“How are you, Nicholas my dear?”
Nicholas sighed. He didn’t want to tell them, as all he had were complaints and general discontent to share. Grandfather, Lord Lockwood, had insisted that Nicholas attend Lady Cobham’s ball, and not Lady Amerhurst's with the family, since Lady Cobham’s was more exclusive, and he had a higher chance of finding what Grandfather deemed “a suitable match.” He longed to complain to his mother, but he didn’t want to spoil everyone’s mood. He touched his scar, feeling a pain there. When he was tense it ached.
“I’m well, Mama,” he said softly.
“Good, son,” she murmured.
“I say, Nicholas! Any chance of accompanying me on a ride?” Henry asked.
Nicholas tilted his head, listening to how Henry described a ride to the nearby estate of a friend and fellow investor. The man lived close to London, about two miles out of the city, and the ride sounded rather diverting to Nicholas, but he knew he wouldn’t have much time—Grandfather was doubtless enrolling him in a dozen dances and salons to attend.
“I’m not certain I’ll be able to go riding this week,” he told Henry carefully. He saw his mother studying him and he felt oddly relieved. She clearly knew something was bothering him.
When Henry and his sisters had eaten breakfast and his sisters were ensconced in the drawing-room, his mother came over to stand by the window with Nicholas.
“I can see something weighs on your mind, son,” she said gently.
Nicholas sighed. He knew there was no good to be had in hiding things from his mother. She already guessed something was wrong, and if he didn’t tell her, she’d make guesses until she figured out the truth anyway. “It’s Grandfather, Mama,” he said softly.
His mother inclined her head. “I know. He has always been a strong character.” She sighed. “He was hard on your father...not letting him have his own mind on anything.”
Nicholas nodded. “I imagine,” he said quietly. His heart ached as, without warning, an image of his father slipped into his mind. He recalled a sharp, bright face with an angular chin and dark eyes. His father had brown hair and his eyes were brown too and his smile had lit the world. A riding-accident had been so typical, in some ways—Father had loved life, and tried to fill up every day with work and play and family.
I wish you were here.
He bit his lip. His father had been a strong, fun, bright presence in his life and when he passed on, Nicholas’ life had been made so much darker. His father had been one of the few people he could confide in and who understood everything about him, including his shame about his scar. Father had always said it meant nothing, that most people would look past it and that hecould be grateful, because the scar sorted the good from the bad just by their reaction to it.
He gazed at his mother. She inclined her head, seeming to guess his thoughts.
“I know. He was a great man. But you have some similarities to Lucas, you know.”
Nicholas shook his head. His father was unlike everyone, especially unlike himself. “I am not like him, Mama.”
“You’re as stubborn,” she said with a chuckle.
Nicholas grinned. “Nobody, Mama—nobody in this world—is as stubborn as Papa was.”
His mother laughed. “You’re right, son.”
Nicholas smiled at her and linked his arm through hers as they went through to the drawing room to join his sisters.
“I must return home,” he said gently as his mother settled on the chaise-longue. “I assured Grandfather that I would be back to meet about the accounts.”
“You can stay a bit longer,” Clarissa said insistently.
“At least play cards with us,” Marcia pleaded.
“I’d love to, sisters,” Nicholas said gently. “But I must get back. Grandfather is disagreeable sometimes, and I don’t want him to be irritable.”
“No! Grandfather can be horridly irritable.”
Nicholas laughed. Clarissa was right. He bowed to Mama. “I must excuse myself.”
“I will see you soon, son,” she murmured softly.
Nicholas hugged his sisters, kissed his mother on the cheek and hurried downstairs. His coat and hat were wet, and he shivered as he drew the coat on, then went to wait for the coach.
They sped through the streets, which were much less crowded at that time, and arrived at Lockwood House promptly at eleven o' clock.
