The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Five

Weston and Richard watched with hidden smirks, sneaking glances over at Lady Harriet. She sat on a sofa, stitching designs for small pillows into place, her focus never diverting.

"I see your brother is enjoying himself," came the whisper.

"Too much," retorted Richard, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised he has not fallen over himself with the intensity with which he stares at the poor girl."

"Harriet doesn't even notice. Let the poor boy ogle all he wants."

"My brother is a fiend. Best not to encourage this or you'll have a very big problem on your hands in the future."

"I trust Beau and Harriet will not do anything the ton does not ask of them."

"Ah yes, because the ton is a good measure of societal standards," Richard said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I do know, and I know that I do not trust anyone with a—"

"There is a lady present, I am sure you are aware?" came Lady Harriet's pleasant voice.

The heads of the two men swivelled around. She continued to stitch as if she hadn't spoken but Richard knew better. He swept a hand in her direction. "Now do you believe me when I say your sister is not as innocent as you would like to believe?"

Weston turned pink. "Harriet," he called, "might you have some manners to not eavesdrop?"

"Is it truly my fault you chose to speak about me so close by?"

"She does have a point," added Beau.

Richard rubbed his forehead. "Of course, you would not say a word against her. Come, Weston, let us indulge in our conversations away from eavesdroppers."

They headed toward the parlour for some drinks. "However is it going with the Duke? Mama received news of his condition just this morning and to say father was a mess was an understatement."

Richard resigned with a sigh. Torrid emotions gushed through him, guilt and fear struck his bones hard. "Dr. Luis says he will be well, though I fear we are in for a startling reality as the days go by."

"Caldwell, don't frighten. The Duke is amongst the many who can fight whatever it is that is thrown his way. Your father is incredible. Believe in him and the word of science."

He did not know how long he could before that hope, that belief, wore away. It was etched across his mother's face but God only knew if it was a facade. His chest rattled as he breathed in, endeavouring to be as composed as he could in front of one of his childhood friends.

He was still alive, that was certain as he was able to drink water and swallow whatever was put in his mouth, but he did not once open his eyes or move. Why was he not moving? He wanted to scream.

"You couldn't be more right, Weston," he said gleefully, though his words were as empty as the smile he forced. "One could use a little more of your positivity."

"My positivity? You exude positivity enough for the three of us."

"Davenport would positively murder you for using that word in the same sentence as him."

Weston rounded the dark mahogany bar table and poured him a glass of bourbon. "Why is it that you are truly here? I know it's not to have your brother ogle my sister."

"You aren't daft. Mother would like Lord and Lady Blackwood to visit."

"To see the Duke?"

"I do believe so. That and preferably to chat. She has been rather lonely for a while even with father alive and well. The matters of the estate took up much of his time."