Page 7 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“You have something in mind, don’t you?” Over the rim of his teacup, Robert’s clear eyes regarded his half-brother.
“Yes. Possibly. But I need to be sure of my facts first. And I need time to think.”
“It will do you good,” ventured Robert. “Having a project. You know, Lando, you can’t spend the rest of your…”
“Yes. Precisely.”
The exact moment that Lando’s profound grief merged with ennui had passed unnoticed. But admitting, even to Robert, that his days smelled of boredom and he craved distraction from it was tantamount to acknowledging that a part of himself buried along with his lover was stirring again. And putting that into words felt like an enormous leap. So, he stayed quiet and took another mouthful of cake whilst pretending he had nothing else to add, and Robert went along with it.
“While you are at it, Robert,” he added carelessly, as if it mattered not, leading Robert to understand it must matter a great deal. “See if you can unearth anything about a young man going by the name of Mr Christopher Angel. He hails from London; he purports to be Charles’s nephew. I don’t trust him.”
“Describe him.”
Hungry. Determined. Roguish.
“Tall.” Lando demonstrated with his hands. “Around this much taller than me, and broad. Muscular even. Perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three. A gentleman, perhaps once upon a time, but down at heel. And of dark complexion, with hair reaching his shoulders. In his left ear, he sports a ridiculous gold earring, like a pirate. Clean shaven, and he has unblemished skin.”
Robert’s lips twitched. “Unblemished skin, eh?”
“And what of it?” Lando glared. “As opposed to pockmarked or scarred.”
An image of his handsome visitor as he squared up to Lando filled his mind. “I had the misfortune to study it at unexpectedly close quarters.”
“And his eyes? I don’t suppose you remembered the colour of those?”
“Hazel. Autumnal.”
Robert chuckled. “Autumnal? How poetic. Autumnal eyes and unblemished skin. Dark, broad. Why, it sounds almost as…”
“You did ask. I’m very observant, as you know.”
A smile replaced the sceptical raised eyebrow. “Just remind me which of my children led Twilight to the stables?”
Gadzooks. “Your young Jack,” hazarded Lando. Didn’t every country family have a Jack amongst its brood?
Robert laughed. “Harriet. But good try. Lando, it’s about time I pointed out to you that admiring a living person is not the same as stamping on precious memories of a dead one.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“The man is Charles’s nephew. He…he suggested that he knew him well.” His appetite for cake suddenly diminished, Lando flopped back in the chair. “I…I am nervous of… I have questions for him, Robert. So many questions. He knew Charles well! He saw him during his final illness when I could not. I had to pretend the man was nothing but a moderate friend when he was my…he was my everything.”
Was. Now, Lando’s everything was the seamless running of his estate, meeting his man of business, discussing barley, having tea with Robert. And raking over old memories, shuffling through them like a deck of playing cards, the faces fading with every fresh hand.
“And yet you don’t trust him.”
Pure anguish pierced Lando’s soul. “No. I don’t. I’m fearful he’s going to try to use that knowledge against me if I don’t assist him in bringing down Gartside.”
“You are above reproach, Lando. And if he tries, then he’ll bring down his own name too. And that of his sister.”
“Hers, I fear, is lost already.”
Robert examined the teacup in his rough farmer’s hand. “Of course, you could always join him. Keep thy enemies close and all that. You never know—you might have an adventure along the way.”
“I’m no adventurer. You know that. I’ve barely left the estate these past three years.”
“Then maybe this is just the prompt you need.”
