Page 52 of The Trouble with a Dare

Raphe nodded and set down the book he’d been reading. “Only to be expected, though I am sorry to drag you out here for such a thankless task. Was it Lady Roxborough, per chance? I suspect the lady does not like me.”

“And this surprises you?” Rothborn said, moving into the room and easing into a chair by the fire. His damned leg was aching now, and it felt good to take the weight off. “From what I understand, you were so out of your damned head when Bainbridge and Roxborough hauled you down here that you didn’t know where you were for the best part of a week. I imagine Lady Roxborough—newly married and still in the honeymoon phase—was delighted to have such a charming house guest thrust upon her.”

“You never did mince your words, did you, my lord?”

The riposte was cool, with just a touch of amusement, but the tense set of his shoulders and the taut lines about his mouth told Rothborn another tale. Thank God. Inwardly, the baron relaxed just a little. If Raphe still had pride enough to feel shame for what he’d done, perhaps there was hope for him.

“To what end? Shall I pat you on the head and say there, there? You’re not a child any longer, but eight and twenty. Your father was a selfish ass, yes. You and half the bloody aristocracy. Live with it. You are killing yourself, and what worries me is you don’t seem to give a damn,” Rothborn said, aware that he had no authority over this young man, who would be well within his rights to tell him to go to the devil. But somebody had to try, and it appeared that somebody was him.

Raphe let out a breath of laughter. “My God, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be on the wrong side of one of your set downs. It is most… invigorating.”

“Invigorating,” Rothborn repeated, glaring at him. “If I were a younger man, I’d throw you in the bloody river outside and see how invigorating you found that. I recall the experience did Roxborough a deal of good.”

“Yes, but Dare had his angel of mercy to patch him up again. I do not,” Raphe replied, and whilst there was a deal of scorn behind the words, there was something else too.

Had that been jealousy?

Rothborn watched as the young man moved to take the chair opposite him, arranging his long limbs in a careless sprawl.

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you from following suit. It’s about time you settled down. Heaven knows there have been enough young women mad enough to wish to marry you, though why is beyond me.”

“It is my winning personality,” Raphe replied, giving him a wide smile that put Rothborn firmly in mind of dangerous creatures with fangs. “Perhaps I should take a punt at the sister? A twin, I believe. Is she as sweet and amiable as Lady Roxborough? An heiress, too, is she not? How fortuitous.”

Rothborn’s temper rose, and he stood, leaning heavily on his cane and glaring down at Raphe. “If you so much as look in that girl’s direction, I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget in a hurry. Age and gammy leg be damned. If you were everything you could be, perhaps I might promote such a match, but you’re ruining yourself by degrees, Raphe, and I’m damned if you’ll take a girl like that with you—any girl, come to that! Sort yourself out, for the love of God. You need to take a good hard look at yourself, for I’ve looked, and I don’t like what I see. Not one bit.”

Raphe was white-faced, his expression stiff. But, to give him his due, he did not retaliate, just took the bitter words and swallowed them. Rothborn could only pray they did him some good. He let out a curse and shook his head.

“Christ, but you make me feel like such a damned fusty old man,” he growled. “Do you think I wish to stand here and berate you? Only it makes me sick at heart to think of everything you could be.”

There was a contemptuous sound from Raphe.

“It’s true!” Rothborn insisted, knowing that this was at the heart of it. Raphe did not value himself, did not believe he was worth saving, worth anything. Why should he? His mother had accidentally killed herself with laudanum by the time the boy was ten and his father had shot himself in the head. His parents hadn’t given him or his brothers a second thought. Why should he believe anyone else cared? Rothborn cared a good deal, but all he ever seemed to do was shout at the blighter. Weary, and wretched with impotent grief, Rothborn sat down again. He leaned forward, though, lowering his voice, praying Raphe would listen. “I know you, Raphe. You’ve a good heart, a kind one, when you’re sober enough to pay it any heed. You’ve a brain in your head, too, or you’d not spend so much of your time with your head stuck in a damned book. I know life has been hard, but it could be so much better if you’d only give it a chance. If not for yourself, think of your brothers.”

At that, a look of pain tightened the lines about Raphe’s eyes, and he looked away.

“They’d be better off without me. One less mouth to feed. I’m little more than a drain on what’s left of the coffers.”

“Then do something about it, damn you,” Rothborn said impatiently.

“What?” Raphe demanded, emotion breaking through the impassive mask he’d worn until this point. “Tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do, for I swear to God, I don’t know! A gentleman doesn’t work, remember? Even if I knew how, and the thought of marrying for money—well, what a fine catch I’d make! Who the bloody hell would have me? Is that not a frightening thought?”

Rothborn let out a breath, somehow relieved by the desperation he heard, and the pain. Anything was better than that coolly amused detachment.

“Well, for one, you could stop behaving like a bloody parasite. Can you not see the amount of work going on here? I’m certain Roxborough would welcome your help if you asked him. Involve yourself in something. Get your hands dirty if you like. Get out in the fresh air and busy yourself with something. Anything. I’ve always found physical activity an excellent way of clearing the mind.”

“Work… on the building?” Raphe said slowly, as if the words were strange, and he wasn’t quite certain what they meant.

“Why not? Roxborough did it, enjoyed it too. It’s satisfying. You might find you like it, and if you want ideas on how to get your estate in order, talk to Bainbridge. He may be a loose screw, but you’ve got to give him his due. He runs his place with military precision.”

Raphe’s expression darkened, but he said nothing. Rothborn knew he hated asking for help, asking for anything. Too damned proud, that was the trouble.

“And for God’s sake, stay off the drink.”

“Yes, I had worked that one out for myself,” he said dryly. “Any other instructions?”

“Stay out of trouble,” Rothborn said, curt now. “I don’t want to have to do this again, Raphe. I… I don’t think I can do it again. You know, I’ve tried to do my best for you, tried to be a father to you, though I know I’ve not the right, but I am damned fond of you, and it pains me to see you ruin yourself. I won’t do it. Do you hear me? If you try to get yourself together, I’ll be here for you. Anything you want, you need only ask, but go back to destroying yourself and you’re on your own. I won’t be a part of it.”

Raphe’s jaw was tight, but he gave a sharp nod of understanding.