Nicholas began talking with Walter about one of the estates, and Philip availed himself of more port. Douglas sat quietly, as usual, observing.
Chase got up and came around to Kevin and sat down beside him.
“She will ask you about Uncle’s death now. She didn’t miss that slip Dolores made.”
“She already has. Felicity was indiscreet in the park. I explained it. The basics, at least.”
“If she is curious still, she may not askyoufor more. It could be Minerva, or me.”
“Whoever is asked can just tell her what the record supports, as I did. An accident.”
“Do you think she will accept that after what Aunt Dolores said?”
“I don’t know. She has other things to think about right now. It may not be something she finds intriguing or wants to learn about.”
At the end of the table, Walter, who had assumed the head seat, was waxing idiotically about some bill being debated in Parliament. His musings probably sounded too much like a lecture to Nicholas, whose annoyed gaze did not match his amiable half smile.
“I think I will go and raise a different topic,” Chase said, standing. “After Dolores’s histrionics, we don’t need fisticuffs too.”
He strolled around the table and inserted himself between Walter and Nicholas. He brought up the subject of a different bill, one that Walter did not care about.
Kevin barely listened. He turned his attention inward and held a conversation with his own head. The topic was the enterprise, and a letter he had received from France in the morning post. That letter created a conundrum. It was a hell of a thing to have a door reopened when you still couldn’t walk through it.
“Quite a scene, eh?”
The voice startled him. He turned his head to see Douglas sitting where Chase had just been. Only, from the sounds of the conversation down the table, Chase had left some time ago.
How long had Douglas been sitting there? It was easy to forget the man was around, but Kevin tried to at least be aware this cousin existed. At least he had since the day several years ago when he strode into a family meeting, sat down, and asked where Douglas was—only to discover Douglas was sitting right next to him and had been there first.
“Yes, it was a scene for the family legends.” Kevin poured himself more port, then topped off Douglas’s glass too.
“She didn’t even blush, though. Miss Jameson. She held her own.”
“She did indeed.”
“I expect that quality doesn’t make things any easier for you, what with her having half that business now. It isn’t as if you can just dictate how things will go, I’d think.”
“We get along quite well.”
“Not the same thing, is it?”
He gave Douglas a good look. How someone could look so much like Nicholas but be so . . . bland. These were the most words Douglas had spoken in Kevin’s hearing in over a year. Even when the family reacted vociferously to the news of Uncle Frederick’s will, Douglas had not joined in. His wife, Claudine, had spoken for them, as was her wont.
Now Douglas’s impassive expression actually brightened a little. “She is a comely woman.”
“She is at that.”
“Rather startlingly so.”
Kevin had to smile at this evidence that Douglas was not dead yet.
“So I was thinking,” Douglas said.
Kevin waited. Who could guess that Douglas ever thought about anything?
“I expect that you will marry her. More famous scenes then, eh?”
“Excuse me?”
