas shot Nicholas a side glance. “Not at all, Gillingham. I think your son and I were at an impasse. And I know you are anxious to see each other. I’ll step out for a moment and let you speak. But my mother’s invitation stands, Nicholas—we’d love to have you join us for supper. It will almost be like old times.”

  He clapped a hand on Nicholas’s arm and smiled at Gillingham before he left the two alone together. His father’s hand fluttered at his side, like he wanted to touch him but didn’t. Then he moved forward and began fiddling with the items on the earl’s desk, organizing them. Of course he would. He was still Thomas’s man of affairs. Old habits died hard, it seemed.

  At last he glanced up. “You look well, better than I’ve seen you since—”

  His father cut off. He never spoke to Nicholas about the injuries that had nearly killed him. Not even when he came to his bedside over and over as Nicholas fought to live, Gillingham had only read to him then and spoke to him of old stories from his childhood. Of his mother, of Thomas, even of Aurora. Never that horrible day of fire and pain.

  “Thank you,” Nicholas said. “The country air, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps,” Gillingham said, his gaze coming up from the papers on the desktop briefly. “How were things with your brothers and your sister?”

  Now Nicholas shifted, discomfort flooding him. This man had raised him, sacrificed for him, with never a whisper that Nicholas didn’t belong to him. Any time Nicholas spoke of his other family, it felt like a betrayal.

  “They are well,” he said. “All happily married in the last few years. It has changed them, I think, and for the better.”

  “Love will do that,” Gillingham said with a slight smile. “And now you are back in Town. I hear word you’ll be taking some very important meetings in the next few weeks. About the marquess matter.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Yes…that’s the plan. Little steps closer all the time, though who knows when they’ll make their final decision. A month, a year…it could be anything.”

  Now his father stopped fiddling with the desk entirely and came around closer to Nicholas. He tilted his head, his gaze taking Nicholas in from head to toe. “You’re troubled by that.”

  “I suppose I am,” he admitted, thinking of Aurora. “More now than before.”

  “But you’ve always known this process would be drawn out. That you’d have to jump through a dozen hoops and impress a dozen silly men. And yet it bothers you now.”

  Nicholas was pulled back to when he was eight years old, twelve years old, sixteen years old and his father had offered calm counsel. That had been one of the greatest comforts of his life, knowing if he turned toward this man, he would always be welcomed with open arms and a kind ear. He didn’t always like the advice, he hadn’t always followed it…but it was there, a forever beacon that helped him to the shore.

  “Nicholas, my boy, you still want to be marquess, don’t you?”

  There was the question. Simply asked. The answer was becoming far less simple.

  He sighed. “I-I’m not sure anymore, Father.”

  Gillingham motioned to the two chairs before Thomas’s roaring fire. They took them together, and his father draped his elbows over his knees, completely engaged with Nicholas in that moment. “Tell me.”

  “I’ve lived my life on the outer edges of two worlds,” Nicholas said. “It’s always been true, but I’ve never felt it more than recently.”

  “Roseford and his friends made you feel on the outside?” his father asked, and sounded surprised at the idea. “The new duke seems to be making such an effort lately.”

  “No,” Nicholas said with a quick shake of his head. “Roseford is nothing like our…his father. He wasn’t unwelcoming, I assure you. Oh, how do I explain it?”

  “Take your time,” Gillingham said gently.

  Nicholas leaned back in his chair a moment, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to gather the swirling thoughts that had been tormenting him since the moment he saw Aurora step from her carriage and onto his brother’s drive. That moment had changed everything, even if he hadn’t wanted to see it.

  “Men like Robert, like his friend Northfield, men like Thomas…they’ve always known their destiny. It was pressed into their flesh from birth what they would be. They were practically trained from the cradle. You know, you’ve served men like that your whole life.”

  His father nodded. “Yes. That is a blessing and a curse, you know. To always know your path, to never be able to choose it.”

  “Of course. I’ve seen the damage it does,” Nicholas agreed. “But being with these men who have always known their path, I also came to realize that I won’t ever be fully on the inside. I’ll always be what I always was, Father. Half-blood, half accepted, half in one world, half in the other.”

  “You fear you won’t belong?” Gillingham said.

  “I won’t belong as marquess,” Nicholas said. “But when I was at Roseford with my brothers and my sisters, their spouses and their friends and…and Aurora…I did feel like I belonged. For the first time I was just me and that was enough.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

  His father leaned even closer and his gaze locked with Nicholas’s. “Sorry? Why are you sorry, my boy?”

  “Because it’s a betrayal of you. It’s a betrayal of the fact that you raised me, that you treated me like your son when you never had to do that.”

