Page 30 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“Why wasn’t I notified before of this?”

“He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“But I am not ‘anyone’,” Corbyn said, his voice rising. “I am his son!”

Simon had the decency to look ashamed. “I understand, but you know how Father gets.”

“Are you sure this isn’t one of Father’s tricks to get me to come home?”

With a shake of his head, Simon replied, “I have spoken to the doctor myself, and Father has been bedridden for the past few days.”

Corbyn lowered himself onto the settee. “I know I have been at odds with Father for a long time, but I would never wish death upon him.”

“You need to come home and see him before it is too late.”

“I understand.”

Simon rose and tugged down on his maroon waistcoat. “Perhaps when you return home to speak to Father, you will remember that you belong there.”

“I doubt it.”

“Please think it over,” Simon said.

There was something in his brother’s voice that caused Corbyn to hesitate. It almost sounded like a hint of a plea, something he would never have thought possible.

“I will,” he promised, “but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Simon tipped his head. “I shall see myself out, then.” He walked over to the door. “Mother is struggling right now, and she could use your support. I am not entirely sure why, but you have always been her favorite.”

“I don’t believe that to be true.”

“She writes you every week, without fail,” Simon said. “Whereas we have gone weeks without speaking to each other, and we live in the same home.”

“That is because I am the prodigal son.”

“It is more than just that.” Simon placed his hand on the door handle. “Sometimes I wonder who the lucky one is,” he mused, glancing over at Corbyn with sadness in his eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“My future has been predetermined, but you have the freedom to choose.”

“We both have the freedom to choose,” Corbyn pressed.

“I don’t,” Simon replied in a low voice. He blinked, and his expression became hard again. “It is time that you recognize that we honor our father by doing right by him.”

“Even if our father is wrong?”

“You have always had a skewed sense of reality, Brother,” Simon mocked, opening the door. “Father is not the villain that you make him out to be.”

Corbyn let out a disbelieving huff. “Give my regards to Mother.”

“Give them to her yourself when you attend Aunt Diana’s ball tomorrow evening,” Simon stated. “You are planning on attending, aren’t you?”

“I am not sure yet.”

Simon gave him a disbelieving look. “You would be willing to forego our aunt’s ball and dishonor her so tremendously?”

“Calm down, Brother,” he mocked. “It is only a ball.”

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