Page 73 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Wakefield found himself tugging at his cravat. “I meant with the exception of the reason for my visit.” There, that was a nice recovery.
“Oh, he’s still up to his mischievous ways, but he remains a deeply devoted and loving older brother just like you.” Katherine beamed at him. “Here we are,” Katherine murmured when they reached the great parlor.
Bainbridge stood at the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his broad back, but for the addition of a few laugh lines that creased the corners of his brow and eyes, the gentleman looked as young as he had when he had first become part of the Adamson family. He also looked just as stern. In fact, if it weren’t for those crinkles, one would doubt whether the fellow was, in fact, capable of a smile.
“Frost, on your feet like a gentleman. Greet your uncle.”
The young man, slouched in his seat with his legs widespread and his long dark hair hanging about his sharp-planed cheeks, came reluctantly to his feet.
Ah, the defiant stage. Wakefield remembered that all too well, only because his sisters had both gone through it, not Wakefield.
Not me. I’m about a decade late and dealing with the ramifications now.
Katherine hurried to join her husband and son at the center of the room.
“Wakefield, old chap,” Frost greeted.
Katherine let an elbow fly, catching her son in the arm. “That is your uncle,” she whispered loud enough to be heard by all the room’s occupants.
“Yes, and he’s Lord Wakefield. A fellow doesn’t call another fellow by his given—”
Katherine stopped the rest of that argument with another sharp jab.
While the lad’s mother gave him a quiet lecture, Wakefield shared a glance with his godson.
“And, for that matter, you need to bow to your uncle,” Katherine finished her lecture.
“You see,” Frost drawled, “this is what confuses me. Is he my uncle or is he some other nobleman to greet? Because if he’s family—”
“You still bow to family,” the beleaguered mother interrupted.
“Ah, I get it. Thank you, Mother.”
Katherine had always been too clever. She narrowed her eyes on her son. “What exactly is it you think you’d get, Frost?” There existed a warning in her tone.
“It’s just how could I forget? You are forever curtsying to Father, and Father is forever bowing to you.”
“No, we do not.” Katherine caught herself, but it was too late.
Frost smirked. Oh, yes. Katherine and Bainbridge had their hands full for sure.
Suddenly, Katherine’s expression grew stricken. “Father,” she whispered. She lifted wounded eyes to her beloved husband. “Since when did he begin referring to you by Father? You’ve always been Papa.”
“Is this what you brought Uncle Benedict over for?” Frost asked dryly. “To speak about the fact that I am a grown man, but that I should continue to refer to my parents as Mama and Papa.”
“We are always going to be your mama and papa,” Katherine cried out.
Before she grew into any more of an emotional temper, the duke rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He leaned down and whispered something into his wife’s ear. All her upset vanished in an instant. The couple shared an entirely too long and tender kiss.
Frost jumped away like he’d been caught in the midst of a fire. “For the love of God, would you two stop?”
“Well, you might not feel the same way as us about us being your mama and papa, but your father and I continue to carry the same love for one another.” With that, the couple again kissed.
Wakefield hid a smile. As his nephew jumped even farther out of the way and slapped his hands over his eyes, he made loud, nonsensical murmurings. The boy was young still. He had a lot to learn about letting other people get the best of him. Wakefield had begun to have an idea just why his services had been enlisted.
“Might I suggest we all sit and have a discussion?” Wakefield rescued his nephew from further trauma of his parents’ loving affection for one another.
Frost looked at him all too gratefully. He favored the young man with a wink. Katherine was the first to sit.
