Chapter Twenty-Six

Father was in a rare taking. He summoned James to the library the morning after the disastrous picnic. Only the obvious tension in Father’s jaw belied his composed demeanor. James remained standing as he waited for the lecture. He knew precisely what Father would say and did not intend to drag out the interview.

“I understand Miss Lancaster left in quite a hurry yesterday,” Father said.

“She and her sister chose to return to their London residence before the picnic began.”

Father’s gaze narrowed. “When do you intend to call on her again?”

“I do not, Father.” James borrowed a page from Father’s book, keeping his own expression confident and unruffled. “It seems we would not suit after all.”

“You have ended your courtship?” Father gave him the look that always indicated his doubt in James’s intelligence.

“No.”

The slightest hint of relief entered Father’s expression.

James kept his tone bland. “She ended the courtship. Quite unequivocally, in fact.”

Father’s gaze hardened. “What have you done?”

A question James had asked himself multiple times. He would not allow his father to see how upset he truly was over the previous day’s events. “It seems you underestimated Miss Lancaster’s intelligence—we both did. She discovered the true nature of this courtship and decided she deserved better.”

Father remained silent, his expression frozen in a look of contemplation. He, no doubt, was composing some new plan or another. He would suggest a new strategy, an attempt to convince Daphne to trust him again. James wanted no part of it.

He spoke before his father could. “My conduct these past weeks does not bear scrutiny. I look back on the decisions I have made and the course I have taken, and I am—” He pushed out a tense breath. His self-evaluation had not been pleasant. “I am entirely ashamed of myself.”

“Ashamed?” Father’s scoffing tone left little doubt as to the state of his conscience.

“I acted dishonorably. Though the duke was the one to suggest the possibility of a courtship between Miss Lancaster and I, he would never have approved of me doing so insincerely. He watched me with such suspicion that I am relatively certain he had begun to see through the masquerade. And I, for my own well-being, simply tried that much harder to be convincing. I misled him and the duchess by word and deed. And my deliberately deceptive courtship of Miss Lancaster was absolutely inexcusable.” James straightened his shoulders. “It is time I regained my hold on my own integrity.”

“You intend to simply let her walk away?” Tension entered Father’s tone. He so seldom allowed any emotion to color his words. James knew the interview would grow worse before he was permitted to leave.

“I intend to not impose upon her further.”

Father leaned forward, pressing his forearms against his desk and meeting James’s eyes with a look of warning. “You know the consequences of failure.”

“I think, Father, you and I define failure a little differently.”

Father didn’t so much as flinch. “You will no longer receive your income from the estate. Neither will your brother.”

“He is resilient.” James knew the loss would be a burden to Ben, and he would do all he could to help.

“That is rather coldhearted for you, Tilburn.” The comment was obviously meant as a mockery, an attempt to ruffle him.

“A trait, one could argue, I come by rightly.”

Father seemed to recognize the barb, though he did not acknowledge it. “Can you view your mother’s penury with so much indifference?”

“Not indifference, Father. Resignation. I know better than to expect you to act in a way that places any importance on the well-being of your family. I can do nothing to stop you from punishing any of us.”

Father shifted again. If James hadn’t spent a lifetime watching the man, he might have almost thought his father had grown uncomfortable. He knew better. Father was simply adjusting his attack.

“What of this family’s standing?” Father asked. “We will never be able to hold our heads up in Society again.”

“You know perfectly well that aborted courtships seldom reflect badly on the gentleman involved. This family stands at the mercy not of my actions but of Miss Lancaster’s and, more daunting still, the Duke of Kielder. His Grace could destroy us with a word. I doubt he would hesitate at all to do so. He is the one you ought to be bargaining with, not me. You two formulated the original agreement after all.”

Father paled noticeably. “The duke does not make bargains. Everyone knows that.”

“Then perhaps you should go begging, on your knees, for mercy. Though it is my understanding he isn’t overly fond of that either.”

“No. That won’t be necessary. I can fix this.” Father nodded repeatedly. “I can fix this.”

“How—?”

Father held a hand up to cut him off. “I can’t fix it for you. But I can make things right for me and for this title you do not deserve to inherit. I need not be brought down by your idiocy.”

