“That’s enough,” he grated.
There was silence immediately. Eliza stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Clayton set down the wine with a clack.
“It’s rare enough that our gracious Viscount Henley – my own son, mind you – honours us with his presence. You rarely come home, boy. What have you to say for yourself?”
Clayton held his father’s eye steadily. “My estate requires work, Father.”
Auric gave a snort. “Don’t try and fool me. I know what you’re doing. Flirting with ladies – some respectable, most not – and drinking yourself into a stupor. If your mother’s fool brother saw fit to leave you his estate and his title, that’s his concern. Run it into the ground if you want, I care not.”
Clayton had inherited the title of Viscount Henley, along with his uncle’s large estate, on the event of the man’s death. Uncle Henley, as Clayton had known him, had stopped visiting once his sister died. There had apparently been some letters sent, from the uncle to the nephew, but Clayton had never received them. They’d almost certainly been reduced to ashes in the grate of Auric’s study. Best not to think of that.
The gist of it was that Clayton was a rich man. He had been since he was nineteen and had spent the past seven or eight years enjoying himself and avoiding his father.
Unfortunately, if he wanted to see Amelia and Edward, he couldn’t avoid the man forever. Annoyingly, Clayton found that he did want to see his wretched little half-brother and half-sister, and so here he was. Enjoying a delightful family meal.
“Thank you, Father,” Clayton answered evenly. “Tonight has been wonderful, but I fear I must take my leave.”
“Do as you will,” Auric snapped. “The children are going to bed anyway.”
Edward, who had only just started on his dessert, opened his mouth to argue, but a frantic glare from his sister made him close his mouth again. The children obediently hopped downfrom the table, with Eliza rising to see them to bed. Tossing his napkin on the table, Clayton rose too.
“Don’t forget my birthday, Clay,” Amelia whispered, as they shuffled towards the dining room door together. “You promised me a present.”
“I shall not forget.”
In the cool hallway outside, Clayton turned towards the door, but a hand on his arm stopped him.
“Auric is right,” Eliza said quietly. “You live a reckless life, Clayton.”
“You sound jealous, my dear step-mamma.”
“I am not. You ought to be married. You ought to settle down.”
“My uncle never did.”
“And see what a mess was made of his estates when he passed.”
Clayton grinned, an expression he knew would make him look wicked in the dim hallway light.
“Forgive me, but I don’t much care what happens when I die. It’s not as if I’ll be around to witness it. Can ghosts feel shame, do you think?”
“Stop it. Your father intends to talk to you about this sooner or later. He wants to see you married.”
“My father holds no sway over me.”
Eliza tightened her jaw. “Don’t be too sure about that. Think on what I’ve said, Clayton. Please?”
“Of course I’ll think about it,” Clayton lied. “Do excuse me, step-mamma. My club is calling.”
Eliza sighed heavily. “Are you ever going to grow up?”
He grinned, dancing towards the door. “Not if I can help it.”
*********
White’s was abuzz with energy. The night was well along,and with the Season just starting, so everybody was coming to town. Clayton shouldered his way in and stood on tiptoes, trying to peer over the heads of other gentlemen to spot his friends. He caught sight of his own reflection and paused to adjust his hair.
It was important not to delve too deeply into dandyism, but Clayton was entirely too handsome not to know about it. Ladies fluttered at him, and gentlemen either wanted badly to be his friend or hated him on sight. Both made for interesting evenings.
