Page 24 of Counting on Love

Chapter Seven

Everyone at Chaumbers was on edge, from the Countess on down to the lowliest scullery maid. Reginald tried to be patient with his mother’s sharpness, his sister’s tears, the burnt toast, and the watery coffee. He was patient. But, sitting down in the empty breakfast parlor, having scooped a pile of cold eggs and limp kippers onto his plate, he found a card at his place marked with his brother’s scrawled hand: Please come to the study at your earliest convenience, and even Reginald’s patience finally snapped.

The hell.

He choked down two mouthfuls, then pushed the plate aside and rose. He stomped to the study, flung open the door, and marched to the desk where his startled brother waited.

He dropped the card on Father’s desk.

“A summons, Jasper? Go to the devil. If this is how it will be—”

“What are you talking about?”

“This.” He gestured to his brother, seated in his father’s chair. “That!” He pointed to the card.

Jasper still looked bewildered. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Then come ask me. Don’t leave me a damn card. You are not yet Iversley.”

Jasper picked up the card and tore it in two. He muttered an oath.

“A bit tetchy this morning, are we, Reg?” He sounded even more irritated than Reginald felt. “Did Cook forget to bake your rolls again?” He shifted in his chair. Father’s chair. “Sit down. Or don’t. I don’t give a damn.”

Reginald sat. His legs felt wobbly, and his chest was tight. Moreover, his eyes burned. The hell! Jasper turned his attention to a pile of papers on his desk—the desk, not his, but Father’s—and said nothing for a few moments.

Reginald steadied his breath. “I’m not prepared for any of this.”

“You think I am? Damn it, Reg. I’m going to need a little help. How would you prefer for me to ask for it? I’ve been up since before dawn. I don’t have time to lounge in the breakfast parlor until you put in an appearance. Would sending Finley or Peters for you have suited you better?”

No. Of course not. “I overreacted,” he admitted stiffly. He was not used to being the one owing an apology to either of his brothers.

Jasper sniffed. “Whatever you may think, I am not chomping at the bit to take the Earl’s place.”

“I know you’re not.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.” He flicked his hand. “Maybe buy your own chair.”

Jasper stared at him a moment, then pursed his lips. “I’ll put it on my list of things to do.” He pulled his hand through his hair, mussing it, which brought a hitch to Reginald’s throat. His brother looked exhausted.

Reginald asked, “You haven’t heard from Crispin, have you?” They could really use Crispin.

“Not a word.”

“Well,” he sighed, “he’ll just show up. That’s his way.”

“He’d better show up soon.” His brother scowled and drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair, not absently but purposefully, as though his agitated motion could hurry Crispin along. Reginald couldn’t tell if Jasper simply wanted additional brotherly support, or if he was worried Crispin…would not make it home on time. He leaned forward and reached for Jasper’s fingers, laying his hand on them for a moment to stop the drumming.

“Do you think Father’s worsening?”

They had thought he would die. Those first few days, he woke only to murmur and groan. Mother and Olivia spoon-fed him pap. His valet took care of his other necessities until they hired a woman to tend to them. It had been…sad. So sad. But then, he seemed to revive. They were able to prop him up in bed. His nurse and valet were even able to move him into a chair by the window for half an hour at a time. And he could make himself understood, though he didn’t say much. They all took turns sitting with him. Jasper talked to him about the estate, asking a few questions, but nothing of importance. Reginald read to him—from the Bible. Reginald liked Scripture well enough; some of it was quite beautiful. But reading it like that, at his father’s bedside, made him feel the worst sort of fraud.

“No,” Jasper said. “He seems the same. Bad, but the same. He’s a tough old coot.”

Reginald nodded. “So. What did you ‘summon me’ for?”

When Jasper’s lips twitched in half a smile, Reginald knew his apology was accepted.