  Gillingham’s face softened, and he reached out and squeezed Nicholas’s hand. It was a surprising gesture, as his father had never been overly physically affectionate. His love was always shown in other ways. But now it was like all his strength poured into Nicholas.

  “You must never be sorry about who you are,” his father said softly. “I treated you like a son because you are my son. In every way that has ever mattered, you are mine. But you are also their brother. The fact that you’ve all found each other in the last few years warms my heart. Those two worlds never had to be separate. It was never a betrayal of me to want to connect to them.”

  Nicholas stared at him, this man who had raised him, nurtured him, loved him. “You’re saying I don’t have to be one world or another.”

  “No,” his father said. “If they are intelligent enough to accept you as you are, then you have always belonged in both. Always. Title or no title.”

  A strange weight lifted from Nicholas’s shoulders at those words. “Perhaps,” he said softly.

  His father let go of his hand and smiled. “And as for Lady Lovell…Aurora…”

  Nicholas held his breath. Gillingham had disapproved of their connection when he was younger. He had feared the very reprisal that had ultimately come.

  But now he smiled. “I have always liked her. And I am far too old and you have lived through far too much for me to tell you what to do with your heart. Except to be happy.”

  Nicholas reached out, touching that face that looked nothing like his own, but was still so very beloved. His father in every way that had ever and would ever matter.

  “Thank you, Papa,” he said softly.

  Gillingham gave a half smile at the endearment Nicholas hadn’t used since he was fifteen. The old man’s eyes were sparkling with tears. The same ones stinging Nicholas’s eyes as he dropped his hand away.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Gillingham said with a choked chuckle. “Are you joining us for supper, then? I’ve heard on good authority that Mrs. Bright is making lamb.”

  Nicholas grinned as his father offered him an arm for support as he stood. “There is nothing quite so good as her lamb.”

  He followed his father from the room, his mind more at peace, but with no further answers than he’d had when he entered. In fact, he only questioned everything all the more.

  Chapter 19

  Aurora paced the floor in her small parlor, the latest letter from Imogen dangling from her fingertips. She had already reached out to everyone involved to meet with her and give them the final information, and now she tried to remain calm as she did so.

  There was a light knock on her door and Jeanette poked her head in. “The carriages are arriving, my lady.”

  Aurora’s heart leapt and she moved to the window. Indeed, there were a handful of vehicles turning in, her one poor footman rushing out to help people out. “Good,” she said. “Send them in right away.”

  She moved to the sideboard where tea was already waiting and began to arrange cups in case her guests wanted refreshment. They began to enter the room. Mr. Barber, Selina and Derrick Huntington all came in together. The Duke and Duchess of Willowby were on their heels. Greetings were exchanged and then Aurora smoothed her hands along her skirts.

  “Thank you for coming. I really do appreciate your help in this terrible matter. Let me tell you what Imogen’s latest letter said and the final details for our meeting later today.”

  Selina stepped forward with a shake of her head. “Shouldn’t we wait until we’re all here? Nicholas didn’t come with any of us.”

  Aurora’s breath caught. She’d known someone in their group might be so direct. She might have guessed it would be Selina. She met the other woman’s bright blue eyes and said, “I didn’t send word to Nicholas,” she said softly. “I know he would help me. I know he wants to…but…”

  “But?” Huntington encouraged her as he rested a hand on his wife’s back. Selina’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction with the action.

  The heat that filled Aurora’s cheeks was instant and burning hot. Here were her sins and her secrets, all laid out for the world to see. Perhaps that was the penance for them. She glanced at the Willowbys and Mr. Barber apologetically, though they didn’t look vexed by this veering off topic.

  “Nicholas deserves to receive his title,” she said at last, though her breath felt so short as she said the words. “I refuse to destroy his chances by involving him in this any more than he already has been. So I didn’t contact him.”

  Selina’s expression softened. “I see.”

  It was such a noncommittal tone to those two words. Aurora had no idea if his sister approved or disapproved those actions. She smoothed her skirts. “Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand, at any rate. Imogen’s letter says that she wishes to meet with me at Fitzhugh’s Club.”

  At that, Selina took a long step back. “F-Fitzhugh’s?” she repeated.

  Aurora nodded. “Yes. It seems the man who has been sheltering her is the owner of the club and he has offered to close his club for a few hours so we can meet. Why? Why are you so pale at the mention of that that name?”

  Selina shook her head and she looked at Derrick for…what seemed to be support. That response only made Aurora’s heart race faster.

  “Selina,” Derrick said softly. “What makes you act this way at the mention of Oscar Fitzhugh?”

  “He’s…he’s another of the Bastards,” Selina whispered. “Another half-brother. He never interacts with any of us. He’s rebuffed all connection.”

