He knew he should have paid more attention to the little things since they arrived. It wasn’t so easy, though; he had never once learned how to speak with children in all his nine-and-twenty years. He wasn’t like Stephen. How did he know he wouldn’t say something wrong and upset them even further?
“You’re their guardian now, Richie,” Stephen said, a little more gently. “Isla, Lucas – they’re gone, and they’re not coming back. The girls don’t have anyone else but that governess of theirs.”
Richard sighed. He hadn’t said a word, yet Stephen had cut to the heart of the matter with that uncanny, keen eye of his. “Weren’t you losing a few minutes ago?” he asked, ignoring the comment, and focusing on the game. Or, at least, he pretended to. It was the only distraction available to him, after all.
Stephen sighed. His eyes bored into Richard, trying to prompt him into sharing feelings he not only didn’t want but didn’t even know if he was capable of sharing. Then Stephen’s face brightened; thankfully, Richard’s friend would be good enough to go along with his fiction after all. “Well, yes, but it’s no fun if you don’t at least think you can win sometimes. I do take pity on you, you know.”
Richard snorted, relieved by the banter as a distraction from more serious matters. “I don’t know how Jack tolerates you at sea,” he said, referring to the sailor friend, who often amused his lackadaisical friend at sea. Richard would often go months without seeing Stephen, as he and Jack were off searching for their next adventure, finding new islands and new treasures. “I can barely tolerate you, and I’ve known you since we were boys.”
He smiled to let Stephen know he was joking and moved another piece, trying to mount a defense.
“You approached me in that schoolyard all those years ago,” Stephen replied.
There was a gentle smile on his face for a moment. Richard wondered if he was also remembering that day – the day when Stephen, only thirteen, had been shunned and mocked for his stand-out skin color. The bullies had jeered that, obviously, either the duke or the duchess had been unfaithful, and Stephen was a bastard.
It’s true, of course, but he’s legitimate, as far as the law is concerned, thanks to a loving stepmother claiming him as her own. Not that it should matter.
Richard had responded furiously, marching right up to the boys who were torturing poor Stephen and yelling at them that they were no better than anyone. Richard had always been comparatively quiet, but, at that point, he had lost his temper. He could still feel the hot rage pulsing in his veins all these years later, as he’d told the boys he’d fight them if they didn’t leave Stephen alone.
And we’ve been inseparable ever since.
Stephen’s face rearranged itself back into the easy-going expression it usually wore. “Obviously, it’s just my dashing charm. What a shame for the ladies of London that I have sworn myself to bachelorhood.” He glanced at the board and frowned. “Now, my dear Richard, why did you go and do that?” His voice sounded truly pained, as if it embarrassed him to witness his friend’s mistake.
“Do what?” Richard asked, glancing at the board as well.
“Why would you move your bishop there?” Stephen replied.
Richard stared at the board, trying to see the flaw, and Stephen sighed. The earl picked up one of his white pawns, and, in seconds, he’d claimed Richard’s bishop, landing directly by his king.
“Checkmate,” Stephen said, grinning and showing his fine teeth. “Honestly, Richie, it’s not sport when you’re moping like this. Pay up.”
Richard scowled at him. “That one doesn’t count,” he said. “I was still waking up. Come, let’s play another.”
Stephen shrugged. “If you want to gamble all your money away on my superior chess skills, be my guest,” he said.
Richard snorted, and the two of them began to set up the board again. However, just as the game was about to start, there was a tentative knock at the study door. Richard and Stephen looked at each other in confusion – luncheon was still most of an hour away, after all – before Richard said, “Come in.”
Their butler entered. He was a faithful old man by the name of Patrick Waters, who had been with the family for longer than Richard had been alive. “I’m sorry to interrupt Your Grace and your Lordship at play,” he said, nodding at both Stephen and Richard with