Chapter Six
VW
Harry was whistling as he walked into Adam’s book room. Adam hated when Harry whistled. And though it was difficult to do so while fighting a grin, Harry took the opportunity to whistle a jaunty tune once in a while when Adam was certain to overhear.
Adam was rolling his eyes as Harry dropped into his usual wingback armchair just to the side of Adam’s imposing desk.
Harry had long ago refused to sit in the abnormally low straight-back chair that sat directly across from Adam.
It was a place meant to inspire a feeling of inferiority and discomfort to its occupant. Harry would really rather not.
“Your message sounded urgent,” Harry said casually.
In all reality he was excessively curious.
Falstone House. Now. That was the extent of Adam’s scrawled note.
The curtness of it meant Adam was either angry or annoyed.
Harry preferred annoyed—it was a far less tricky state of mind to navigate.
Adam was a touch too unpredictable when he was truly angry.
“And yet,” Adam said, “you took more than an hour to arrive.”
The irritation in Adam’s tone was reassuring. “It didn’t sound that urgent,” Harry replied, leaning back in his chair, presenting the very picture of unconcerned relaxation.
“A gentleman of sense would have found any correspondence from me urgent to the point of panic.”
“The fact that I am so obviously something of a flat must really burn your spleen,” Harry observed.
“Cut the cant, Harry.” That was Adam’s usual reply to Harry’s use of slang. Adam disliked slang as much as whistling. Probably more. “I am out of patience with you as it is.”
“And what sin do you have to lay at my door this time?” Harry asked with a chuckle he didn’t bother to hide.
He had become something of an expert on Adam Boyce over the years, learning to read his expressions and tones as easily as he read words on a paper.
It was true, Adam was certainly annoyed with Harry.
But his disgruntled feelings didn’t go beyond that.
There was no true anger, simply irritation.
Adam raised an eyebrow, face stern, mouth a thin line of disapproval. He held up a sheet of paper, its writing visible but not legible from a distance, folded in a way that proclaimed it a piece of correspondence.
Odd. Harry couldn’t immediately identify what a letter could contain that would gain him Adam’s ire. Nor could he guess from whom the letter might have come.
Quite suddenly, Adam was not alone at his desk.
A girl, small for her age with her dark hair pulled back in two long plaits, deep-brown eyes contrasting against her pale face, stood beside Adam, her gaze darting between the two men.
Daphne, Athena’s twelve-year-old sister, had a way of moving about the house in such absolute silence that one never anticipated her arrival in a room.
Harry smiled at her, as he always did when they were in company with one another.
Her cheeks pinked as usual. But to Harry’s surprise, instead of the posture of bashful discomfort she had assumed in the past, Daphne moved closer to Adam, curling into his side.
Adam reached out to his silent sister-in-law and wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders, actually pulling her closer to him, remaining seated.
Harry stared in astonished disbelief. This was not the prickly, unapproachable Adam Boyce he knew.
“What is it, Daphne?” Adam asked, every trace of annoyance gone from his tone. Harry thought Adam even almost smiled.
“I wanted to come sit with you,” she answered, her voice so quiet Harry could barely make out her words. Her eyes darted to him for a moment before returning to gaze at her clasped hands, hanging in front of her. “It is four o’clock. As always.”
“Yes, but Mr. Windover is here an hour late,” Adam replied.
“And your business is such that I cannot remain,” Daphne stated. On the few occasions Harry had interacted with Daphne, he had been impressed by her maturity and intelligence. For a girl who was little more than a child, she had a remarkably sharp mind.
“I am afraid not,” Adam replied.
Daphne nodded, her features taking on a look of neutrality that, when she happened to glance briefly in Harry’s direction, was belied by the disappointment he saw in her eyes.
Did this unlikely pair truly spend afternoons regularly in one another’s company?
Who had instigated the arrangement—somehow Harry couldn’t picture either party doing so.
Adam was too gruff and preferred isolation. Daphne was too reserved.
Harry heard Daphne take an oddly shaky breath in the moment before he realized her eyes had turned uncomfortably bright, and her chin was wobbling ever so slightly.
“Daphne.” Adam’s gentle rebuke broke into the silence. “You know the rules.”
She nodded. “No crying,” she whispered.
“Precisely. Now I will be in Lords tomorrow but should have time the day after for our usual afternoon discussion,” Adam said.
Daphne looked up at Adam, brows creased in concentration. “What if he comes back?” she asked, nodding her head toward Harry as she emphasized he.
“I’ll throw him out.” Adam shrugged.
Daphne smiled up at her brother-in-law, putting Harry firmly in mind of her older sister, except that Athena’s hair was golden and curly, her eyes a startling shade of green.
Daphne, other than the creamy pale of her skin, had much darker coloring.
Their smiles, however, were the same—down to the single dimple near the left corner of her mouth.
Even more shocking, Adam smiled back at her. He never smiled at anyone. Harry was certain it was partly the result of self-consciousness. Adam’s facial scars made his smiles uneven and puckered. The remaining reason was his disgruntled nature. Adam very seldom found a reason to smile.
As silently as she had entered, Daphne left the book room.
Without a word of explanation for his complete character shift in the presence of his young sister-in-law, Adam took hold of the letter he’d held aloft a moment before Daphne’s arrival and held it up once more, his eyes focused again on Harry.
The message was obvious. Adam would not discuss Daphne.
“Ah, yes, the mysterious letter,” Harry said, shaking off his lingering confusion over the interaction he’d just watched.
“Mr. George Howard,” Adam said, his words once again clipped and impatient.
With that, Harry burst out laughing.
Adam raised an eyebrow, his expression stern.
“What on earth was he writing about?” Harry managed.
“You tell me, Harry. You are supposed to be sorting through the suitors so I am not bothered by them.”
