Page 61 of The Rules of Courtship
“I intended to.” Samuel pulled out a snuffbox and took a pinch. “It was why I sacrificed raiding your cabinets to lay in wait for you here.”
“Rather early for a drink. It is not even ten in the morning, Sam.”
“That is another reason,” he said, flashing a grin.
Oliver could not help but laugh. They began making theirway down the corridor and up the stairs. The ride, paired with his cousin’s support, went a long way toward making him feel better.
“How have you been?” Samuel asked.
“I am not the one who is ill.”
Samuel gave him a wry look. “Well, perhaps not. But there is a good deal going on in your life. Surely you do not expect to be unaffected.”
“I am anything but that,” he admitted. The sound of Aunt Harding’s voice filtered through the door, her shrill tone already driving his shoulders up around his neck. “Is your father here, too?”
“Yes. He and Uncle Charles have gathered.”
“And Aunt Rose?” Oliver asked.
“She chose to remain home.”
“Is there a particular reason they are ignoring the doctor’s advice and overwhelming the captain with too many visitors at one time?”
“You’ve met my parents,” Samuel said easily.
It was true. The Hardings were the most difficult of his relations. Aunt Harding was Uncle Charles’s sister and utterly ridiculous, but her husband was no better. They had struggled most of all when Grandmother had left her estate to Oliver, but thankfully had not gone so far as to cut him directly. Yet. If they knew the truth of things, they would find a way to lay blame at Oliver’s feet, and he did not need to be the reason for further division within his family.
“Shall I remain out here?” Samuel asked.
“I would prefer not to face them alone.”
Samuel nodded, following Oliver into the room. It was too warm, the drapes still pulled shut to contain the warmth and keep out the sunlight. A branch of candles was lit and resting on a small table beside the bed, throwing an orange glow over Captain Rose’s gaunt face. His eyes were half open, looking athis relatives. Another few candles were lit on the mantel, the mirror behind them throwing more light into the room.
“Is it a foreign disease?” Aunt Harding asked, seated on a chair far removed from her brothers and holding a handkerchief to her nose.
“We are not certain of the origin,” Uncle Charles said patiently. “But it is possible. Though Dr. Burnside believes that if it was contagious, the family who cared for William in Thistledale would have contracted it as well.”
“Oliver, come in,” Uncle Harding said, noticing them near the door.
Aunt Harding looked at him swiftly. Had she been informed that Oliver was apprised of the truth last night? He had run away, too fearful to ask additional questions, but now he was ready for the whole of it.
“Perhaps Samuel ought to leave. There are too many people in here,” Aunt Harding said.
“We are all family,” Uncle Charles said evenly. “Come in and sit down.”
Oliver remained standing. “I’m glad you are all here. I have quite a few questions, and I assume, between the three of you, that you’ll be able to answer every one of them.”
Silence fell over the room, each pair of eyes resting directly on him.
“Are we certain?—”
“Sister,” Uncle Charles snapped. “It is time.”
“Tell the boy everything,” Captain Rose rasped from the bed. “He deserves the truth.”
“What do they mean, Oliver?” Samuel asked.
Oliver glanced at his golden-haired, confused cousin, and gestured to the chairs resting against the wall. “You might want to sit down. I recently learned that Captain Rose is not actually my father.”
