Page 114 of Enemies with an Earl
Felix rolled his bottom lip in and caught it between his teeth. The man looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His face had gone nearly colorless, and his chest wasn’t rising and falling.
“Sam? Breathe. What’s wrong?”
Sam sucked in a breath and jumped up, his chair toppling backward. “Do you have a copy of Debrett’s handy?” he asked, his voice strangled.
“Yes…” Felix pointed toward his floor to ceiling bookcases on the far-right wall. “Top shelf, middle bookcase.”
Sam nodded. And nodded.
“Sam…”
“Right.” He snapped to attention and went to the bookcase. His fingers skimmed the tomes and then he was pulling the book off the shelf and striding back to Felix’s desk. He threw down the book, its loudthudechoing through the chamber.
“Look them up. The family.”
All right… This was becoming more and more odd. But Felix did as he was told. He found the family and studied the page. There was a listing for the eldest brother who had succeeded his father to the viscountcy. This edition must have come out just before the man had passed. And then it listed—yes, two brothers, the one who had just passed andthe Hon. Sampson Trenton. A third brother.
“So, there is a third brother. Or at least, was. Deaths of younger sons wouldn’t be included.”
Sam’s features tightened in a grimace. Then he dropped his head in his hands and let out a hoarse shout.
Felix’s eyes shot wide, and he was up and around his desk in the next heartbeat. “Sam. What is going on?” Felix gently tugged at Sam’s hands until he dropped them away from his face. “What has you all out of sorts?” His heart drummed against his breastbone in an erratic thrum. He’d never seen Sam like this before. Sam was always so steady, so sure.
“You don’t know the family’s history? Not at all?” Sam asked weakly.
Felix shook his head. “But you do, I take it?”
Sam’s gaze turned hard, the dark loathing so palpable Felix flinched.
“Their third son was convicted of sodomy,” he said, his voice emotionless. “Four-and-twenty years ago.”
Felix’s skin prickled, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. Felix would have only been nine or ten at the time, so he hadn’t heard anything of it. And knowing his mother, she would have never let him find out to protect his peace of mind.
He did know it was fairly rare for a person of wealth and status to be convicted. Money exchanged hands and things would vanish, as Father had done for Felix. Hell, Bishop of Ferns, the son of the Earl of Roden, had been accused of buggery a few years back. He’d managed to make the whole thing disappear, simply because people of rank testified for his good character and his aristocratic background. The scandal barely made a ripple, and he remained a serving bishop even now.
So, for a nobleman to actually be convicted… His family would have had to want it. To be the ones who turned him in…
Felix’s jaw went slack. No. Absolutely not. The man before him was Samuel Thorne. Not… What was the man’s name? Sampson Trenton.Oh, God.
“Sam?” he croaked out.
“He was convicted,” Sam said tightly. “But he didn’t hang. He’s very much still alive.”
Felix’s heart rate took off, an overwhelming buzzing building in his ears and drowning out all sound.
“Standing in this very study.”
Oh my God.
“Oh my God.” His squeaky tone broke through the buzzing in his brain. “Oh myfuckingGod.” He stared at Sam, thoughts stumbling over themselves as way too much information for a person to process was just thrown at him. “You’re—You—You’re not you. You’re him. I thought you were possibly nobility. But perhaps a cousin.” He laughed deliriously. “A third son, perhaps,I had thought. And would you fucking look at that! You are. Were. You’re a bloodyearl. Fucking hell!”
He took up pacing. Dear Lord. This was… This wasbig.Huge. A calamity worthy of a Greek tragedy. He glanced at Sam and stumbled to an abrupt halt at the pain etched on the man’s face. His brows were pinched, features twisted as he watched Felix, dark apprehension swirling in his stormy eyes.
“Do you hate me?” Sam asked hoarsely.
What?He stormed up to Sam and poked him in the chest. Hard. “What? Do I bloody hate you? Why the fuck would I hate you?”
“Because I lied to you. I didn’t tell you who I was.”
