“He does look peaky.” Another man arrived, this one equally as tall, but not a sibling was Rory’s guess. Brown hair and eyes.
“I am not peaky,” Rory gritted out.
“Do men even get peaky?” someone said from behind them. “It hardly seems manly.”
“He is a fool for leaving the bed, but as I know his type, I can at least understand it. Max is an idiot when he is sick or injured too.”
“Oh, now I protest,” drawled his brother from somewhere in the room beyond the wall of three now before him.
“Forgive my manners. I’m James, and my sister-in-law is a bossy woman but in these kinds of matters only.” His smile was gentle. “Will you allow me to help you to a seat?”
James was the Duke of Raven, Rory remembered that much from his one-sided conversation with Cambridge.
“I need no help and will return to the room, your Grace.”
“Excellent, but you can have a rest before you do. Sit in the comfortable chair while they are allowing you to.” His arm was taken and a hand pressed into his spine—his sister-in-law’s—and then he was moving slowly forward.
What was with these people always forcing him in a direction he had no wish to take?
“Can he have mulled wine, Ess?” These words came from Cambridge.
“Only a small amount.”
“And gingerbread?”
“Very well, but not too much. Josiah, a blanket at once, if you please!”
“I have one here, Mrs. Huntington.” Another man entered through the door.
“You have yet to meet Josiah and Bertie. They live here at Oak’s Knoll and once cared for us. Now they loll about the place doing little.”
Cambridge said these words, and Rory just knew he’d made it his life work to annoy those closest to him.
“I have never lolled a day in my life, and I’ll thank you to mind your tongue, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I have. Lolling is a favorite pastime of mine.”
Rory was ushered into a wide, comfortable seat, just managing to swallow the sigh of relief to be off his feet as he settled on the soft cushions. However, now he was seated and the people who’d been standing in front of him had moved, he could see everyone else in the room.
His brother stood with a young boy leaning on his legs, the only child present. Together, they came forward.
Rory knew who the boy was, because he looked like Max. He didn’t want to meet the child but could do nothing to stop that from happening.
“This is your nephew, Luke.”
He didn’t want any connection to this man, but looking into the boy’s eyes, so like Maddie’s, he felt something shift and soften inside him.
“Hello,” he managed to get out around the lump in his throat.
“This is your uncle Rory,” Max added.
“Hello, Uncle Rory.” The boy moved closer, resting a hand on his knee to look at him closely. “I like uncles.”
“Ah… that’s n-nice?” he said, because while he wanted nothing to do with the boy’s father, he wouldn’t be rude to the child.
He would, however, walk away and not look back. Looking around the room, he knew his nephew had no need of him, as clearly this was a large family. Rory wanted no part of that. He did things alone. He’d once had Maddie, but no longer; now it was just him—and he liked it that way, he reminded himself.
Chapter Seven
