“Mother can be a force of nature.”
“Quite similar to a hurricane, in fact.”
“And you think that’s happened to me?”
“I know it is.” Philip left the stove and leaned against the front of the desk. “Son, you have—and have always had—a tautly drawn sense of honor where those you care about are concerned. Thus the beating you gave the man who insulted Beth.”
Thomas shifted uncomfortably, but his father went on. “This is not necessarily a bad thing, but when Lady Rose appeared, she set off a barrage of unfamiliar feelings. You wanted to be with her, protect her, help her, respect her even as you wanted to possess her. Desire warred with propriety and manners... and common sense. You wanted to hold her close, but Lady Rose is a particularly prickly young woman, who thought the worst of you.”
“Still does.”
“And you did not know how to direct those feelings. What to do. Trying to engage her in her own cause did not go as expected. Thus, when the specter of Roger Bentley reared up as a barrier between you, you set about removing it in the only way you knew how.”
“Which brings me back to the question: you think this was a mistake?”
Philip shook his head and returned to his desk chair. “No. If I had, I would not have proceeded with it. But while you and Robert were working with Bill and going to events, I investigated Roger Bentley. He’s a bully, a bad businessman who has trod on a lot of people. His businesses are a house of cards, due for a major collapse, especially now, which would have hurt a lot of people. I saw a way to grow our businesses and perhaps shake that house of cards in a way that fewer people would feel the losses. That it would bring a bit of justice to a tragic event in the life of a woman you care about was a pleasant plus.”
“Even though it was my main reason for starting this?
“Even though. I love you, Thomas, and you are my son and heir. But I’m not about to risk our holdings because you cannot focus your heart and groin in the right direction.”
Thomas laughed. “That’s blunt.”
“You would expect no less.”
“True. So what do you see happening next?”
“With you or us?”
“Both.”
“Bentley is boxed in. He’s lost most of his power and is losing money. He will probably become violent next. We must stay vigilant. And you, dear boy, are about to have your heart broken.”
Thomas turned to look out the window again. “I’m coming to see that.”
“Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Good, because if you had said otherwise, you’d be lying. You can never fully be ready for something like that. Knowing it’s going to happen—and it happening—are two different things.”
Thomas nodded and checked the buttons on his greatcoat. “I’m going home.”
“Be careful.”
“I will see you at breakfast.”
Gripping his cane in his left hand, Thomas trotted down the steps to the first floor, passing through an office usually staffed with clerks busily keeping accounts and tracking shipments. The side door to the building opened near the side shed, and Thomas reached for Max’s muzzle as the horse nickered and bobbed his head in greeting, stomping one foot with impatience.
“Sorry, old friend. I didn’t mean to leave you so long.” Thomas checked the harness and saddle, pausing when he realized the saddle was loose. “What’s this?” His murmured words were almost affectionate as he stroked the horse’s neck and flank. “Don’t tell me we have snapped a strap while I’ve been upstairs.” He ran his fingers beneath the girth, which had far too much give. Thomas looked around, but the area was clear of people. He laid his cane on the saddle, pommel to cantle, then looped the stirrup up over it to hold the cane in place. Running his hands under Max’s belly, he found a dangling buckle, which had obviously been undone.
Alarm shot through him, and Thomas reached for his cane—to find it missing. He spun, bracing his back against Maximilian.
A large man stood before him, a docker from the looks of him, with thick arms and heavy woolen clothing stained with salt, blood, and tar. He held his left hand in front of his chest, the fist clenching and unclenching. The right was behind his back. He sneered. “Not much without that walking stick, are you?”
Thomas straightened, widening his stance. He tried to keep his hands and arms loose at his side. “What do you want? I don’t have much on me.”
He snorted a laugh and spoke off to his right. “He thinks we’re here to rob him!”
