Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Milo stopped at the edge of the clearing and adjusted his daughter on his hip. She was too big to be carried, but he had indulged her this one last time because she kept pulling at his hand so hard and wouldn’t stop.
He set Lucy down on her feet and studied the house ahead of them. The crumbling structure hadn’t changed much from this perspective, since he’d seen it last. It had never been more than a ruin to him. For years, Father had promised to do something about it but never had.
He would start his search for Samuel here.
They had often played here as boys. He glanced over at Amelia to gauge her reaction and smiled as he saw that Adam was holding her hand. He hadn’t wanted to be carried—because he was a big boy—but he wasn’t above being led around by his new mother, it seemed. He understood the attraction.
Lucy tried to clasp his hand again, but Milo evaded her clutching fingers.
“Wait here with your mother,” he told her. “I’ll see if I can find your uncle.”
“Can I come with you, Papa?”
“No, you will not—and no running off into the woods, either, without Mama, or I’ll be cross with you and send you back to the nursery to spend the rest of the day alone,” he warned.
Lucy’s bottom lip trembled, but he was not moved to give in to her threat of tears. Her reaction always reminded him of his first wife when she did that. He would not allow her to play on his sympathies. She had to learn to obey and respect Amelia, too.
He glanced at Amelia and saw her watching his—no, their—daughter. “I won’t be long.”
He left them behind and strode across the clearing, struggling through the long grass and hidden obstacles brushing against his tall boots.
Limbs from a fallen tree had still not been cleared from what had once been a large lawn, blocking his path, and he climbed over them to reach the ruined house.
Something slithered away from the door, and he glanced back at Amelia to be certain she had not followed either.
Amelia stood with Adam leaning against her skirts, while Lucy stood in the lead, arms crossed over her chest and a pout on her lips still as she watched him.
He faced forward again, and grimaced to see broken tile from the chimney breast scattered on the entry steps. He moved around a bit farther, looking through windowpanes that had once been broken and dirty.
Something was being done to improve the building, albeit slowly, and it was not by Father.
Milo would tear the ruin down if he had his way. He considered it unsafe in its current condition, but Father was sentimental about the place. Great-Grandmama had spent her last years in this cottage, and the duke’s memories were fond ones.
If the estate possessed a proper dower house for Samuel to have moved to, their father likely would not be so worried about him living alone out here.
There were many benefits to having a second, smaller home on an estate of this size.
This cottage could be made useful again, but the cost would be considerable.
And who would want to live way out here, anyway?
He spotted a bottle of wine from the Stapleton cellar, fallen over by the steps and empty.
Samuel must come here sometimes.
If the cottage had been larger, Milo might have exercised his right as the oldest son to claim it for himself and keep his promise to Amelia.
They could have a separate home of their own away from the manor on the estate, and it would give her a garden to potter around in and space to raise their children while they were here.
He liked the idea, to be honest, but the cottage was far too shabby for his family in its current state.
He stepped closer to an open doorway and noticed that the frame was newly mended. The door swung easily when he pushed. Clean, fresh floorboards began at the door and continued down the hallway.
He knocked on the door. “Samuel.”
Only silence answered him.
Beyond the repaired door, there were a few other visible signs that his brother might be living inside the ruins now.
He faced the woods and then retraced his steps.
His family was where he’d left them, and he was pleased to see Lucy had edged closer to Amelia while he was gone.
He met Amelia’s gaze and shrugged. “There’s no one here.”
“Only if you never dare turn around,” Samuel called from somewhere to his left.
Milo pivoted toward the sound and found his brother—shirtless, shoeless—standing not far away, with an axe held loosely in his hand. His brother was all gleaming muscle and sweat, as if he’d been swinging that axe only moments before.
But he was unfit for viewing by a lady like his wife.
Milo rushed toward him. “Attend to your appearance, brother. There is a lady and children present,” he warned.
Samuel scanned the clearing and spotted his children and Amelia watching him. He shrugged. “Father must have warned you that I was living wild in the woods. You shouldn’t have brought them.”
“Yes, well, I wanted to see you myself. Find a shirt and put it on this minute.”
“It’s all right, Chatham,” Amelia called. “I have no interest in meeting an unkempt scoundrel.”
