Lord Everton frowned. “You must have an opinion now that you are your father’s heir. Soon, you will be immersed in politics and your vote matters greatly.”
“My father still has many years ahead of him.”
“I thought something similar when I was your age, but my father died of a heart attack quite unexpectedly.” Lord Everton gave him a pointed look. “You would be wise to remember that. No one knows what the future holds. Death is no respecter of persons.”
Lady Everton’s voice was tight as she said, “Dear, I do believe we have spoken enough of politics this evening, and death.”
Lord Everton nodded. “Very well.” He picked up his spoon and dipped it into the bowl. “Pray tell, Rushcliffe, how did you occupy your time before you became your father’s heir?”
Greydon knew he couldn’t reveal that he worked as a Bow Street Runner so he settled on, “I engaged in the usual pursuits of a second son, I suppose.”
“Interesting,” Lord Everton said before taking a sip of his soup. It was evident that he was not impressed by his admission. It was expected of younger sons to obtain employment to support themselves and their families. Not doing so would cause them to be a drain on their family’s finances.
Malcolm spoke up. “Rushcliffe and I occasionally go boxing at Gentleman Jack’s club,” he shared.
“Is that what we do?” Greydon joked. “I thought it was just an opportunity for me to hit you and little else.”
Rubbing his jaw, Malcolm responded, “It does feel an awful lot like that.”
“You poor thing,” Rosamond cooed as she placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
Lord Everton glanced at Malcolm before saying, “That is foolhardy since Lord Rushcliffe appears to be twice your size.”
Malcolm puffed out his chest. “We are of similar size,” he said. “I’m surprised more people don’t get us confused.”
“I daresay that you need spectacles,” Rosamond teased as she removed her hand.
“You wound me, my dear,” Malcolm said, feigning outrage.
Rosamond laughed. “You will live.”
Malcolm exchanged a look with his wife and returned her smile. “I am glad that you are here to keep me humble.”
“Always, my love,” Rosamond said, her words leaving little doubt of how much she adored her husband.
Greydon noticed that Lady Enid was eating her soup and she had a sad look in her eyes. He leaned closer and whispered, “Is everything all right?”
“It is,” she replied quickly, making him think that everything was most assuredly not all right.
But before he could press her, Lord Everton asked, “Have you scheduled your brother’s funeral yet?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Greydon replied. “But the body has not been released by the coroner so it might be a few more days.”
“Yes, Sir David is known to be rather thorough with his investigations,” Lord Everton said. “I am just sure you want to close this chapter and begin a new one as quickly as possible.”
“I am in no rush to bury my brother,” Greydon admitted.
“Were you close with your brother?” Lady Everton asked.
Greydon shook his head. “Not particularly,” he revealed. “We were very different people and that manifested itself as we grew older.”
Lady Everton gave him a sad smile. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“Brothers may share the same blood but they are not obligated to enjoy one’s company,” Greydon said. “Phineas’ path was not one that I wished to join him on.”
“Your brother was a cad,” Lord Everton stated.
Lady Everton gave her husband a disapproving look. “That is rather harsh of you to say since Lord Rushcliffe is still grieving his brother.”
