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“Who else in the world looks like me?”
Mason’s eyes snapped open and Nathan was immediately on the back foot. What had he said wrong? Then Mason’s expression was schooled to his usual serene look and he nodded towards the closed door across the hall.
“Lady Brixton is in the drawing room. She’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“Thank you. Would you have the maids fill a bath for me? I need to get cleaned up.”
“Of course.”
Nathan rose to his feet and crossed the hall. He was still confused. Mason thought he looked like someone else. Harrison looked like he was terrified of his master. And Mason’s illness was more than an upset stomach.
What on earth had been going on while he was away?
* * *
Vanity was lying on the couch by the window, her eyes closed and her features soft as she slept. She was looking as worn out as Mason. Certainly, it did look like she had lost some weight. Nathan found himself staring. This was not the same woman he had left over a year ago. Even sleeping, Vanity Reynolds had fire.
Her maid Desiree sat beside her, reading a book. She looked up as Nathan came into the room. Her eyes widened and then narrowed. Dropping her book to the table beside her, she snatched up a paperknife and advanced on Nathan.
“You…” she snarled as she strode towards him. “I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”
“Whoa, Desiree, back up there!” Nathan jumped out of the way, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “What are you talking about?”
Desiree froze. Then she peered closely at his face. Nathan watched as comprehension dawned, and Desiree gasped, dropping the paperknife as her hands clamped over her mouth.
“Oh, my. Lord Brixton!”
“Oh, my, indeed.” Nathan picked up the knife. “Now, would you explain to me what that was all about?”
“I... forgive me.” Desiree dropped into a curtsy, her eyes not at the floor. “That was uncalled for.”
“I’ll say it was.”
Nathan frowned. He was used to the maid having fire in her veins. She had been like that ever since she first arrived, a perfect companion for his mother, but Desiree had looked ready to strike him.
Something was really wrong in this house, and then Nathan saw the bruise on Desiree’s cheek. It was fresh. It looked like someone had hit her recently. Nathan stared.
“What the...who hit you, Desiree?”
“What?” Desiree’s hand shot up to her cheek and her face went bright red. “Oh, that’s nothing. I collided with a door, that’s all. Wasn’t watching where I was going. Do you want to speak to Lady Brixton?”
“Please. She’s the reason I came home.”
“I’ll leave you be, then.” Desiree paused, glancing up at him. “Forgive me, my Lord.”
Then she practically ran from the room. Nathan stared after her. This was getting stranger by the minute. He had been sure that something was going on. At least he had listened to his gut.
“Nathan?”
Nathan turned. Vanity hadn’t moved off the couch, but she had opened her eyes. How much of that had she heard? Nathan smiled and approached her.
“Mother.”
Chapter Eleven
Kneeling beside the couch, Nathan kissed his mother’s cheek. Vanity looked just as relieved as Mason when Nathan drew back.
“What is going on here, Mother? First Mason nearly faints answering the door, then Harrison looks terrified at my presence, and now Desiree threatens me with the knife you use for opening letters. What’s all that about?”
