Picking up one of his nephews—Teddy—he threw the child into the air before lowering him to the ground.
“Now, who here is having a birthday?”
“Me!” Hannah shrieked, hurrying to his side.
“Then this must be for you.” He handed her the present he’d selected himself from the little store he’d visited when last he left London.
She sat right there on the floor before him, surrounded by her cousins, and opened it carefully. The doll had yellow wool curls and big blue eyes, and she instantly clutched it to her chest, which told him it was a success. He walked around the excited children and made for his mother’s side.
The difference in his parents from the two people who’d raised him was as night to day. They’d once been worn and tired, struggling to raise their children with very little money, their cheeks drawn from lack of nourishment as often they went without so their children did not. Now their worries were minimal, and it showed on their faces. They smiled a great deal these days. It warmed Daniel from the inside.
Both tall, with graying hair, they were loved desperately by their offspring and grandchildren.
“I heard from Will that there was another altercation between you and the Deville brothers?”
“Not an altercation, and it is done with, Oliver,” Daniel said, taking a seat beside his father. “Now is not the time to discuss that.”
“The children are not listening,” his father said, “so it is the perfect time. I wish to hear what this is about.”
“It was nothing,” Daniel said, reaching for a cake. He took a large bite so he couldn’t speak. His mother poured him tea, then patted his hand after she’d handed it to him, which was her way of showing support.
“It was something,” Oliver said with the dogged determination he’d had all his life. He went on to explain in detail what had happened. What surprised Daniel was how accurate his facts were.
“Will was very concise in his details.”
“He was. I wish you had told me, however,” Oliver said, looking grim. “It is the second time they have confronted you, and I won’t tolerate a third.”
“I don’t need you involved in this or fighting my battles, Oliver. The Deville brothers are simply protective of their sister and have seen my behavior as a threat, which I assure you it is not.” If only they knew. “I’m sure we would act no differently if a crazed man tried to stab one of our family members.”
“You could have been harmed.” Oliver frowned. “And while I told Lady Abigail I believed her brothers’ actions were because they loved her, I—”
“I beg your pardon. When did you speak with her?” Stay calm.
“At the Upton ball.”
“Why?”
“We found ourselves standing together, so naturally we conversed.”
Christ. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow.
“I was not the target of that knife and wish to discuss this no further. I also have no wish for you to discuss it with Lady Abigail again, should you encounter her.”
“Oh, but it is just getting interesting,” Kate said. “Especially if the woman you speak of is the one that provoked his morose mood not many days ago.”
“No, it’s not interesting,” Daniel said.
“Daniel, your family cares for you, it is normal they would worry,” his father said.
“And yet, there is nothing to worry about, as I have said. The matter is closed for discussion, and I will not see the Deville family again, so the issue will not arise.”
“And yet you are my brother, my kin. It is in my right, as it is yours, to protect.”
“Aye,” Daniel said, because Oliver was right in that. He would do what it took to keep his family safe.
They continued to poke at him with questions. He ignored them and ate cake, grunting when absolutely necessary.
“He’s always been the hardest to crack.” Peter looked disgruntled. “The coolest of us. I’m sure he has secrets that would shock us, but we’ll never know.”
Abby had told him to tell them he played the flute. Looking at the faces around him, he felt the love they had for him. It was there in the gestures and words. Why, then, did he feel a need to hold himself back from them in small ways? To keep secrets that were his alone, and yet would harm no one if they were shared.
“Not always,” Mary said. “Once he was as hotheaded as you, Peter. Do you remember how there were weeks when he came home bloodied and bruised? There was