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And yet Reginald’s own father hadn’t seemed inclined to let his son continue dressing like one of London’s poor.
Reginald’s father replied, “That is too kind of you. Much too kind, Lady Greenburrow.”
Blaire inclined her head and continued smiling. “Shall I leave you and your son alone, so you can speak before the ball begins?”
Reginald wasn’t sure if being left alone with his father was preferable. Since his return, he and his father had a relationship which, while not cold, wasn’t quite friendly. Every day that passed, Reginald felt more and more that his father intended to mold him into something that he wasn’t and never would be.
Simon offered his arm, and his mother curled a delicate hand around the limb. “I’ll see you later, cousin.”
Cousin.
It seemed much too informal of an address, especially since Reginald had been gone for a decade, but he said nothing. Now wasn’t the time to think about or debate which man ought to bear which title, particularly considering the circumstances surrounding Reginald’s absence. Instead, he buried the past in the back of his mind, hoping that he’d linger on it no more but knowing also that he inevitably would.
“Yes,” Reginald said. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
Simon tipped his chin up, his expression haughty. “I always enjoy myself at these events.”
Reginald pressed his lips together and tried to recall if he particularly enjoyed balls. It was difficult to say. His only memories were of teasing and playing tricks on those who were older than him, and he couldn’t do that now. He was far too old for that, and really, his only purpose for being a part of this ball was to win Lady Marcella.
Blaire and Simon descended the stairs, their steps elegant and measured. They looked as if they belonged, and as he had hundreds of times before, Reginald had the acute sense that everyone belonged except for him.
“I’ve the utmost confidence in you,” Reginald’s father said, smiling. “I think your mother would be proud if she could see you tonight. You look quite like a gentleman.”
Reginald leaned against the bannister and gazed at the ballroom floor as if he might somehow make time itself cease.
Charles would have a simple meal, perhaps augmented from something he’d stolen. He had a fondness for butter. Edward was on odd fellow, who usually avoided dinner and instead ate only breakfast. And Isaac…
He wasn’t worth thinking about. He was a traitor.
“You look as though you’re lost in your thoughts,” Reginald’s father said.
He nodded absentmindedly. WhyhadIsaac betrayed them? Had the constables offered him something, or had he intended to betray them for years? It was difficult to say. It didn’t matter if he had no answer, but like everything else, he couldn’t seem to bury all his worries.
“Try to be more focused,” his father continued. “I know it’s difficult, and I can’t even imagine how you’ve suffered through the years. I know you must be afraid of this, too, but I promise that everything will be fine. It will be good for you to enjoy this ball. You’ll be able to remind yourself of what you really are.”
“And what,” Reginald said slowly, “will I do if what I really am isn’t what I once was?”
His father smiled. “We all change a little, but not in any huge ways. Everything you were when you disappeared is what you are today. The moon is no less the moon because she changes shapes.”
Reginald nodded. He heard doors opening and loud voices exchanging greetings. The first guests had arrived. His throat grew tight, and a knot twisted in his chest. The ball had begun, and to Reginald, it felt like a nightmare.
