“He … was … following me.” Simon knew it. He had encouraged Nicholas to be more like himself. The boy must have come to visit him in his room and seen the window Simon had left open. The window he had left open so he might sneak back in. And Nicholas had decided to be brave, so he had followed Simon to join him on an unknown adventure. But he was a small boy who had misjudged the distance to the trellis.
Lord Blackwood grunted, approaching the bed to reach out a trembling hand toward the leg. “Is he …” For the first time in his life, Simon witnessed his father overcome.
“He lives yet. MacNaby has sent for a doctor.”
The baron nodded, his eyes moist as he stared down at his youngest son. Simon wished the old man would rage at him, blame him for what he had done in leading his little brother astray. Lord Blackwood must have realized what had transpired, but instead he plopped down on the edge of the bed and panted in shock, as if his emotions were attacking his aged body.
The next few hours were a blur. The doctor arrived, his face grim as he examined the boy. Eventually, he set the leg. Nicholas mumbled a little when the bone was pushed back in place but did not awaken despite what must have been agonizing pain. Once the leg was set, the doctor stepped out into the hall to discuss the situation with Lord Blackwood. Simon joined them.
“There is bruising on the boy’s head, but little that can be done. It is a matter of time before we know his condition. The hope is that he awakens in the next few hours. If he does not … there is no method to predict head injuries, I am afraid. It is a matter of time.”
His father nodded at the news, his expression distant. “What of the leg?”
“A very bad break. It is certain the boy will have a limp, but it is the head injury that worries me most. With a situation like this … you should prepare yourself for the worst, my lord.”
Simon’s stomach clenched into a tight knot, but he kept his wits about him, noting the doctor’s instructions with great attention to detail, including the administration of the laudanum he provided. He was battling with a dark tide of emotion threatening to drag him under, but he had to be present and take care of Nicholas, and he could not afford the luxury of lamenting his role in his little brother’s downfall. His tiny brother who looked up to him.
His mother arrived to see her youngest boy but became hysterical when she saw he had still not awakened, so Lord Blackwood led her away. “Come my dear, perhaps a little laudanum would do your nerves some good.”
Some hours later, in the early hours of the morning, Simon sat alone beside Nicholas’s bed to keep vigil. His brother was pale and vulnerable beneath the covers. Full of life and energy just hours earlier—Simon would give anything for the boy to open his eyes and say something.
He thought about how he had encouraged his little brother to break the rules and buck authority and, without warning, his guilt resurfaced as he bowed his head to weep, his shoulders shuddering with the force of it. If Nicholas died, it would be his fault. He had done this!
I am a selfish bastard.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Simon got down on his knees, clasping his hands together to pray.
Please, Lord! I am sorry for my hubris! I promise to do my duty if you allow Nicholas to live!
CHAPTER 1
“When you opened your eyes, you saw love itself, and now you have lost it.”
Lucius Apuleius,Metamorphoses
JULY 19, 1821
“Nicholas, I wish to speak with you.”
Simon’s tone was hostile, but it had been two days since he had last seen his little brother.
Not so little anymore.
Nicholas topped Simon by an inch, but he appeared taller yet. His form was lean—too lean. His habits of carousing for days on end, and barely eating, were evident and, in Simon’s opinion, the youngest Scott was abusing spirits.
Simon had attempted to have his allowance curtailed to limit his habits, but John had been insistent that Nicholas was a young buck sowing his wild oats. John was now the master of their household, so after some heated debates, Simon had relented and agreed to abide by the new baron’s wishes. This did not mean he was not seeking other avenues to address the crisis that was forming in front of his eyes—clouds were building on the horizon, and it was only a matter of time before the storm burst.
“You shall have to join me in the library then, old chap.”
Simon experienced a flash of guilt as Nicholas limped down the hall. Striding to catch up with his younger brother, he entered the room to find Nicholas at the drinks cabinet pouring a port.
“It is eight in the morning—a little early for drinking?”
Nicholas shrugged, then limped over to a settee to drop down and nurse his drink in an insolent sprawl. “It depends on your perspective. For you, it is the start of the day. For me, it is the end of a very late night.”
Simon could not help it. He rubbed his face as he tried to find words—new words—that would somehow penetrate the cloud of alcohol that buzzed around his brother’s head. And perhaps laudanum, too.
In his estimation, his family relied too much on both, not to mention rich foods, and they suffered from the ill effects. Simon made it a point to take care of himself and not fall into such bad habits, but being surrounded by relations in a perpetual state of inebriation took its toll on his peace of mind.
