“Not every man,” Javenia said softly.
A soft look passed between her mother and father. “No, not every man.”
Her father gave her hand a pat and rose stiffly from his knee. “And it sounds like Mr. Roberts might be counted among the honorable in that regard. I am in his debt. And you say he has kept this secret for seven years? How extraordinary.”
Javenia let out slow, sad sigh. “He is extraordinary. Which is why I need to leave London.”
Papa stopped and hovered over his chair; confusion etched across his face.
Javenia straightened her posture and held her head high, Mama’s arm naturally falling away. “I will not be dissuaded, Papa. Algenon deserves to make his own choices, not have them forced upon him by the Ton’s lust for satisfaction or my stupidity. I asked him to meet me in the garden, and so it is my fault they caught us in such an intimate embrace. At the time I thought it the only way to settle things between us, but now I see I hatched my plan out of desperation, not wisdom.”
Mama’s mouth opened and closed several times as she retook her seat, but nothing came out. Her parents both stared at her in silence.
“Right now,” she said, “he needs to focus on his father’s health for however long that takes. If he truly wishes to make a match, he knows where to find me.”
Again her parents spoke to one another in well-rehearsed facial movements and glances. After a moment, her father said. “I suppose we can return early for Christmastide. We will need to make arrangements for William to return home another way, since he does not finish his term for another week.”
The door to the sitting room burst open and Cindy rushed in, Livy and Eddie following at a much more appropriate pace.
“Is it true, Vee? Was Lord Roberts really taken up for dead?”
Dryness, like a wad of cotton, filled Javenia’s mouth, her breaths coming out in short gasps. Had her recklessness killed Lord Roberts? She looked to Eddie and Livy for answers.
“It is only a rumor at the moment,” Livy said calmly. “We only know the doctor was called and all the guests sent away.”
Javenia stood on legs as shaky as a newborn foal, fear and guilt warring for precedence. If her actions had killed Lord Roberts, Algenon could possibly never forgive her.
Algenon sat by his father’s bedside for the second night in a row, the hours since his collapse a blur. The Fortescues had been gracious enough to give him and Lady Roberts rooms while the doctors decided whether or not his father should be moved.
That it had required more than one physician was a testament to the complexity of his father’s case. At times, he regained consciousness and his speech was rather clear if a bit clipped. However, most of the day he’d either mumbled incoherently, shook uncontrollably, or slept so deeply, Algenon worried he was no longer living.
In those quiet moments, guilt had crept in around his heart. Was all this the result of his recklessness? Had seeing him with Javenia been that much of a shock, or had his anger against his father somehow tempted fate?
Algenon adjusted his position in the uncomfortable wooden chair close to his father’s bed. With trembling fingers, he clasped the hand he’d both feared and loved. Why had his father been so hard on him? Why couldn’t he trust him to do the right thing?
A memory peppered with his own anger surfaced, only now he wondered about its significance.
“Why are you so stubborn, Roberts? After everything I have done for you, could you not be more grateful?”
He’d scoffed at his father’s claim, thinking it arrogant for him to say he’d done everything. Yes, he’d sheltered and fed him, but that was every father’s responsibility. However, he’d also made certain he attended the finest schools, even trusting him with the running of the estates that had been passed down the Roberts family line. When Algenon took over the title of baron, he would be fully prepared. Four estates—five if he counted the cottage left to him—and he knew how every one of them functioned.
He supposed he ought to be more grateful. At least he’d not struggle as Nate had when he’d taken over Havencrest.
Unbidden, another comment from the conversation came to mind. He stared at the amber-colored bedcovering, his head hung in defeat.
“I am trying to save you from yourself and you continue to run headlong into trouble, just like him!”
His father had been right. He had a tendency to run headlong into trouble, but he couldn’t be completely penitent in that regard. If he’d not run toward Javenia that day seven years ago, or any other time she or his friends had needed him, he’d never have known a life so full of love and light.
The warm fingers he clasped moved slightly, and he glanced up. His father’s eyes were open, staring unfocused at him in the dim candlelight.
“Solomon?”
Algenon scrunched his brow. Had his father become delirious? From his time spent learning the family generations, he knew Solomon was the name of the older brother who had died on the way home from the house party where his parents had met, but not once in his life had his father mentioned his name.
“No, Father. It’s me. Algenon.”
With eyes squinted, he shook his head. “Not mine.”
