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Langdon tossed the long-held remnants of cognac and stood. “Well, my lord. I do believe you have more important business to see to than this old soldier.” He saluted. “I shall go find your man Fredericks and see where he would like me to park this tired carcass.”
Nicholas stood, grinning at Langdon, who was swaying before him. Not a man used to drink, Langdon wobbled precariously.
“We’ll sort you out in the morning. Take my bed tonight.” Nicholas paused, contemplating the adjoining door, finally ready to take action. “I don’t intend to use it.”
Langdon saluted again. Nicholas strode to the exit, stepped into the shared sitting room, and pulled the bedroom door closed. Darkness blanketed him. No candle sat aflame, no fire burned. No light shone beneath the opposite door either. He moved cautiously toward it, his heart beating a staccato rhythm. He did not deserve her, but he wanted her anyway. He hoped she still wanted him.
He knocked lightly on the door, pressing his ear against the panel. Silence. He stayed like that for a full minute, but there was no stirring. Perhaps she was sound asleep? He pushed open the door. The room sat in utter blackness. He moved cautiously toward where he knew the bed lay until his legs made contact with the frame. Then he stood perfectly still, sure she would sense his presence, register his breathing. His own breath whispered back at him.
Carefully he climbed the bed. He did not want to startle her or even disturb her. He just longed to be near her. If he could curl up close, he would deal with the explanation in the morning. Gingerly stretching out on the bed, he reached across, anticipating contact. His hand fell to the coverlet.
He inched toward the center of the bed. Nothing. He sat up, patting the mattress as if she was a small animal that might be balled up in some corner. She was not here.Where the hell was she?He knew the answer before he finished the thought. She’d left him. She’d gone to Stratton Hall. He lay down and pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly. Gone. As she should be. As he deserved.
*
He lay staringat the ceiling as dawn lightened the room. The night had been long, but he was now resolved. He would fetch Catherine. She had no right to hold last night against him after all her lies. His transgression was an unfortunate circumstance; her offenses were blatant and numerous. They must put it all behind them and make the best of it.
Throwing back the cover, he hopped off the bed and pulled his robe tight. He wanted no more incidents. He strode through the sitting room, pausing at his own door. He leaned his head against the frame, fighting a rush of defeat. Why was it all so complicated? If he didn’t love her…
He pushed open the door just as Langdon was closing the one to the hallway. He grinned when he caught sight of Nicholas.
“I just chased some coxcomb pecking at your door. He wanted to attend to your toiletries. Told him I’d be seeing to you from now on. He said he would hear it from His Lordship’s mouth. I told him he would hear it from my fist if he didn’t leave straight away. He puffed up like a peacock but scurried quick enough.” His chuckle faded. “You didn’t want the dandy to stay, did you?” He ran his hand through his hair, the red bristle standing on end. “Sinclair?”
“She’s gone.”
“She’s—?” He brushed across his crown again, understanding dawning and widening his eyes. “Oh, I see.” He dropped his hand. “It’s sorry I am, Sinclair. Sorry.”
Langdon’s pity jolted Nicholas from his misery, and he shook his head. He was decided. She was his wife, and she would live under his roof whether she wanted to or not. “As am I, Langdon, but she will return.”
“Right, sir. Let’s get you dressed, then.”
Efficient as always, Langdon reached for the clothes he had already laid out. He grabbed the breeches, holding them awkwardly as Nicholas stepped into them. Nicholas bit back impatience at Langdon’s slowness.The man is learning how to work without a hand, for God’s sake!After successfully shrugging into the shirt Langdon held, Nicholas began tucking it in as Langdon grabbed a freshly ironed slab of cotton. He stood there staring at it, his brow furrowing in frustration.
“Never mind, Langdon. I hate the damn things anyway.” Nicholas sat down and pulled on his Hessians before the poor man realized that that too was beyond his range of abilities now.
Langdon threw the cloth on the chair, then stared at Nicholas’s boots, his face crimson with anger. “Sinclair. Sir. I do believe I am of no use—”
“No use? Because you can’t tie a piece of cloth or pull my boots up?” He stood. “Get a grip, man. You were never just a valet. You know that. I need you for far more important things than holding my trousers.”
Langdon’s brow creased in doubt, but the blush receded from his cheeks.
“Not saying I don’t want you about to make sure those trousers are ready. Just don’t need you to be holding them.” Relieved to see the man’s shoulders relax with a slight chuckle, Nicholas put his arm around his comrade, his ally—his friend. “Get Fredericks to show you around. Tell him you’ll be my man in all things.” He released him and strode to the door. “Oh, and make sure you drop into the kitchen and let yourself be known to the cook. Nan is the most important person to have on your side in this house. Not to mention she makes the best biscuits.”
He left Langdon and headed down the stairs.
Fredericks paced beneath them. “Brownlee awaits you in your study.”
Now? The man chose now to return to the estate? Unfortunately, Nicholas could not ignore the steward; the estate needed tending. Irritated, Nicholas marched to the study. Anger ignited at the sight of one of Daniel’s letters in the man’s hand. Nicholas had carelessly left the pile on his desk.
“Brownlee?” He hoped his look was as withering as his voice. He stared pointedly at the man’s hand.
Brownlee had the civility to flush in embarrassment. “Sinclair…my lord. I thought to tidy while I waited.” He laid the paper on the desk.
Nicholas moved forward and scooped up the pile of letters. “I have needed your presence, Brownlee.” He pulled open a drawer and dropped the papers into it. “It seems it is a condition of stewardship to be available for discussion and planning of the estate.” He closed the drawer slowly, anger still simmering. This man had let the land and its tenants fall by the wayside. “Yet you have been noticeably absent.”
“I have been weighing my decision to return at all.” Brownlee shifted uncomfortably, then straightened, his shoulders visibly tightening, a growing defiance hardening his expression. “I returned only because you are now the person I would answer to.”
“As opposed to my father?”
