did not have to demand so vociferously that my heir take a bride, and now that Nick’s marriage is close at hand, I am wishing Nick had chosen for himself, not for me.”
And thus, the ground became boggy with conflicting loyalties. “I don’t think Nick regards himself as very promising husband material. Had you not cornered him with a promise, I doubt he would have chosen any bride at all.”
The earl smiled. “There is that. The boy is a damned stallion with the ladies.”
“He has that reputation,” Ethan said. “He’s curbed his enthusiasm while he’s seeking a bride.”
“Maybe. Nonetheless, I want to extract the proverbial deathbed promise from you, Ethan.” Never was such an endeavor so gleefully posited.
“You may try,” Ethan replied coolly, knowing the earl expected no less of him.
“Resume the job I took from you in your youth.”
“What job would that be?”
“Guard your brother’s back. If I know him, he’s charging into this marriage headlong, with all sorts of fool notions and no clear sense of the institution’s proper purpose. Keep him from making a complete hash of it, would you?”
“I made worse than a hash of my own marriage, ergo, this is not a promise I feel qualified to make.”
“You married the wrong woman,” the earl concluded dismissively. “This Lindsey girl has potential, as does Nick.”
“So I’m to what?” Ethan shoved to his feet. “Serve as some sort of Cupid? A fairy godmother to my little brother in his Society marriage? You know I wouldn’t promise any such thing. Nick has more experience dealing with ladies than I will ever have.”
Than he ever hoped to have, come to that.
“You are simply to be his friend,” the earl said, sitting back with a sigh that was the embodiment of subtle parental histrionics. “Don’t let the estrangement I created keep you from each other, not when Nick will be dealing with my death, his eternally dear but squealing sisters, a new wife, and that pack of buffoons we refer to as the Lords. Nick will find a title brings with it a peculiar brand of loneliness, and he’ll need you every bit as much as he did as a boy.”
The earl’s words held no posturing or attempt at manipulation. He was just a papa, trying to see to his children’s happiness in a future they would face without him. And in truth, the earl had read both sons accurately.
“I will be Nick’s devoted brother, to the extent he will allow it.”
“Perishing lawyer.” The earl scowled at his son with what Ethan knew damned well was affection. “Fair enough. Now go scare him and tell him I want to see him, and I don’t have all night.”
“Pressing engagements?”
The earl grimaced. “Wait until you are old, boy. You’ll learn the tyranny of the chamber pot, see if you don’t.”
And now, Ethan did not want to go. Not even so far as the comfortable chambers down the hall. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“Off to Town, no doubt,” the earl said briskly.
“Would you like to be closer to the fire?”
“I would. Why don’t you bring the fireplace over here?”
“That would likely be less trouble than getting you to accept assistance,” Ethan muttered. “Up you go.” He took his father’s arm and boosted him to his feet with a hand under the opposite elbow, then kept his arm around his father’s waist as the old man tottered across the room.
“There is no accurately conveying the bitter depths of the indignities that befall a proud man in old age,” the earl said, pausing before the cushioned chair at the hearth. “I know I should be grateful for each day…”
“But it’s a qualified gratitude,” Ethan suggested. “Like many of life’s blessings are qualified.”
“Just so.” The earl weaved a little on his feet and clutched Ethan’s hand. He weaved more and reached his bony arms around Ethan’s waist. “But don’t worry about me, boy, and don’t worry for yourself. You’ll do fine in this life, and I am proud of you.” He held on in Ethan’s embrace with a ferocity belied by his frailness, before repeating, “You’ll be fine. I know you’ll be just fine.”
“Guard those miniatures for me,” Ethan said, carefully lowering his father to the chair.
“Oh, of course.” The earl wheezed a laugh. “With my life, you may depend upon it. My very life. Now be gone, and fetch Wee Nick.”
“Good night, Papa.”
The earl’s lips quirked as he withdrew the miniatures from his pocket. “Good night, Son. Safe journey.”