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Nicholas followed him through the door, into the study. A fresh wave of memories washed over him. These richly paneled walls had closed in on him when he’d come to ask Lord Stratton formal permission to court Catherine. How the man had laughed at that. “As if she would allow me to forbid it” had been Stratton’s response. Nicholas had been so relieved.
Lord Stratton had stood by the window when Nicholas had come to announce his commission. Stratton’s shoulders had stiffened, and he had not turned. “Does she know?” Then when Nicholas had come to say goodbye that rainy night. Stratton had pulled him close, hugging him tight before releasing him. “You are a son to me, Nick. Stay safe. For all our sakes.”
Nicholas sank into the chair by the fireplace, wiping a hand over his face. He was sweating, though no fire burned in the grate. He was certain Stratton held the answers, but Nicholas didn’t know where to start. He revered this man. They loved the same woman.
“Sirs, your tea.” Edwards entered, setting down the tray on the table between the two chairs. He poured, splashing a little milk into Stratton’s tea, leaving Nicholas’s black.
“Anything else, my lord?”
“No, that will be all, thank you.” Lord Stratton eyed Nicholas, raised the cup, and sipped. Then he shifted his attention to the empty grate.
“So, Nick, was the army everything you hoped it would be?”
The army? Nicholas had not come here to talk of his time in the military. Of course, Stratton didn’t know that. It made sense that he would ask about his time on the continent. They’d not had an opportunity to talk one-to-one since he’d come home to Woodfield.
“It was nothing that I hoped. The threat from Napoleon is a stark reality, and we must fight his aggression. I’m proud to have done my part.” He paused. If he was truly proud, why did he feel sick when he thought of it? He stared at Stratton’s profile. He might understand. “But the actuality of war, sir, is death and destruction.” Nicholas thought of Badajoz—all those lives wasted.
“It is a young man’s folly to believe war will make him a better man or lead to his elevation in society. For a few, perhaps. Wellesley comes to mind. Although, I would not have been able to convince you of that. You were too busy trying to prove yourself worthy.”
Nicholas left his tea untouched. Catherine and her father were exceptionally close. She would not have agreed to a betrothal with Daniel without Stratton’s permission. Here sat another layer of betrayal. Why had Nicholas not thought of that before? Unexpected anger bubbled.
“You knew she had agreed to become Daniel’s wife.”
Stratton’s profile hardened, and he nodded.
“How could you allow that? You love her, you love both of—” He choked on the words.
“You were gone a long time. Things change. Life unfolds.” He looked tired as he faced Nicholas, his eyes that dark forest of emotion so like his daughter’s. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why, Nick?” He shook his head and waved away the words. “Of course you have. But have you ever asked her?”