James didn’t dare even guess what Father was planning now. “Good-bye, Father. Go save your precious standing. I have far more crucial things to worry about.” He turned on his heel and left the room, intending to put to rights the many things he’d done wrong of late. Refusing to allow Father to manipulate him into sacrificing his integrity once again was but one item on his list. Talking to Ben was another.

The butler approached James as he reached the foot of the stairs.

“You look concerned, Billingsley,” James said.

“Cook has declared that she cannot prepare the venison her ladyship has requested,” the butler explained. “The meat intended for this evening has gone off.”

“Can she not obtain another cut? Or simply prepare a different dish?”

“I could not say, my lord,” the butler replied. “She wished the matter settled by you.”

“No one else in the family is capable of seeing to this?” Why had he even asked the question? No one was ever capable of handling anything.

“Lady Techney directed the issue to you.”

Of course she did. “I will see to it.”

The butler seemed satisfied and left to see to his other duties. On his way to the kitchen, James encountered the gardener, who spoke at length about an aphid infestation. Moments after directing the gardener to do his best in dealing with the pests, James addressed the coachman’s concern over the need for a new axle on the traveling coach before the family returned to Lancashire. Then a footman gave James a letter from the gamekeeper at Techney Manor expressing concerns about poachers. This was Father’s estate, deuce take it, yet everything fell on James’s shoulders—James, who had been cut off by his father. James, who had been all but disinherited. He needed a respite, an ally. He’d had that for one brief moment, and he’d thrown it away. He’d lost Daphne’s friendship as well as her unfailingly calm head in the midst of trouble, her support and encouragement.

He pushed back his regrets, something he’d done almost constantly since her departure, and set his mind to discovering his brother’s very effective hiding place. After a moment’s contemplation, the answer became clear. The only place a gentleman could have any hope of avoiding company was in his own bedchamber.

James knocked on Ben’s door. His business with his brother held greater sway than the crises of the staff.

Ben opened the door, nodding to James.

“Ben, I—” James’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the traveling trunk awaiting attention. “Are you leaving?”

Ben dropped a pair of cuff links into a drawstring bag and tossed it into a portmanteau. “In the morning.”

An open traveling case sat half full on the floor. Several shirts lay strewn across the bed.

“When did you make this decision?” Had he offended his brother somehow?

Ben carefully folded a shirt—he hadn’t the means to hire a valet to see to his clothing. “When I received the invitation from Mr. Windover.”

Windover? “Miss Lancaster’s brother-in-law?”

Ben nodded, his eyes wide with obvious anticipation. “We’ve been corresponding ever since Miss Lancaster wrote to tell him of my situation. I received an invitation this morning to be a guest at his home. He offered to show me around his land and talk about investments and changes that might help me begin to turn around my own estate.”

Investments Ben would soon not have the income to undertake. James had decided the night before that he ought to have been up front with his brother from the beginning. Ben’s income had been on the line, and he had deserved to know so he could prepare himself for the possibility of failure on James’s part. Yet another well-meaning mistake he had made.

“I am afraid I have some bad news,” James said, his stomach twisting. How did one tell one’s brother that he had gambled away his inheritance?

“How bad?” Ben did not seem terribly concerned, his focus still on his packing.

“It involves Father.”

Ben looked up at him. “That is bad. What did he do this time?”

No words came. Ben was going to lose everything. He couldn’t think of any way to ease the impact of that revelation. All the effort Ben had gone to, the sacrifices he’d made over the past couple of years, his newfound correspondent would be for naught.

“James?”

James sat on the edge of the bed, reminding himself that Ben needed to know his situation before he committed to anything he could no longer afford. “My courtship with Miss Lancaster fell through.”

“I noticed.” Ben watched him in obvious curiosity, though not a great deal of worry.

“Father forced the courtship with threats I could not ignore.” James took a deep breath. “One of those threats involved you.”

Ben sat beside him, looking concerned for the first time. “What did he threaten to do?”

“With the match no longer a possibility, Father is going to cut off your income.” There. It was out. “I’ll do what I can to help you, but he’s cutting me off as well. It—”

“James.”

“—won’t be much, but I’ll come up with something.”

“James.”

“You won’t—”

“Blast it, James. Stop talking and listen to me.”

James nodded. Ben would be angry, and rightly so. But he deserved that. He would take whatever tongue-lashing his brother chose to inflict.

“You agreed to Father’s scheme because he threatened to cut off my income from the estate?” Ben asked.

James nodded. “And Mother’s pin money.”

