sister, pushing Jasper aside to embrace Nick. “No one is going to a convent. After how difficult the three of you made it for me to find a husband, I won’t allow you to torment my daughters and niece.”
Nick held his favorite sibling for a moment longer than was necessary, taking comfort in her nearness. Only a year older than him, Charity had always been closest to him. Marriage and motherhood had taken her out of his life, and he didn’t see her as much as he would like.
“You made it dashed difficult for us, Charity. You needed more than three brothers to keep you out of trouble … you needed an entire regiment.”
Charity gave him a wicked smile as they pulled apart. “I would have escaped them just as easily as I did you. How are you Nicky?”
“I’m well enough,” he replied, kissing her cheek. “I need to speak with you later … alone.”
There was no time for her to do anything but nod, as the children parted to admit his uncle. Paul had left his chair and waded through the tangle of bodies to get to him. Nick was momentarily taken aback by the changes that had occurred since he’d last lain eyes on his uncle.
The man had always been slender, but now appeared emaciated, the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw downright gaunt. He was the second son, a few years younger than the earl, yet somehow looked years older. The change in his features made the gray strands more prominent along his jaw, the snow spreading from his temples to tangle with thinning brown hair.
“Uncle Paul,” he choked out, trying not to allow his shock to show. “It’s been an age since I saw you last. Where have you been hiding yourself?”
The older man took Nick in an embrace, and the startling weakness in Paul’s limbs made itself apparent.
“When you’ve grown as old as I have, country life becomes more appealing by the year,” his uncle declared with a shaky smile. “But city life seems to agree with you, my boy. You look well.”
“And you …”
Nick choked on the lie, his brows drawing together as he tried to make sense of this. His grim-faced parents looked on in silence. Something was wrong, and in typical fashion for this family, Nick would be the last to know. His siblings were now avoiding his gaze, and Charity chewed her lip the way she always did when something was bothering her.
“I am glad you were able to join us tonight,” Paul said, taking his shoulder and giving it a weak squeeze. “I had hoped we could talk, like old times.”
Suddenly, the matter he wished to discuss with Charity seemed inconsequential, as did anything having to do with Calliope or his courtesan duties. A fretful premonition opened in his middle, and his appetite waned.
“Of course.”
The butler arrived to announce that dinner was ready, and the family began moving en masse toward the connecting door. His mother halted him before he could enter, taking his hand and raising it to her lips.
“You are as handsome as ever, my son,” she said, casting an adoring, green stare up at him. “I’ve missed you. You ought to visit more often.”
Guilt tugged on Nick’s conscience, as he was faced with the evidence of his neglect. The tension between him and his father shouldn’t keep him away from his mother—who had been patient with him even when he didn’t deserve it.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her brow. “I have been occupied, but will make an effort—”
“Busy gambling what little funds you have,” the earl said with a derisive snort, his gaze dark and cold. “Though, Lord knows how you manage to find two sixpences to rub together these days.”
Nick couldn’t help a sly smile, tickled as always by his father’s ignorance of how he earned his own money. The earl had been needling him over it, his inquiries disguised as derision as he seemed to try to puzzle it out.
“A gentleman never discusses money, Father,” he said with an indolent shrug. “It is gauche. You taught me that, remember? Though I do find your concern touching. Never you fear … you cast me into the ocean, and I’ve learned to swim.”
He’d barely learned to keep his head above water, but his father didn’t need to know that.
The earl scowled, a ticking muscle in his jaw hinting at his agitation. “Your insolence isn’t as charming as you think it is.”
“And your disapproval