Page 21 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
‘I dispatched no one across the ocean. Why should I have done so? You were already gone. Drowned in the Thames.’
Such a confession sat congealing in the thick air of the chamber, a truth that held nothing in it save betrayal.
‘Get your things and leave. You have my permission to use the Bromley carriage to take what you can carry away from here, but after this there will be nothing.’
Nick was furious and shocked, the numbness of his uncle’s treachery creeping into coldness.
‘Nothing? Nothing?’ Bartlett stood now and bellowed the two words.
‘Less than nothing if you argue.’ His reply was quiet. ‘You have half an hour. After that I will have my servants throw you out.’
‘You cannot do that, for God’s sake. Your father wished for me to be a figure in your life...’
‘A cantankerous, avaricious greedy bastard is not what I imagine he had in mind and I owe you less than nothing. You are dead to me. A man who could have chosen a better path, but didn’t.’ He pointedly looked at his timepiece. ‘Twenty-nine minutes now.’
At that Nick turned, ignoring the run of insults that followed him to the door as he shut it behind him and took in a breath. It was over. Aaron Bartlett was out of his life.
* * *
Exactly half an hour later his uncle stood before him, hastily dressed and furious.
‘This is not the end of this, mark my words. There will be legalities to deal with and the fact that you were all but dead for so many years—’
Nicholas had had enough of his threats and, grabbing him by his shirt front, he hauled his uncle off his feet.
‘If you ever darken my door again, I won’t be as kind as I have been this time, do you understand? My advice would be to leave England before any creditors know you have gone, for this way you have a chance of leaving the country alive. If you stay, I will find you and deal with you as you dealt with me.’
‘You were out of control and reckless...’
‘Enough.’
This time Bartlett blanched white and was silent and Nick, releasing his hold, allowed the butler to show Bartlett out. A few moments later Nick heard the movement of the carriage and the call of the driver.
Gone.
He thought back to all the moments he had hated his uncle and felt no remorse at all. His guardian was a heart-dead greedy sycophant, but worse than that he was immoral. He still held the thin scars on his arms where he’d been whipped time after time as a child when he had refused direction.
The grave of the family dog his guardian had had shot was marked in the woods by all the shale and stones that Nicholas himself had buried him under, each one drenched in tears.
His uncle had made him into a young man of wildness and anger, the responsibilities of love and family lost under greed.
‘Could I pour you a drink, Lord Bromley? There are some fine reds from your father’s collection that we managed to hide.’
Ramsey looked both worried and relieved. ‘We have been waiting for your return, you see, my lord, for the reappearance of a master who was not...so immoral, I mean. Mrs Ramsey has ham and fresh bread in the kitchens should you wish for it and the chutney this year was particularly tasty.’
‘Thank you.’ When Nick looked at him closely there were tears in the old butler’s eyes. ‘I would like that.’
* * *
Ten minutes later he was sitting in front of a roaring fire in the large kitchen, the fare of the county on the table before him and an uncorked bottle of his father’s burgundy.
A row of servants stood behind him, some known and some new. All looked tense and uncertain.
‘Find another few more glasses, Ramsey, and we will all partake in a toast.’
He had never once in his years at Bromworth Manor spoken so familiarly to the staff and he had never before been in this room, the very heart of the place.
He was once again lord of Bromworth Manor and lord of these lands, but there had been a shift inside him. He felt more comfortable with these people than he did with the gossiping aristocrats of theton. He felt at home here, a belonging, a place to put down roots and stay.
