On their way to Greyson Manor, Bastin had laid down his “rules of conduct” for Henry.
“Under no circumstances are you to become inebriated while in my home. I don’t expect you to give up drinking but brooding about something beyond your control and drowning yourself in brandy has to end. I know what it’s like to be eaten up by resentment and anger, but you need a plan, or you will remain stuck.”
“Well, I can hardly use your methods of revenge. One cannot cuckold and duel one’s mother like you did to avenge yourself against your uncle.” Henry referred purposely to this dark time in his friend’s history by reminding Bastin that his life had once revolved around wreaking havoc on the man who’d stripped him of his identity, indentured him to an American slave owner, and usurped his inheritance.
“No, you certainly cannot, nor would you, were you given the chance. You and I are different creatures, Hudsyn. I know you. Angry though you are, you don’t want to inflict pain on your mother or anyone else. Yet, you punish yourself. You couldn’t live with yourself if you destroyed someone else’s life, yet you are quite content to destroy your own. And that perplexes me. It goes against human nature.”
“It feels as though I’m living someone else’s life. As though I were an imposter.”
“I know what it feels like to be furious at the world, to rage at the unfairness of it all, but you’ve got to fight. I’ve seen men claw their way out of the worst situations. You need a plan that doesn’t involve self-flagellation. Use the next week to sober up and think about it. If you don’t have a solution after that, I’m putting you to work.”
Now, Bastin glanced at Ottilie as if reminding Henry of his earlier warning.
Henry responded with a slight nod. Bastin had used the only person in the world who Henry cared about to bring him to his senses. He would not intentionally cause his cousin stress and compromise her health—especially now that she was with child—so he had no choice but to do as Bastin asked.
“You are missing the London gossip, I see,” Ottilie said, bringing him back to the present.
Henry looked down; he was still clutching the newspaper. He picked it up.The Canterbury Journallay underneath.
Daughter of Confectionary Giant, Bernard Leonard, Shuns Viscount for Mysterious Lover
Henry read the headline and smiled to himself as he poured tea into his cup.
“What are you smiling about?” Ottilie asked.
“I know the betrothed of the young lady who is the subject of those headlines. Lord Craventhorp. He’s a cruel, arrogant man. It looks like he finally got what he deserved.” Henry seated himself next to his cousin.
“Craventhorp? Isn’t he the one you engaged in fisticuffs with?” Ottilie picked upThe Canterbury Journaland frowned as she scanned the article.
“How do you know about that?”
“We had a letter from Hobsworth,” Bastin said. “He was worried about you.”
Damn him! Sothat’swhat had prompted Ottilie’s concern.
“He shouldn’t have done that,” Henry said, making a mental note to tell Hobsworth off the next time he saw him. “It was a minor scuffle. I’ve known Craventhorp since Eton, and he’s always been a bad sort. I tend to steer clear of him, but Hobsworth tolerates him, so I’ve found myself forced into his company on more than one occasion this year.”
“What was the skirmish about?” Ottilie continued to press Henry for information. “Did it have anything to do with this young lady?” She gestured to the newspaper.
Henry massaged his jaw, thinking how best to answer his cousin. Engaging in fisticuffs at a bawdy house wasn’t something that needed mentioning, and his memory of what had happened in Lady Dawley’s Garden was fuzzy at best. So, he said, “Craventhorp treats women poorly. It’s no wonder the young lady ran off with someone else. I pity the woman who eventually marries him.”
“If he’s so terrible, why does Hobsworth tolerate him?” Ottilie asked.
“To keep the peace. I think he’s afraid of crossing Craventhorp and causing trouble. Lord Stokeford restricts his funds anytime he dares step out of line.”
“And how is Lady Stokeford?” Ottilie asked, changing the subject.
“She’s Lady Hudsyn with power,” Henry said dryly.
Ottilie laughed and rose from the table. “Oh, Henry, I’ve missed you. But I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our conversation later. Jack and I must get Alice and make haste if we’re to make it to the college on time.”
Bastin patted his mouth with a napkin and pushed back his chair. “I’ll get her, and we’ll meet you outside.” He kissed Ottilie’s cheek, patted Henry on the back, and left the room.
“Alice too? Isn’t she a bit young to be teaching?” he teased.
“I’m pleased you’re getting your sense of humor back.” Ottilie smiled and opened one of the silver serving dishes to scoop scrambled eggs onto Henry’s plate. “Alice stays in the nursery with Violet’s little ones while I teach, and Jack writes in his office. It’s the only way to see Alice and each other throughout the day.”
“That sounds too good to be true.”