“And when he made these threats, did you check to make certain he had the ability to follow through with them?” Ben’s tone was very nearly condescending.

“He controls all facets of the estate, Ben. He—”

“Cannot violate the terms of his and Mother’s marriage settlement.” Ben shifted enough to look James in the eye. “When I inherited my ‘little bit of land,’ as Father calls it, I had a solicitor look into my financial situation, including my quarterly allowance from the Techney estate. I wanted to know how much reliable income I had to work with.” His gaze intensified, and he leaned a touch closer. “Father and Mother’s marriage settlement set forth and guaranteed the amount any younger sons would receive from the estate.”

“Then”—James’s mind reeled as he pieced together what Ben was saying—“Father cannot cut you off?”

“No.”

“It was an empty threat.” The thought had never occurred to him.

“Incidentally,” Ben said, “the marriage settlement also guarantees—”

“Mother’s pin money.” James knew the truth of it even as he spoke the words.

“I am afraid you have been duped, James.”

James clenched his fists. Father had tricked him into compromising everything he stood for. It had all been a lie.

A string of unflattering assessments of both himself and his father issued forth with the fluency borne of years of silent cursings. He’d sold his integrity for a pack of lies. Like an utter imbecile, he hadn’t even checked to see if Father had the ability to follow through.

A surge of bleakness tempered his anger. He had failed horribly.

Ben stood once more, a decidedly empathetic expression on his face. “I suppose, though, as the heir, you’ve never before had reason to wonder if you could be permanently cut off.”

He had never worried about that. Father could not ultimately disinherit him. “It is rather ridiculous, then, that his threat to beggar me is the only one he has the power to see through. That is the one that did not work to begin with.”

“The income of the heir was not specified in the marriage settlements,” Ben said, empathy ringing deep in his tone.

“Lucky me,” James muttered.

“What do you plan to do?”

James stood, an odd sense of numbness overtaking him. “I need to find someone to look after Mother—guard her from Father’s coldness.”

“A companion?” Ben asked.

James nodded. “A fierce companion, but one who will treat her with kindness.”

“That likely should have been done years ago,” Ben said.

James took a fortifying breath, his mind already listing the necessary steps to finding his mother a lady to keep her company and champion her. “I also need to find a source of income,” he said as much to himself as his brother.

“Employment?”

He couldn’t blame Ben for being shocked. Few members of the ton would lower themselves to seeking work. Most would live off their expectations or the generosity of their friends. “I’ve made enough selfish decisions lately. It’s time I begin taking responsibility for myself.”

Ben laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you remember all those times we talked about finding the strength to choose our own paths? It is time you made good on those long-ago promises to yourself.”

His own path. “That is a daunting prospect for a fellow who is at his lowest point and rather glaringly alone.”

“You may have lost the devotion of a very remarkable lady, one who could probably navigate this maze with her eyes shut and her hands tied behind her back—”

James smiled a bit at the picture his brother painted. Daphne was, by all accounts, awe-inspiring. So capable and determined. He would never find another lady like her.

“—but you still have me,” Ben finished. “I know poverty rather well. I’ll show you how to live it in style.”

“I look forward to your tutelage.” James tried for a rueful smile, the effort feeling as though it fell decidedly short of the mark.

“Now get out so I can pack.” Ben’s smile took all the sting out of his words. But as quickly as it had appeared, his smile faded. “I wish all of this hadn’t hurt Miss Lancaster.”

“I made her cry, Ben.” Regret solidified as a lump in his throat. “She deserves so much better than the way I’ve treated her.”

“You said before that you thought the two of you could have been happy together. Was that just wishful thinking or . . . ?” Ben let the rest of the question dangle unspoken.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about her since yesterday. Not just the regrets and the hating myself for what I did, but thinking about her. Where she is. How she’s feeling. What it would take to see her again, and how impossible that hope is.”

Ben set his hand on James’s shoulder. “I am sorry . . . about everything.”

“So am I,” James said. “More sorry than I can even say.”

“What comes next?” Ben asked.

“I need to talk to Mother.” He only hoped she would hold up. Difficulties undid her easily.

He stepped inside his mother’s bedchamber, coming face-to-face with the writing desk where Daphne had expertly concocted teas and tisanes to see Mother through that difficult night. He stood there a moment, mourning what might have been.

