“Your brother sounds like a wise and decent chap,” she said with a wistful smile. “Are you close to him now?”
Her matter-of-fact acceptance humbled him. Gave him hope that she might be able to accept his greater trespasses when it came time to share them with her.
“Very close. In fact, he, my sister-in-law Violet, and their three hellions are staying with me in London for the summer. They’re due to arrive at any moment.”
“Shouldn’t you be there to host them?” She looked adorably concerned.
“I sent word that I would be delayed. They’ll get on fine without me.” He stroked her cheek, enjoying the privilege of touching her. “After we deal with the problems at hand, I’d like for you to meet them. I think you and Violet, in particular, would rub along famously.”
“You don’t think…”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Will your family find me…odd?” she asked anxiously.
He burst out laughing.
“I’m serious,” she protested. “I’m not exactly a conventional lady.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the notion of Vi finding anyone unconventional.” He grinned at her. “Compared to her, you’re as proper as the queen.”
“How can you think I’m proper given the way we met?”
“You should ask Violet about her first meeting with Richard. It made a splash in the papers.”
She raised her brows. “Then I think I shall enjoy meeting her and your family.”
The idea of introducing Beatrice to his kin filled him with pride. Then he wondered if she’d feel the same way about him. Although descended from aristocratic stock, he was the younger son of a minor Scottish viscount whereas her brother was a duke.
He’d never been introduced to the Duke of Hadleigh, although he knew the man by reputation. Hadleigh was said to be an arrogant hothead, possessed of a vindictive streak. During Wick’s tenure as a moneylender, one of his clients had apparently offended the Duchess of Hadleigh with some off-handed comment. His Grace had avenged his wife by calling the man out and putting a hole in the other’s arm.
Wick cleared his throat. “What about your brother? Do you think he and I will get along?”
Her smile faded.
“I’m not that bad of a catch, am I?” he said lightly.
“It’s not you.” She exhaled. “Benedict is not an easy man to get along with. He wasn’t always that way. I mean, he was quick-tempered even when we were growing up, but he had a kinder, gentler side.”
“What made him change?”Second rule of negotiating: ask the right questions.
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got a long night of not making love ahead of us.”
His quip had its intended effect of relaxing her. Particularly her eyeballs, which rolled in their sockets before she continued with her story.
“Before my accident, my family was a happy one. Papa and Mama were devoted to one another. Benedict and I grew up at our country seat, and our days were filled with riding, swimming, and playing with other children. It was a carefree time.” Her expression darkened. “My first visit to London was for my debut at age seventeen. Mama never liked the city, so Papa would go on his own while we stayed at the estate. Benedict and I were both overwhelmed, I think, by our first taste of city life. I was swept into the ballrooms of theton, and he fell in with a crowd of neck-or-nothings, lordlings who would bet a thousand pounds on whose carriage would win a race.”
Wick understood because the same thing had happened to him. “London is a dangerous place for a young man of means who thinks he’s more experienced than he is.”
“You’ve described Benedict to a tee. Those initial months in London fed his recklessness and his temper. Then my accident occurred…” She swallowed before continuing. “It was like a lightning rod for his rage. He insisted my honor had to be avenged, even when I begged him to let the matter drop.”
Wick recalled the details she’d shared. “The man in the park, the one you stopped from abusing the urchin. Your brother wanted him to answer for what happened?”
“Yes. The man’s name was T. Edgar Grigg.”
The name rang a bell. “Was Grigg a coal merchant?”