  Aurora’s mouth dropped open. “Great God. But…do you know what kind of man he is?”

  “A rogue. But in a different way than the rest of us,” Selina said.

  “Oh no!” Aurora gasped. “My poor Imogen.”

  “No, no,” Selina said. “I don’t mean he’s bad. I’ve heard he’s…decent. Too decent for the likes of Roseford’s children.”

  Derrick put a gentle arm around her and glanced at Aurora. “I’ve never heard a cross word about the man. I would not assume Imogen is in danger from him, at any rate.”

  That news relaxed Aurora a fraction, though the coincidence of this man’s relationship to Nicholas and his family made her head spin. “How many children did the last Roseford sire?”

  At that Selina gave a pained chuckle. “That is an answer I could only give over a great deal of whisky, my dear.”

  Aurora forced herself to refocus on Imogen. “She only wanted to see me, and I suppose I’m not being much of a friend by bringing you all along. But I fear so desperately for her.”

  The Duke of Willowby stepped forward. “You’re doing the right thing, I promise you. What time are we to meet them?”

  “Three this afternoon,” she said, and glanced at the clock on her mantel. “Almost exactly three hours from now.”

  Selina nodded. “Then Derrick and I will come for you at two,” she said. “That will give us time to prepare and get there.”

  Aurora let out her breath. “It would comfort me not to be alone on the journey. I’m so nervous to see her, so afraid I won’t be able to help her.”

  To her surprise, Selina crossed to her and tugged her into a tight hug. “We will resolve this. And she is very lucky to have such a good friend as you, Aurora.”

  Aurora found herself drooping against the other woman for a moment as all the strain of the past weeks hit her all at once. Selina bore her up for a moment, whispering gentle words of encouragement until Aurora straightened.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Selina patted her hand and went back to her husband. “We all have much to do. I say we go do it.”

  Willowby exchanged a grin with his wife and then saluted Selina. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll see you later this afternoon, Lady Lovell.”

  They all departed then, talking as a group, making whatever secondary plans they had. And for the first time since Imogen had disappeared, Aurora didn’t feel helpless. When it came to Nicholas it was different, but at least with Imogen, she might finally resolve this and help the woman she loved as a sister.

  If she could do that, perhaps she would ultimately feel that the future could be positive. That everything could work out. Perhaps she could finally see how she could be with Nicholas in the end, even if it meant waiting a little longer.

  Nicholas was at his desk in his study looking at his schedule for the next week. Several missives had arrived that afternoon, invitations for meetings with influential people and men connected to the Prince. The next step in moving toward becoming a marquess.

  Even as he tried to manage all the correspondence, all he could think about was the conversation the previous day with his father. All he could think about were the questions in his mind when it came to taking this path that had once seemed so clear.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, pushing the lot of them aside just as there was a knock on his door. “Enter.”

  The door opened to reveal his butler, Evans. The two had served in the war together and the man was not a typical butler. His shock of red hair, the patch over one eye and the scar that crisscrossed his face made him look more pirate than proper.

  At the moment he looked vexed, but as he drew a breath to speak, Selina elbowed her way past him into the room. “Might as well not even give him the option to pretend he isn’t in residence,” she said.

  Nicholas laughed and shook his head as he rose. “It’s all right, Evans. She is an unstoppable force.”

  Evans gave her a look. “Hate to see what will happen if she comes upon an immovable object.” With that, he backed from the room and shut the door behind himself.

  Selina laughed. “I always like his impertinence,” she said. “And of course the answer is that I married the immovable object.” She moved forward and pressed a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek. “You look tired.”

  “Thank you?” Nicholas said. “I assume you don’t want tea, but something stronger.”

  “It’s one in the afternoon,” she said. “But yes, a little stronger. But not much, I need my head. And so will you very shortly.”

  He wrinkled his brow as he poured her a drink. “Why is that? And where is Derrick?”

  “Normally he would accompany me when I called on you,” Selina admitted as she slugged back half her drink without so much as a cough. “But he doesn’t know I came. You know him. He would tell me not to meddle and what fun would that be?”

  The good humor Nicholas had felt when she entered bled away in an instant. “Not to meddle. What exactly are you not meddling in?”

  “Do you know that Aurora called us all to her house an hour or so ago?” she asked, arching one of those fine brows.

  He stared at her. “All of who?”

  “Derrick, me, Barber, the Willowbys. Everyone involved in this investigation into her friend…except you. And I suppose Robert and Katherine, though I think they were really only involved insofar as the introductions.” Selina quickly explained everything that had happened at the meeting, including the revelation that their half-brother Oscar Fitzhugh was the man who had been sheltering Imogen.

  “God, I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Nicholas mused. “Years.”

 

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