He smiled at her bravado but noticed that her cheeks were a little pink with embarrassment when she looked between Milo and his brother.
His children saw nothing wrong with the state of their uncle, though, and rushed toward him. Adam received a pat on his head, and Lucy earned a short bow.
“What are you doing out here? Did Papa’s dull guests drive you from the manor already?” Samuel asked, as he finally struggled into a filthy shirt deserving of the scrap heap.
Milo gritted his teeth at his insufficient improvement. “I’ve come to make some introductions.”
Samuel’s gaze slid to Amelia, and he squinted at her. “Don’t I know you already?”
“Back then, we barely spoke. I imagined you would not remember me, given how the night ended.”
“I could never forget you,” Samuel replied, bowing with extravagant grace.
Amelia shook her head, but a blush lingered on her cheeks as she studied Samuel with parted lips.
A cold hand pressed between Milo’s shoulder blades, and he stared at his wife in distraction. “You are better acquainted with my brother than you let on?”
“Oh yes,” Samuel said. “Amelia and I got drunk together once.”
Milo gaped
Amelia scowled though. “That is simply not true. He got horribly drunk at my brother’s house, and I put him to bed. Well, I told the servants to do it, and ordered him to keep his voice down when he complained about my poor hospitality.”
Milo stiffened, his temper rising. “When was this?”
“Not long after…”
She left the rest unsaid and glanced down at her fingers.
Samuel’s worst behavior stemmed from one particular moment in time: the death of his beloved wife. From then on, Samuel had lost his way in a manner that grew more concerning by the year.
His wife had been an extraordinary woman…but she wasn’t the only woman in the world. Amelia had taught Milo that.
Samuel had two sons to live for, too. The example he set was abominable. The boys deserved so much better from their father. He wondered if Samuel even knew where they were at that moment.
“Samuel…”
But that was all he managed to say because his brother turned his back on them.
“Go back to the manor, brother, and tell our father I’m happier here in the wild than anywhere.”
“I can’t do that. I promised.”
Samuel turned back abruptly. “What did Father promise you in return for your efforts to reform me? Clearly, you fulfilled his dearest wish to have at least one of us leg-shackled again.”
Milo was surprised that Samuel had heard he was married already. “Our father promised me nothing if I married again.”
“And yet you have done so,” Samuel noted, with a nod toward Amelia. “You of all people should know why I wish for solitude.”
“If you do not wish for ramblers disturbing your wallowing,” Amelia cut in, “you should put up a ‘no trespassing’ sign.”
Samuel glanced at Amelia, clearly considering her suggestion. “I might do that yet. Thank you for the suggestion.”
She glanced around and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure there’s paint at the manor that you could beg for, to make your martyrdom more obvious and satisfying.”
Samuel growled. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once and leave me alone?”
“Why don’t you finish dressing, and I’ll consider discussing it?” Amelia shook her head. “Your wife, she married a gentleman, not a peddler. A man who would protect her children from harm and give them love, no matter what happened to her. She would be embarrassed if she knew you lived like this.”
Samuel’s jaw clenched, and he turned away to snatch up his coat.
Milo studied Amelia in surprise at her blunt criticism. There were not many women who would confront a widow without offering platitudes.
But when Amelia winked at him, then wiped all expression from her face before Samuel could see, Milo smiled. His instincts had been right. Amelia would make a formidable duchess one day, if this was how she dealt with his still-grieving sibling.
When Milo turned back to his brother, Samuel was striding off into the woods alone. “Samuel, come back here.”
“I’ve got things to do,” he shouted.
Milo followed his brother a few steps, hoping that Amelia remained behind. But she and the children followed along, Amelia and Adam talking about Samuel and his cousins. Lucy continued with her sour expression and attempted to interrupt them.
Milo paused for a second, exasperated. “For heavens sake, Lucy, let your brother finish talking and then you can take your turn.”
He gave chase. Samuel had entered another clearing, where several trees had been felled, but it was clear they were the result of storm damage, not deliberately cut down. One branch had a length of canvas tied over it, creating an open-ended tent. Inside was a pile of blankets.
Milo winced at his brother wanting to live in such rough surroundings. He picked up a long saw, the type used by the estate woodsmen. “What are you doing with this?”