“That’s because you have the same opinion of yourself as everyone else. You’ve been told you’re a wastrel, so you’ve come to believe it. I think it’s time someone helped you make something else of yourself, don’t you? A gentleman farmer with more wealth than he could spend in one lifetime … yes, I think I like that for you better than ‘shameless, gambling rake.’”
Tangled up with his disbelief and shock was a visceral aversion to what his uncle was offering him. Was he supposed to delight in profiting from another man’s death?
“I don’t want it.”
“You not wanting it doesn’t change that I’m going to die. It also doesn’t change the contents of my will, which have been recently finalized to name you the sole recipient of everything that is mine.”
Nick ran a hand over his face, swiping away the last of the dampness that had leaked from the corners of his eyes. He hardly knew how to absorb this—his uncle announcing he was dying and leaving Nick everything he had, as if it were some kind of gift. He had been in desperate need of steady income for years, but would never have traded the person he admired most in the world to have it.
Just then, the door swung open to admit Charity, who gave him a pitying look when she noticed the residual tears clinging to his eyelashes. Nick dashed them away with a sniffle. His uncle and sister exchanged loaded glances as Nick dropped into the nearest chair and slouched, working to keep his face free of the signs of his devastation.
“The children are all sleeping soundly, thank God,” Charity said as she took a seat near him and kicked off her slippers. “Meanwhile, the maids are still searching for and cleaning up stray peas in the dining room.”
She seemed content to overlook the scene she’d walked in on, and steer the conversation toward lighter matters. Nick was grateful for the distraction. He would take the time later to wallow in his feelings, when he could be alone. Just now, he wanted to forget Paul had ever told him.
“If Cook doesn’t want us wasting peas, she shouldn’t serve them,” Nick quipped. “Everyone knows the best use of them is as projectiles, and why anyone would want to consume them is beyond me.”
“I want my children to eat their vegetables, not use them as weapons.”
Nick scoffed. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Paul laughed, while Charity gave him an exasperated look. Then, his sister curled her legs beneath her and raised her eyebrows at him.
“What did you want to speak to me about?”
In the wake of his uncle’s revelation, Nick had forgotten all about Calliope. He was glad to have something else to turn his attention to just now, and latched onto Charity’s lifeline with relish.
“I’ve recently made the acquaintance of a lady and had hoped you could tell me more about her.”
Charity perked up at that, her face taking on an expression akin to a startled doe. “A lady?”
“Oh my,” Paul murmured. “Charity, I fear we may face the end of the world as we know it. Your brother is thinking of pursuing an actual lady.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like that.”
“When is it never ‘not like that’ when it comes to you and women?” Charity countered.
“Would you just tell me what you know about Miss Calliope Barrington?”
Anything that would help him with his new keeper would be welcome. She seemed a bit repressed to him, closed off in a way that would make coming to know her difficult. And, the better he knew her, the easier it would be to convince Martin Lewes and the entire ton that he was courting her.
“Miss Barrington,” Charity murmured, squinting as if deep in thought. “We are not friends, but we have been introduced. I’ve come in contact with her on occasion. She is a well-known patroness of a charitable committee in London. Oh, what’s it called, again? There are so many of them these days … something to do with foundling children, I believe.”
Of course. The woman was prim, proper, and a prude, so it stood to reason she was also a saint who spent her spare time ensuring the welfare of orphans.
“And where does she get the funds for such a thing?” Nick asked, though what he really wanted to know was how she was flush enough to afford him.
“She recently reached her majority, and as she is not wed became the recipient of