Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,105

until today. What of it?”

Pru moved to stand directly in front of the earl. “It is a sign. Give him a chance, my lord. Please.”

A movement behind him caught her attention, and she craned her neck to see the vicar and Nash making their way toward them. “Here he comes, my lord. This is your opportunity.”

Twenty-Two

Nash did not like his empty pocket. He continued to reach for it, touch it, even though he knew it was empty. He tried not to panic. He reminded himself Rowden had his pistol. Rowden had his back.

The vicar arrived and came to speak to Nash, and Nash nodded and smiled. But he had no idea what the man said. Nash could only think about the pistol. And then he realized if the vicar was here, Pru might be here.

“Is Miss Howard with you?” Nash asked, interrupting some monologue on God creating Eden.

“Eh? Oh, yes. She is showing Lord Beaufort the lawns set aside for the games.”

She was with his father? Alone?

“Speaking of Eden,” Nash said. “You should see that view as well. Come.” Without waiting for Mr. Higginbotham, Nash started in the direction of the east lawn. He brushed his walking stick before him periodically to make certain he would not crash into any unexpected objects, but for the most part, he knew the way well now.

“Mr. Pope!” Pru said as he neared and just the sound of her voice calmed him. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, but he had enough sense to give her a formal bow.

“Miss Howard, thank you for coming to assist with the final preparations. We can certainly use your support.” He hoped she understood what he was really saying.

“I wouldn’t dream of staying away,” she said, and her voice was warm. “But now I think your father wishes to speak with you. Mr. Higginbotham, might I request your counsel on that area over there? I thought we might set up skittles.”

“Skittles? Where?”

“Come. I’ll show you.”

He heard the swish of her skirts as she moved away, and Nash wished he could go with her. Standing before his father now, he felt like the little boy he’d been twenty years ago. It might have helped to be able to see the man, reassure himself he was taller than the earl now, but the brightness of the sun made even seeing shapes impossible at the moment.

“You’re looking well this morning.”

Nash swallowed and tried not to touch his empty pocket. Funny how he’d forgotten about it when he’d known Pru was here and when he’d been in her presence.

“I feel like hell,” Nash said, surprising himself with his honesty. “I didn’t sleep all night, wondering if my door would be knocked down by a drove of doctors paid to take me away.”

“Come now, Nash. Is that what you think I would do? I’m not a monster.”

“No, you’re not. You’d drive me yourself and tell yourself you were doing the best thing for everyone.”

The earl sighed. “Can you blame me? When you came home from the war, your mother and I didn’t even recognize you. You looked the same, but it was as though a stranger had taken over your body. You would not come out from under your bed for three days, Nash. You shot a hole in the ceiling of the music room, scaring your sister half to death.”

Nash had a vague recollection of being in the town house, but he did not remember these specifics.

“And you drank like a fish. You stumbled into your mother’s annual charity ball drunk and belligerent.”

Nash did remember that incident. The noise of the orchestra and the people had grated on his nerves. He’d just wanted it to stop.

“I remember. That was when you sent me away.”

“We thought the country air might help revive you.”

“You told me you would never speak to me again.”

There was a long silence. “I think you also said some things that day you might now regret.”

Nash couldn’t remember what he’d said that day. He doubted it was anything he wanted to remember. The point that stuck with him was that his father regretted saying he wouldn’t ever speak to him again. “You have regrets?” he asked, hating that he needed the answer to be affirmative so badly.

“I do. I shouldn’t have sent you away alone. And when I heard about the fire—”

“You mean when the vicar reported me.”

“Yes. And that you had shot Lieutenant Murray, I should have come. But quite honestly, Nash, I didn’t