Heathcliff narrowed his eyes a moment, then gave a shrug, accepting his friend’s change in subject matter. “I’m simply aware of Greywick’s bet on the books, and that he is a long-standing ally in the House of Lords. Same as what you know.”
Lucas nodded. “Greywick, is he any relation to Catherine?”
Heathcliff blinked, his brows raised in surprise. “Do I need to offer some sort of blood sacrifice after you mentioned her name?” he asked in a thick brogue. “Ye canna speak of the devil so lightly.” He shuddered.
“I wasn’t speaking lightly. I was speaking directly.” Lucas shook his head, but understood his friend’s sentiment. After all, Heathcliff had heard of it, Lucas had survived it.
“It’s been an age since you’ve even spoke her name. Are ye dying?” Heathcliff frowned.
“No, and will you just answer the damn question?”
Heathcliff studied him a moment more, then replied, “I’m not sure. But I can find out. Why?”
“Because I have some suspicions. Also, I haven’t been keeping up on the new proceedings in the House of Lords. Are you more knowledgeable than I?”
“You’re talking to the wrong friend. You need to ask Ramsey that question. He’d be able to tell you far quicker than I,” Heathcliff answered.
“True, true.” Lucas nodded.
“Now back to the first question . . .” Heathcliff leaned over his elbows as he glanced up at Lucas expectantly. “What kind of ‘situation’ did you create?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m not sure I wish to tell you any more.” Lucas strode away from the desk to the sideboard to pour a liberal portion of brandy.
“Drinking will only loosen your tongue,” Heathcliff called after him.
Lucas chuckled. “My tongue is by far the least dangerous part of my body.”
A moment passed before Heathcliff burst into laughter. “Pour me a glass, I expect I’ll need it after this story.”
“I don’t find it quite as humorous as you, my friend,” Lucas replied and poured a second glass of the amber liquid.
He carried the glasses back to Heathcliff and lifted his in a toast. Heathcliff took his glass and lifted it too. Lucas grinned devilishly, clinked his friend’s glass, then waited till Heathcliff was taking a sip. “Hell has frozen over. I may not end up being the last of my line.”
As expected, Heathcliff choked, sputtered, and smacked the desk with his hand as brandy trickled down his nose and into his beard. Lucas chuckled at the sight and took a celebratory sip of his brandy.
“Say wha’ now?” Heathcliff spoke after he recovered.
Lucas shrugged. “Which part has you confused?”
Heathcliff studied him. “All o’ it. I tho’ she simply wanted a tumble, not an heir and spare.” Heathcliff tossed his hand in a bewildered gesture.
Lucas shook his head. “I said nothing of a spare, and that wasn’t in the agreement.” He took another sip of brandy.
“You simply tossed that in? Like an extra roll from the bakery?” Heathcliff all but shouted, his expression bewildered.
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly pondering that at the time.”
Heathcliff chuckled lightly. “I expect not. So this . . . event . . . wasn’t planned? I tho’ you were careful the first time.”
“I was. I’m referring to a more recent event, and I’m not aware if it will be fruitful or . . . not.” Lucas frowned slightly, then took another sip thoughtfully.
“You’re taking this remarkably well. You are dying, aren’t you?” Heathcliff asked.
“No. I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer my presence for many years more.”
“Your presence and a smaller version, likely as not.” Heathcliff took a tentative sip. “Does the lady know?”
That was the rub that made Lucas rather uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how Liliah took the news. He surely hadn’t lingered, and he was regretting his hasty retreat now, even if it was prudent for him to leave as quickly as he did. Her expression had given nothing away, rather he had the impression that she wasn’t fully aware of the implications, even after his swift explanation.
