Page 47 of Counting on Love

A hell of a thing? Reginald wasn’t certain he’d heard right. He hated asking Father to repeat himself when it was so difficult for him to speak. “What is?”

“Dying.”

Reginald blinked. His eyes watered threateningly.

Father went on, “Crispin said,” he cleared his throat, “better than dead.” He laughed, short and chesty, then coughed. “Not so sure.”

Reginald hoped his father wasn’t looking to him for some sort of homily on the soothing delights of Heaven. Especially as the sun was casting a disturbingly brilliant sliver of light on the carpet like some sort of omen. Or like Jacob’s ladder.

“Well,” he told his father, “I’ve learned not to argue with Crispin.”

“Ha!” He patted the arm of his chair, a gesture meaning Reginald should sit. He lowered himself into the chair he’d brought near. “What…a hunt?”

“Yes. Today we attempted to hunt. Jasper invited the Willowsetts. Jeremy suffered a fall at the hedge.”

“Better seat,” he sputtered.

“I thought so too. But…” he stopped and turned up his hands. He didn’t want to upset the Earl with tales that the Squire’s boys were bothering Olivia. Probably today had been the last of that. “Accidents happen.”

Father nodded, the movement emphasizing the sagging of his face. Noticing that a trail of drool had trickled from the downturned corner of his father’s lip, Reginald picked up a handkerchief from the blanket and dabbed the side of his father’s mouth, then lifted the eyepatch back into place.

“Would you like me to read to you? I thought, perhaps, from Psalms?”

“No.” He breathed noisily. “Talk.”

“All right.” Reginald tensed. “About anything in particular?”

“Lady Georgiana.”

He tried to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. “That topic is best directed to Jasper, don’t you think?”

“Crispin says.” He paused to breathe. “Too good for him.”

Reginald snorted. “Well, Crispin would say that.”

His father half smiled. “Pretty child. Good parents. But.”

“But?”

“Hasty.”

“Well.” He thought a moment, then said, “Jasper is not one to dawdle once he’s made up his mind.”

“Heh.” After a moment’s silence, he said, “Tell me.”

“All right. Lady Georgiana is a beauty. A rare beauty. Fair with just a little red in her hair.”

“Fiery?”

“No. She’s very proper,” he assured him. Then amended, “Without being prim.”

“Clever?”

Reginald stopped himself from saying he believed she was intelligent rather than clever. He didn’t know for sure that she had been reading Newton. “I expect so. I haven’t spent much time with her, but she speaks well.”

The Earl grunted.

Reginald said, “I’m sure she’ll make him a splendid wife. Mother thinks so.”