Page 27 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
Lord Frederick snorted. “Little good it will do me with no blunt.”
“Don’t you have any of your own? No investments? No smaller estates?” He couldn’t imagine still being reliant on his father for coin. “What do you do all day?”
“I’m terrible with business ventures, or so he tells me. I’ve always managed on my allowance, but if he quits…” Shoulders drooping, Lord Frederick breathed a loud sigh. “If I knew why he hated me so, I might be able to change his mind about me.”
“Do you have any friends who could help with your investments? Put your father off, say she’s decided to keep the horse until spring. It would give you some time.” Lucius frowned. Why was he helping this whiny, spiteful man? Or was it just a mask he wore to hide his pain?
Lucius had grown up in a loving household. He knew many who had not, though it didn’t give them the excuse to be cruel to others. This man—and Edward—had been raised with an unloving and strict father. Both had lost their mothers, and Lucius was beginning to realize how fortunate he was. He remembered his mother, her kindness and affection. What might he have been like without that maternal love? Without a father who loved him unconditionally?
Lucius shook his head, wondering how to help the duke’s son without helping him. He couldn’t be disloyal to his sister, who this man had ruined. He couldn’t betray Christiana by not returning with Vengeance.
“I think the time has come for you to become a man and stand on your own,” Lucius finally said, running a hand through his hair. “Have you ever asked your father why he treats you as he does? Perhaps it is your insecurities he hates so much. Have you ever asked your father for help in business matters?”
Lord Frederick stared at him as if he had two heads.
“Well?”
“No. I-I didn’t think he would give me an answer. Or I wouldn’t like what I heard.”
“So, a moment of truth is worse than this?” Lucius flung out his arm, indicating the man tied to a chair and the stable beyond. “Can you imagine what the broadsheets would do with an incident like this?”
“Crucify me as they did your sister.” Lord Frederick threw his head back and closed his eyes. “My life is a catastrophe.”
“Then fix it. Use your allowance for investments. Start slow, see what works, invest more. Hire a man to help you if you have no friends.” Lucius slapped his forehead with his palm. “You’re a duke’s son! Use your connections, use the title that will be yours someday, and be your own man. Before you become the Duke of Scuttleton.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Ha! Nothing worthwhile is easy. Those who make it look effortless are working hard behind closed doors.” Lucius untied the man’s hands, confident Lord Frederick wouldn’t be able to do any more harm. Today, anyway. “Grow up. People don’t like Frederick the boy. But they may like Frederick the man. Find out who he is and take control of your own life.”
Lord Frederick rubbed his wrists and gave Lucius a side-glance. “I want to do better.”
“Then do it.”
“I suppose you’ll tell everyone what happened here?” Lord Frederick’s pale-blue eyes pleaded. “I’ll never have the opportunity to right the wrongs I’ve done if they get wind of this in Town.”
Lucius shook his head. Against his better judgment, he would show mercy. It was what his sister would want him to do. Maybe. Probably. “I’ll have to tell Lady Winfield, but she’s no gossip. We can keep it between us. If anyone asks, we’ll call it a misunderstanding.”
“Thank you, Lord Page.” Lord Frederick stood and offered his hand. “You are kinder than I deserve.”
“Don’t make me regret it.” The snow had stopped. Lucius tossed some coins on the rough wooden table and put on his greatcoat. “What will you do?”
“Take your advice. Father isn’t expecting me until after Twelfth Night, so I may call upon some friends as you mentioned. Perhaps have a plan before I go home.” His eyes held regret. “I didn’t mean for that fiasco to happen with your sister. She didn’t deserve the notoriety I forced upon her.”
“You’re apologizing to the wrong person,” Lucius said, tugging on his hat. “Though if you do make amends with my sister, I suggest keeping your distance. Her right punch has only gotten stronger.”
CHAPTER 12
Christiana sat by the parlor room window, looking out onto the drive. On any other day, she would enjoy the pristine white covering the drive and front lawn. But today, the weather only brought uneasiness because Lord Page was somewhere battling the gusty winds. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as every terrible scenario went through her head. Lucius in a snowdrift with broken bones. Lucius knocked unconscious by Lord Frederick. Well, that may be farfetched. Lucius shot by Lord Frederick. She was still in shock after learning Lord Frederick had stolen Vengeance and prayed the horse would soon be home. Truly, they couldn’t have gotten farther than the village with the incoming storm.
A tiny dark form appeared in the distance between the trees lining the drive. As it drew near, she could see two horses. Lord Page’s black gelding and the white stallion. There was no rider on Vengeance. Had Lucius killed the duke’s son? Her hand flew to her mouth before she scolded herself. No, of course he hadn’t.
She pulled the bell, then instructed the maid to fetch her mantle. Minutes later, she was walking down the portico steps to meet Lord Page.
“My kingdom for a horse,” she cried out as he came within earshot. A gust tugged at her hood, and tiny icicles flew from the overhead branches, biting her cheeks. Above, puffy gray clouds threatened more snow, but she no longer cared. Lucius had returned the hero. Relief came off her like a wet woolen cloak.
“And I was looking for a kingdom. How fortuitous,” Lucius answered, his smile warming her, though his nose was red as a baked apple.
Christiana grasped Vengeance by the halter and stroked his long nose, murmuring softly to him. “I promised you no harm would come to you again, though it wasn’t my doing this time.”
