Nelson wasn’t yet aware who sat at the table, too busy acknowledging the members around him who waited to see his downfall. Murmurs rose and Sam could hear bets being placed not quite in Nelson’s favor.
Nelson, at last, deigned to look his way.
“Mr. Pot—” He blanched.
Sam waved to the open chair across the circular table and Blakewood, finally, sat to Sam’s right.
“Nelson, good of you to come. I hope you don’t mind a bit of subterfuge. Harmless fun, really.”
Nelson sank into the chair the porter held out for him.
“A brandy for my guest, Quincy,” Sam said to the waiter.
“You look a bit pale. Are you feeling all right?” Sam asked.
“My, my, what? Sam?”
“Yes, Nelson?”
“You’re alive?” he whispered.
“As far as I can tell. Blakewood? Am I alive?”
“It would seem so,” Blakewood folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
Nelson took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. He drew in a wheezing breath. “Thank the lord. We thought the worst had occurred. Dear Amelia, in her grief over your... your... illness—”
“Injury. I was injured. Not ill.”
Nelson swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry.”
“Not sorry enough it would seem,” Sam said.
“We truly thought you’d passed, cousin. We saw you, my mother and I, lifeless. You were passing before our eyes.”
“Such a terrible moment I’m sure that was, and yet not a tear shed for my supposed death, or Amelia’s wellbeing, no. You should be in mourning, shouldn’t you? But you chose to take advantage of my death first. Multiplying your debts, parading about like a peacock. The inheritance, the title, that’s what you wanted. Only that.”
Nelson blew out a breath, his lips flaying open like a fish.
“It’s pathetic, what you are,” Sam continued. “You’ll stop using my title, and you’ll stop wasting everyone’s time with this baseless claim that I’m dead, defiling my sister’s reputation with your lies, and last of all, you’ll be paying your own debts.”
Sam stood and straightened his jacket.
Nelson looked over his frame in disbelief. “But your sister lied to us. She said you were in Scotland when all along you were at home. Why would she do that?”
“To keep your noxious presence at bay,” Sam said.
“Family would not do such a thing!”
Sam leaned over him, his hands on the arms of the chair. “We’re not family, Nelson. Family does not prey upon each other like jackals. This ends now. Do not approach us, do not correspond with us, do not use my name. Consider my sister and me strangers to you.”
“But what about my mother? She’s your aunt. You’d turn your back on an elderly woman? She’s the closest thing you have to a mo—”
Sam took him by his lapels and shook him. “Don’t you ever suggest, hint, or even think that Ruth was ever a mother to Amelia and me. She is a leech and so are you. But I’m gracious. I will continue to supply her yearly allowance. But you, dear, dear, cousin, you’re dead to me. Just like I was dead to you.” Heshoved Nelson back in the chair and straightened. He fixed his cuff and then proceeded to the door, followed by Blakewood.
Back in the carriage, Sam exhaled in relief and swiped a hand over his face.
“That went better than I thought,” Blakewood said.