“James.” Mother’s characteristically quiet voice reached him from her place near the fire. She was out of bed. That was a good sign. “I am so pleased you’ve come. I had hoped we could visit before I returned to Lancashire.”

He pulled up the ottoman and sat at her feet, as he’d often done as a child. “I was hoping for the same thing, as a matter of fact.”

She gave him a look of something bordering on pity. “What happened with Miss Lancaster?”

He quickly explained how Daphne had overheard his conversation with Father and had learned of the real reason he had begun to court her. He could still remember so clearly the pain in her face, the devastation. She had cried. The sight haunted him.

“What did your father threaten to do if you refused?” Mother asked.

“Something I have come to find out he has not the authority to do,” James answered.

“James.” She lightly touched his hand, a hesitancy in the gesture that had never been there before. “I know you want to shield me from unpleasantness, the way you do everyone, but I would really like to know.”

He couldn’t immediately bring himself to burden her with the full extent of her husband’s villainy. “He threatened you and Ben.” He shifted uncomfortably at the idea of discussing this with her. She was too easily overwhelmed by difficulties. He offered what he hoped she interpreted as an apologetic look.

“If Miss Lancaster had asked you the details of a problem you were dealing with, no matter how difficult that problem might have been, would you have told her?”

James did not even have to ponder the question. He would have told her and without hesitation. Daphne would not only have remained collected during the conversation; she would have talked with him, helped him sort out the trouble.

“I watched you with her,” Mother said. “She changed you. And though I was extremely reluctant to accept what was so obvious, feeling as though doing so was somehow betraying you, she changed you for the better. Do you know that it has been years since I have heard you laugh?”

Truly? He did not remember being so unhappy.

“Seeing you the day the two of you played lawn bowls was like watching a completely different person. The tension you always carry melted away, your”—her voice broke—“your eyes were smiling, James. I have not seen that since you were a tiny boy.”

He had felt it too. For once, his responsibilities hadn’t felt like burdens. He had truly enjoyed himself in a way he hadn’t in years.

“I wanted to hate her for taking away your control over your own future, but the more I knew her, the more I found disliking her impossible.”

He placed his hand over Mother’s where it still rested on his arm and lightly squeezed her fingers. “Miss Lancaster is a remarkable person. I don’t believe anyone could possibly dislike her.”

“You would walk into a room,” Mother said, “and your eyes would search the whole of it until you found her. A look of relief would cross your face, as though simply knowing she was nearby comforted you on the instant. That I could not explain away. Nor the fact that you turned to her so naturally when even the smallest difficulty arose or to make some witty observation or simply to talk to her. You are not one to open yourself up to people in that way.”

Daphne had been an easy and natural confidante, something he hadn’t expected.

“Do you love her, James?” Such a direct question was unlike Mother.

“Ben asked me the same thing.”

“And what did you tell your brother?”

“Father’s edict may have instigated this courtship, but the more I knew her, the more time I spent with her, the less I thought about the beginnings of all this. The courtship became real in my mind.” It truly had. “I like her a great deal.”

“You like the puppy a great deal, son,” Mother said dryly. “Be honest with yourself, even if you cannot be fully honest with me.”

“I suppose that is hard when I know there is no hope,” James said. “I imposed upon her in a way I can never fully forgive myself. I am quite certain she never will. That is a difficult poison to swallow.”

“How awful it is that my objections stemmed from wishing you to be happy with someone you loved.” Mother’s smile was infinitely sad. “In the end, you fell in love with her anyway, and now you are more unhappy than before.”

You fell in love with her. He had, though he’d not before fully admitted it. He loved her, and she most likely hated him for what he’d done.

“Please do not fret over me,” James said. “I am making the best of my situation. And I have not forgotten the difficulty with tonight’s venison. I mean to suggest Cook make fish, as I know you like fish very much, and it should not be difficult to obtain.”

She reached up and touched his face. “You always were such a wonderful, thoughtful boy. Growing up has not changed that.”

His attempt at a change of topic had not worked. “I have not felt very wonderful or thoughtful of late. What gentleman could, knowing he had so poorly treated a lady he cared so much for?”

She held her arms open to him. Like the little boy he’d once been, he accepted her embrace gladly and with such need. He felt lost and alone and, in that moment, needed his mother.

“I love you, my dear James. And I have never lost faith in you.”

Now, if only he could find reason to have faith in himself.