With hands that seemed to shake more than usual, the earl turned the page of his incredibly important document and then exhaled a long breath to signify his annoyance.
“What the hell did you do to provoke him?”
“I haven’t done anything.” Of course, his father would assume that. “Have you? Do you know who’s behind it?Is it you?” If Mantis had thought his heart was in a vice before, no doubt it had abandoned his body completely while he awaited his father’s response.
Because Felicity’s suspicions wouldn’t have bothered him if there wasn’t some buried part of himself that thought she could be right.
“Why the devil would you think that?”
“Motive.”
His father burst out laughing. “If I didn’t think you were simple before, by God, your accusation today would give me cause to do so.”
“Conner has the intelligence that I lack. Why wouldn’t you want me out of the way?” Mantis stood ready, alert, almost as though to fend off an attack. At the same time, his feet and legs felt numb. He’d had confrontations with his father in the past, but nothing like this. And always, Mantis had entered into them thinking that at some time he’d be granted his father’s…
Fucking approval.
Acceptance. Respect.Damn my eyes.For far too long, all he’d wanted was some indication of his father’s regard.
The older man shrugged. “That, dear Manningham, would hardly serve my best interest. God knows it’s always best to have a spare.”
Mantis’ heart swooped back in his chest and began beating again. At the same time, his lungs filled with air.
Felicity was wrong. Not because his father cared, but because his father stood to lose something he valued in the likelihood of his eldest son’s death.
Mantis swallowed hard and then nodded.
“Do you have any opinions as to who might benefit from my demise?” It was a fair question and one of which a man’s father might consider delving into.
“You took ill—too much spirits? And you were shot at. Unpleasant, no doubt, but these two events are nothing more than a coincidence. Louisa says you met up with a gang of pickpockets. People don’t murder benign gentlemen of the ton. And you, Manningham, are as benign as they come.”
Mantis had become numb to his father’s criticisms, but this particular jibe cut deeper than most. It was nothing new, nor ought it to have been unexpected, but…
It was enough.
His father didn’t care—most likely never would—and Mantis couldn’t do a damn thing to change that.
He could, however, get a good night’s sleep.
His recent illness that might have come from drinking from his private stash of whiskey had him coming to a decision. “I’ll be staying at Knight House until after my nuptials.” Mantis had initially declined Greystone’s invitation, but this would be for the best. Meanwhile, he would find a residence for he and Felicity to lease until the season’s end.
Unless the culprit was not apprehended by then, in which case they would cut the season short and travel to Tissinton Towers.
“Good riddance, then.” Crestwood went back to reading the papers on his desk.
Making yet another attempt to harden his heart against this man, Mantis stepped into the foyer. He and Cornell would gather their belongings and leave. It was for the best.
“Hello, Manningham.” A small voice stopped him just as he turned to ascend the staircase.
His younger brother stood across the foyer, straight as a board, his dark hair parted in the center and combed perfectly away from his face. The poor boy really did need to spend more time out of doors. He needed friends. He needed to be allowed to be a child.
“Why, hello, Connor. Have you made any friends in London yet this year?” Mantis flexed his hands and shelved his worries take a few minutes with his only brother.
“No time for that.” Conner’s high-pitched voice had dropped. Axel remembered when his own voice had changed. No doubt, in less than a year, Conner would sound like a full-grown gentleman.
“No time for friends? That’s blasphemy.”
Conner shrugged. “I’m not interested in the sports those boys enjoy. What’s the use in hitting a ball with a stick? And then running? Mr. Rudolph says it’s far more important for a future lord to fill out before testing himself physically. He has scheduled England’s finest fencing master to begin instructing me in September. Although I far prefer studying history.”
