Page 69 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
Chapter Twelve
They were seated at breakfast when an out-of-breath Grindle poked his head into the room. ‘Your Grace, you have a visitor.’
‘Who is it?’
Grindle looked uncomfortable, when he rarely showed any expression at all. ‘Lord Luke, Your Grace. I told him you were not at home as you instructed, but he barged in and said he would wait. I put him in the green drawing room, but he is threatening to come looking for you, if you won’t go to him.’
‘It is all right, Grindle,’ Julia said, soothingly. ‘We are finished here. We will go at once.’
‘There is no reason for you to see him,’ Alistair said.
The hurt in her expression was almost more than he could stand. ‘Come if you wish, but he won’t be staying long so there is no need to offer him refreshment.’
Wide-eyed, she stared at him, then nodded. ‘If that is your wish.’
He wanted to curse that look of disapproval when they had finally seemed to reach some sort of balance but instead offered his arm and escorted her to the drawing room.
Alistair froze at the sight of the blond, blue-eyed boy standing beside Luke. What new ploy was this? Since coming in to his title, the only time his family showed up on his doorstep was when they wanted money or to use his influence to their benefit. But bringing the boy? Was this his brother’s way of reminding him of his duty to his heir? ‘Luke. You want to see me?’
The boy gazed at him warily and then his gaze flicked to his father. His legal father.
‘Good to see you, too,’ Luke drawled.
‘How kind of you to call, Lord Luke,’ Julia said, stepping forward, holding out her hand. Alistair gritted his teeth at the warm smile she bestowed on his brother and, in his turn, the lad. A punishment, no doubt, for his rudeness. Holding his breath, he waited for Julia to really look. To see.
‘Your Grace, it is a pleasure.’ Luke bowed and the boy followed his lead.
Alistair drank in the sight of the boy, so young, yet trying so hard to be the perfect gentleman. A pang pierced his heart. A longing to know more of the boy. To have some hand in his upbringing. Luke was teaching him well, but Jeffrey did not look particularly happy. Still, it was understandable. What boy wanted to call on curmudgeonly uncles on a bright sunny day?
‘Please, do sit down,’ Julia said sinking on to the sofa.
‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ Luke took a seat on the sofa. The boy hopped up beside him, close enough to touch, as if seeking protection from his wicked ducal uncle. Bitterness rose in Alistair’s gullet.
‘Please, won’t you call me Julia since we are family? And, Jeffrey, how are you today?’
Alistair sat beside her, keeping a careful watch on his brother. Not that he thought the man would pull a pistol and shoot him in broad daylight before a witness. But he wasn’t taking any chances.
Luke ran a glance over Alistair. ‘I see the reports of you at death’s door were wrong.’
His brother didn’t look particularly well either. Far too skinny for his large frame. ‘Came to commiserate, did you? Or were you hoping to dance on my grave?’
Bleakness filled his brother’s face. ‘The latter, naturally.’
The boy squirmed.
‘This is the first day since the accident that Alistair has risen from his bed,’ Julia hastened to intervene, her face mirroring distaste at the awful things being spoken and those not spoken. ‘He received a bad blow to the head.’
‘Then I am surprised he suffered any ill effects,’ Luke muttered. ‘Being the most hard-headed individual of my acquaintance.’
Julia, curse her, smothered a smile.
He glared at his brother. ‘Tell me, Luke, exactly why are you here? And be quick about it. I am a busy man.’
‘I would prefer we discuss it in private.’
Ice filled Alistair’s veins. ‘Need money, do you?’
Julia gasped.
