A maid, dusting the banister on the nearby stairs, released a tiny screech, then recognizing who he was, curtsied.
“Where are they?” he asked.
“In the breakfast dining room, my lord.”
That surprised him. He’d expected to find them still abed, had relished the notion of rousing them from slumber. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. A guilty conscience made it difficult to sleep late, made it difficult to sleep at all. Without hesitation, he made his way through the residence. He wore neither hat nor gloves, because he’d not thought the formality was required when taking Catherine home. It was only on his way back to his residence that he’d changed his mind and decided to stop by here first. His clothes were unkempt, but then he’d never been interested in impressing them.
He strode into the breakfast dining room as though he owned it. His determined footsteps no doubt alerted the occupants to his arrival. Scraping back his chair, Marcus Langdon came to his feet with such swiftness that he nearly lost his balance. His mother gasped, her fleshy face quivering as she struggled to rise.
“You have no right to be here, sir!” she exclaimed, spittle flying over her plate, a plate heaped with enough food to feed a family of four.
“On the contrary, madam, I pay the lease on the residence.” He walked to the sideboard, took a plate, and began selecting items of interest. They certainly didn’t skimp when it came to their palate. “I daresay I purchased the goods that provided this lovely breakfast as well as the servants who prepared it.” He raised an eyebrow at the footman standing nearby. “See that I have some coffee.”
“Yes, my lord.” He immediately headed for the doorway that would lead to the kitchen.
Luke carried his plate to the table, took the chair opposite Langdon’s mother—he had no doubt she was the more dangerous of the two—and smiled as though all was right with the world. “Please, don’t let me interrupt your meal.”
Langdon sat down cautiously, his mother less graciously.
“Good God, is that blood on your shirt?” Langdon asked.
Catherine’s blood. Luke hadn’t given any thought to the fact that she’d bled on his clothing. Thinking about how close he’d come to losing her, he had a strange sensation, as though he might be ill, but he couldn’t dwell on that now or afford to be distracted.
He had these two to deal with first.
As though Langdon’s question were of no consequence, Luke began slicing off a bit of ham. “Yes, as a matter of fact. You’ll no doubt find this interesting. A strange thing happened on my way home from Dodger’s in the early hours of the morning. My coach was stopped and some footpads threatened my life. Can you imagine?”
Langdon paled. His mother turned a ghastly, blotchy red. Luke suspected that before bitterness had hardened her features she’d been a lovely woman.
“Were you hurt?” Langdon asked.
Luke wasn’t surprised by the true concern echoed in the man’s voice. Marcus Langdon was two years Luke’s senior. He had the famous Claybourne silver eyes, as well as the dark hair. He was a handsome fellow. Luke suspected that if not for Langdon’s mother’s resentment of Luke that the two men might have even been friends. But Langdon’s loyalty rested with his mother, not with the man who had usurped his right to the title.
“Barely at all,” Luke assured him. “As you can imagine, growing up on the London streets as I did, I’m quite adept at dealing with those who crawl up out of its underbelly.
Any notion who might want me dead these days?”
Langdon shifted his gaze to his mother, then back to Luke. “No.”
“Most of London, I suspect,” Mrs. Langdon said. “You’re not a popular sort, but then thieves never are.”
Luke gave her an indulgent smile. “Are we back to that? I’ve heard that you’ve filed with the courts.”
Langdon cast another quick glance at his mother, who’d squared her shoulders in defiance.
“How’d you hear of that?” Langdon asked.
“I have my ways.”
“The title rightfully belongs to my son,” Langdon’s mother said.
“The old gent didn’t agree.”
“You never call him your grandfather. Marcus did.”
Luke fought not to show how the force of her words struck him. “I’m well aware of that, madam, but you’ll not wrest the title from me. I enjoy too much the benefits that come with it.” He came to his feet and looked at the man who no one in the room believed was truly his cousin. “If you’ve ever a desire to earn decent pay for an honest day’s work, let me know.”
“Honest? At Dodger’s?”
