Page 30 of Counting on Love

“Crispin, eat something. For Heaven’s sake. You can’t afford to get any thinner.”

Crispin’s face darkened. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively mild. “I eat what agrees with me, Mother. And we will not discuss it further.”

“If you do not care to eat what is served,” she said, ignoring his warning, “at least inform Cook of your preferences. I won’t have you starve.”

He put an apple slice in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, before answering, “I won’t starve.” Then he added grudgingly, “We simply do not eat so richly on campaign. Adam will make a list for Cook if it isn’t too much trouble.”

Mother’s expression softened into concern. “Of course, it isn’t any trouble, Crispin. I wish you would—”

“Who the devil is Adam?” Jasper interrupted.

“My batman. Or, for now, my valet.”

“What happened to Richard?” Olivia asked with a giggle. Richard had been a charity case at best, and shifty at worst. But Crispin had claimed he was level-headed and fair with his pistols, which was more important than knowing which cuff buttons went with which shirt. Then her eyes widened a little. “He’s all right, I hope.”

“Richard is perfectly fine. He went home to his sweetheart, I believe.”

“And where did you pick up this ‘Adam?’” Jasper asked. “He must be half decent. Your boots are shined, and your neckcloth is sufficiently well knotted.”

Crispin smiled. “Thank you, dear brother. I knotted it myself.” He dropped the smile. “Adam came to me by recommendation. He suits.”

“Where have you been hiding him?”

“I expect he’s been with your Alfred and Reginald’s Barclay, learning what he needs to know about working in this old pile. Don’t look so skeptical. He has strict manners and is exceptional at making himself scarce. Your houseguests will never see him.”

Jasper shrugged. “He’s your valet, not mine.”

Reginald decided he had nothing to add, so kept quiet. But he did wonder how Crispin’s valet was going to tackle Cook. Handing her a list? He’d like to see the woman’s face.

When dinner drew to a close, Mother and Olivia excused themselves to sit with Father. The boys retired to the study. Jasper poured himself a brandy, cast a look at both his brothers in turn, then stoppered the bottle as they took their seats, Reginald plunking himself onto the davenport and Crispin perching on its rolled arm.

Jasper drained his glass and set it down before focusing his scowling attention on his middle brother.

“We are trying not to upset Mother. Couldn’t you have simply put a bit of gravy in your mouth?”

Crispin responded, “What exactly do you intend to do about Vanessa?”

A long silence followed. Neither bent an inch.

Finally, Jasper looked toward the wall and said, “Did you know I’ve put Reg in charge of the accounts?”

“Reg?” Crispin gave a mock horrified start. “The accounts? I suppose old Bradwell has been slacking?”

“He’s dead.”

That wiped the smirk from Crispin’s face. “Damn.” He considered a moment. “What about Benjamin Carroll?”

“Still in Canada. Won’t be here until July. I decided Reg could take first crack at it.”

“Damn.” Crispin laced his fingers together and stared at the ground. After a minute had passed, he looked up. “I’m going to bed. I’m spent. Tomorrow, tell me what you need for me to do.”

“You’ll just do it, I’m sure, before I realize what to ask. Thank you for taking Olivia out.”

Crispin’s mouth tightened. “She’s my sister too.”

Reginald said, “Well, there will be houseguests.” He echoed Jasper. “Just try to make yourself pleasant.” Then he stood. “Long day. I’ll look in on Father, then I’m going off too.”

They left Jasper pouring himself another glass of brandy.