“You have gone from Henry Hastings to Lord Henry Hastings Hartridge. You require a thirdH.”
I sighed. “Not a priority.”
He grinned. “No.” He unbuttoned my shirt. “You must accept your position as lord of the estate. You did not receive the training for the position, but I am certain you will succeed.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because you are Henry Hastings. Fearless leader of everyone you have ever met.” He assisted me from the shirt—affording him a view of my mangled stump where my right arm used to be.
He did not bat an eye as he undid the buttons of my trousers. “You should sit, so I may remove your boots.”
“Yes, of course.”
Without my having to ask for assistance, he was there—understanding I could not do everything for myself. I sat on the bed, and he removed my boots, and then he removed my pants. Now, my damaged thigh was on display as well.
“I am useless.”
To my shock, he crouched so he was gazing up at me.
“You are far from useless. You are master of this estate. Your farmers and tenants are counting on you. Your niece requires you to be strong. She will need your guidance as she grows. Need to know someone loves her very much. Those are things only you can do. I do not see the scars—I see the man who survived a war. Who came home to take on a responsibility he was not born to. That he was never prepared for. But that he will succeed at nonetheless.” He rose. “The water grows cold. Let us get you into the bath, and then I will request more water.”
I grasped his hand. “You know the challenges I face.”
He nodded. “You have always borne them. Your wealth provided you with privilege and a place in society you would never have had access to otherwise.”
“Unlike others.”
“I have never seen you as anything but Henry. The spare to the heir. Now you are the heir. You should know that Lord John Blackmore has returned from seafaring. He was a simple sailor until his uncle died. Then, mere months later, his dreadful cousin, Mortimer, died. He was never to inherit either.” Percy cleared his throat. “Not all in society have accepted him. But many have. Yes, you both are…different.” He leaned toward me. “The staff here accepted your mother, while she lived, and will accept you as well. If not, Wiggins will happily send them on their way. Now, bath.”
Lord John Blackmore. I did not know him. I would have to discover more about the man who like me, apparently, had black skin.
Chapter Two
Percy
Perhaps I had been too blunt. Too forward. Too honest.
Henry needed to understand the world to which he was returning. His white father had, against the objections of everyone, wed a Black woman. William’s mother, the Earl’s first wife, had been white. Upon her death, the Earl had gone to London and had returned with the woman who would eventually be Henry’s mother. Henry had both white and Black blood running through his veins. The vast Hartridge wealth had opened many doors for Henry, which would have been otherwise closed. Although Black men were free in England, they were certainly not respected to the same degree as others.
In America, many Black men, women, and children were enslaved.
That idea repulsed me.
I did not see Henry’s skin. I saw only the man I had been in love with since we had both been thirteen years old.
Without thought, I assisted him into the bathtub.
He hissed as the heated water hit his skin.
Again, with my help, he submerged and held his breath as the water lapped over his beautiful face.
Finally, he emerged. He gasped in a huge breath of air.
I could not even imagine his thoughts at that moment.
Mine were of how this proud man would survive with the knowledge of his injury. Of the three deaths in six months. The awesome responsibility of a child.
I handed him the soap, and he set about cleaning himself.
