Chapter Twenty
O nce Sander had changed out of his saturated clothes, he made his way to the third level and down the corridor to Lucius’s chamber. His thirteen-year-old nephew was sitting in a chair staring out the window. “Lucius?”
“Did you come to box my ears as well?” His sullen tone banded Sander’s chest.
“Have I ever boxed your ears?” Sander returned.
“You’re the only one who hasn’t. It’s a wonder I’ve not sustained a crack in my skull.” His attention remained trained out at the powerful storm beyond.
“Is that why you’re home? Did someone attempt to crack your skull, as you put it?” Sander’s gut tightened at the thought. Lucius was highly sensitive. More so than Noah, who would take on the world for his infant brother.
Lucius rose from his seat, shrugging and not meeting Sander’s eyes.
“How did you manage the journey home? It was quite expensive, was it not?”
Another shrug. “I won some decent wagers.” He lifted a fiery gaze to Sander. “Why was I the one who had to leave? Noah’s the one who likes learning. I know everything I need to know.”
“This again?” Amusement mingled with exasperation seeped beneath Sander’s skin. “You think so? What of your Grand Tour when the time comes? The friends you attain at Eton will be your friends for life.”
“I don’t have any friends. And I don’t care.”
“You may not care now, son, but someday, you might.”
“I won’t.” He plopped back down in his chair, set his chin on his fist, and turned his gaze to the fire in the hearth.
There was a tap at the door and Noah strolled in, his constant companion’s head lying on his shoulder. “Lucius? I heard you’d come home.”
Lucius turned his head, eyes widening, interest flaring briefly. “Why are you tugging the brat about everywhere?”
“This is my Julius.”
“That’s a dumb name.”
“It is not,” Noah said hotly. “He’s our brother.”
Lucius’s lips curled into a sneer reminiscent of Damien’s. “Oh, that’s right. He killed Mama.”
“That’s enough, Lucius,” Sander snapped. “Your mother suffered horribly.” It hit him quite suddenly why Lucius had made his way home. And in such horrendous weather. “Noah, Miss Fairclough is in the library. Perhaps you and Julius could keep her company.”
Noah glared at Lucius and stormed from the chamber with Sander saving the door from slamming behind Noah’s fierce departure.
“You’re upset about your mother,” Sander suggested softly.
Lucius jumped from his chair and faced Sander with his hands clenched into fists, his stance tense and leaning forward. A fighting position, to be sure. “Why should I care about her ?”
Sander ticked off one finger. “She was your mother.” Ticked off a second. “You didn’t have an opportunity to say goodbye.” Ticked off a third. “You loved her.” He dropped his hand. “It’s difficult losing one’s mother, son.” As Sander well knew. The crunch of a harsh fist breaking delicate bones. The ensuing silence… But Sander quickly pushed that memory right out of his head, or at least to the outer fringes. It was Lucius who needed his assistance now. His own nightmares were saved for the depths of night.
Lucius, blinking rapidly, turned away. “Why does Noah call the baby ‘my Julius’?” Only the smallest tremor in his voice betrayed the roiling emotion he was attempting to conceal.
Sander went to Lucius, placed his hands on his nephew’s shoulders and squeezed. “He said your father gave Julius to him. I believe it was Noah who named him. Turns out he’s quite the nursemaid— and I’ll thank you to keep that sentiment to yourself.”
Lucius shook off Sander’s hold. He brought up an arm and swiped it across his face. “Least it’s got his nose out of all those stupid books he reads all the time.”
Sander smiled. “Not completely.”
Lucius turned, having gotten control of himself, and faced Sander. “What do you mean?”
“I hired Miss Fairclough as his new governess. I expect you’ll be joining your brother for lessons since the weather is too hazardous to return you to school.”
Lucius groaned, but it was more in the line of an acceptance-of-the-situation sound rather than his usual rebellious sort.
“Come along to meet her. She’s quite interesting, I daresay. You’ll see.”