“Suitors?” Harry grinned. “Is the man writing you love letters?”
Adam didn’t look amused. “He has written to request permission to court Athena.”
“Written?” Harry chuckled. “Isn’t that sort of thing usually done in person?”
Adam’s eyes dropped to the letter, and he began reading with the same tone of mocking annoyance he used when reading letters from his cousin and heir-presumptive—a man whose intelligence and bravery Adam found entirely lacking.
“‘Miss Lancaster likes trees. I like trees. It seems we would suit. But only if Your Grace will permit it. I would rather not be shot, so I am asking from a distance.’” Adam dropped the letter onto his desk and shook his head in obvious disapproval.
“Imbecile. As if I couldn’t shoot him from a distance as easily as I could in my own home. ”
But Harry was still too diverted by Mr. Howard’s reasoning to find Adam’s words as amusing as he usually did. I like trees. How very fitting it was as a declaration from that particular gentleman.
“What are Athena’s feelings regarding this Mr. Howard?
” Adam said, phrasing his inquiry as if to indicate he was unfamiliar with Howard, when Harry knew that Adam was perfectly aware of who he was.
“Will I need to dispose of him quietly to spare her sensibilities, or does she possess enough intelligence to have already written him off?”
“What do you plan to do if she has no feelings for the unfortunate man?” Harry asked, smiling broadly. “The gibbet is too far away, after all.”
“The man practically requested that I shoot him,” Adam answered. Anyone who did not know Adam as well as Harry did would never have known the infamous duke actually had no intention of shooting Mr. Howard.
“Well, then, as sorry as this makes me for Mr. Howard, I must truthfully tell you that, far from ruing his loss from her court of admirers, Athena would probably be grateful for your interference.”
“So she has not fallen for whatever well-hidden charms the man might possess?” Adam asked.
“Not remotely.”
“Then why am I dealing with him?” Adam demanded. “You are supposed to be sorting all this out and leaving me out of it.”
“I confess I hadn’t anticipated a letter,” Harry said, barely managing not to chuckle. “And I cannot prevent others from trying the same approach.”
“I’ll pack her up and leave Town,” Adam informed him, a promise blatant in his tone.
It was a tempting prospect. If Athena was not in London making her bows to society, she would not be snatched up, and he, Harry, would not have to endure losing her.
But Athena, he knew, would be devastated.
As much as seeing her married to another would pain him, he could not bring himself to be party to anything that would so thoroughly disappoint her.
“Perhaps I ought to subtly spread word around the clubs that the Duke of Kielder will not endure impertinent letters from prospective suitors for the hand of his sister-in-law.” Harry smiled amusedly.
It would not be the first time he had started whispered warnings amongst the gentlemen of society.
He liked to think he’d saved many a rash man from the heart-stopping experience of finding himself on the wrong side of His Grace, the Dangerous Duke of Kielder.
Adam nodded. “But not subtly.”
“Not subtly. I shall be direct and obvious and will even manage to look pale with fright. The entire ton will be too afraid to so much as send you an invitation let alone any actual correspondence.”
Adam gave him a look clearly communicating that for all of society to be so entirely overcome with fear would hardly be disappointing.
“Anything else I ought to warn our fellow men about where Athena is concerned?” Harry chuckled.
“Impertinence is annoying but endurable. However, I will not countenance fortune hunters,” Adam said.
“I can practically smell them coming out of the sewers every time her name comes up. The size of her dowry is well-known. I will not have her snatched up by some pathetic excuse for a man who needs her money like Mr. Howard obviously needed a tutor. Let the gentlemen know I have certain standards where a suitor’s bank account is concerned. ”
No glib comment came to mind. It was a directive. Adam had just expressly forbade any gentleman lacking in funds from courting Athena. Harry was officially and inarguably ineligible.
“Oh, dear. This appears to be a very serious discussion.” Persephone was standing in the doorway smiling.
“Harry is causing trouble,” Adam replied.
“For you as well?” Persephone said, stepping inside and looking on the verge of laughter. “Harry seems to have made quite a handful of enemies in this house today.”
“Who else is upset with him?” Adam asked, all outward appearance indicating he was entirely serious. Only the slightest hint of amusement existed in his voice.
Persephone crossed to the desk, tapping her lower lip with her finger as if thinking.
Her eyes were twinkling mischievously. “Daphne is apparently put out over what she called Harry’s ‘shocking lack of punctuality.’” Harry was certain Adam almost laughed.
“Artemis is upset because Daphne is back in the nursery, and she was ‘absolutely depending’ on an hour without her sister. Athena is looking daggers at this very moment and muttering about the unthinkable punishments she plans to heap on Harry’s head.
” She gave Harry a pointed look that was both laughing and entertained.
“Why is Athena upset with me?” Harry asked, not nearly as diverted as he had been by the younger girls’ complaints.
“I leave it to you to find out.”
“Unfair,” Harry complained with a smile.
“But far more enjoyable.”
“For you.”
“Precisely.”
“And are you upset with Harry as well?” Adam asked Persephone.
“At the moment I am quite put out with him.” But Persephone’s smile had only grown.
“And why is that?” Adam asked.
Persephone sat on the edge of Adam’s desk, facing him, and reached out one hand to lightly brush a tuft of hair from his face. Persephone’s hand trailed down Adam’s face to rest along his jaw, her smile turning softer and far too intimate for Harry’s comfort.
“Harry,” Adam said authoritatively.
“Yes, Adam,” Harry said.
“Get out.”
Harry laughed and rose from his seat, moving quickly to the door. He glanced back before stepping out of the room only to be greeted with the sight of Adam pulling Persephone into his arms. Lucky dog.
Adam was married to his lady love. Harry was, apparently, in trouble with his.