Ben appeared in the arch like a sulking ghost. His hair was windblown, his boots scuffed.
“I take it you’re not returning from a garden party. Thought you’d be sleeping.” Emerson redirected his gaze to the fire.
“You’re still dusty.” Ben took the chair opposite, collapsing into it with the boneless resignation of a man who knew his own drama wouldn’t change anything. “Did you find her?”
Emerson stilled. “Her?”
“The scullery maid from Shufflebottom’s party. Are you daft?” Ben let out a snort then took a deep breath. “I came to ask if your offer still stands.”
Emerson blinked. “Would you mind being more specific?”
“The offer to teach me your business…” His voice trailed away as if suddenly unsure. “I don’t wish to learn Oscar is…is…”
“Expired,” Emerson said softly.
Ben swallowed. “Yes.”
A silence passed between them, gentle, not empty.
Ben exhaled. “They’ve moved on, you know. Gorman and the others. Left London for the country. Which means something is up,” he finished on a growl, frowning.
Emerson set down his glass. “And you didn’t go with them.”
“I thought better of the company…for once.”
He leveled Ben a hard stare, unsure how or what to respond.
His brother’s gaze moved to the fire, his chin jutted out. “They never really wanted me, Emerson. Not as I am. Just the title I might have inherited.”
A sense of pride stole through Emerson. “Then you’re not the fool I’d believed you to be,” he returned softly.
Ben’s gaze shot to him, stunned.
Emerson pushed his untouched brandy toward his brother. “Here. Growing up is difficult. You need this more than I.”
He took the glass, his gaze dropping to the contents. “You realize, don’t you, it was Stockton who showed up at Hallandale?”
“I suspected it was one of the upstarts.” Emerson stood, intending to pour himself a brandy.
“You’re sure?” Ben asked quietly. “About the warehouse, I mean?”
Emerson stopped, then sat back down. “Of course. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He leaned back. “It won’t be easy, you know.”
Ben smirked. “I don’t expect it to be. You’re not an easy man. But you are a successful one.”
That earned a huff, not quite laughter, out of Emerson.
Ben swirled his drink. “So. What of your blackmailer?”
Yes, what of his blackmailer? How was he to enter peerages’ homes without assistance? He speared Ben with another hard look. “You say ‘the children’ left London?”
Ben winced. “Must you refer to them so?” But the question was rhetorical. “I heard they went south.”
“South. What the hell is south?”
Ben shrugged, stretching out his legs and crossing one ankle over the other. He folded his arms across his chest, still holding on to his half-drunk brandy. “They put it about White’s they were headed to Lewes for the Autumn Cup. Everyone who is anyone knows Newmarket is the place to be this week.”
“What’s this week?”
