Silence followed, the two men staring back at each other until George quietly asked, “How much did your mother tell you?”
“Enough for me to know where to lay the blame.”
George nodded. “I would have killed the vile miscreant myself if I had been given the chance to do so, but the situation was complicated and...” His voice broke and he turned his head away. “Claire got no protection from me or from her husband. It is a wonder she was able to forgive us.”
Feeling bile creeping up his throat, Florian closed his eyes and focused on deep inhalations. He hated being reminded of what had happened when Henry was two years old and his nanny had gotten sick. Claire had taken him to the park herself. It was there Bartholomew had seen her and decided to do what he’d since made a habit of doing: taking what he wanted. But being a selfish, heartless bastard, he’d chosen the cruelest path available. When Henry went missing a week later and Claire was summoned by Bartholomew, she immediately did what had to be done in order to save her son.
Florian shuddered.
“At least he is dead now,” George said, filling the silence with an edge of gratitude. “There is some relief to be found in that.”
“I quite agree.” Florian would not take this small bit of solace away from a dying man by informing him that a doppelganger had died in Bartholomew’s place.
“So you see, you need not worry about sullying the title. I know how you came into this world and I am sorry for it, but you are still my sister’s boy and the only man able to continue my lineage.”
Holding his uncle’s gaze, Florian studied the man who’d known of his paternity long before he’d discovered it himself. George had loved him, championed him and offered support throughout his entire life and his career. Armswell had not had the capacity to do as much and it was not until Florian turned sixteen that he had finally understood why the viscount had favored his brother. It wasn’t just that Lowell was his heir, but that Florian was the product of something Armswell wished to forget.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Florian murmured. “You may rest assured that I will do my best to honor your wishes.” He would deal with the problems it threatened to cause later.
Chapter 7
The Brighton ballroom was ablaze with light, the bright glow from chandeliers catching the facets of countless jewels and inviting them to shimmer. Finishing a reel with an eager gentleman who’d claimed the dance seconds after her arrival, Juliette went to join Gabriella who was presently conversing with her aunt, the Dowager Countess of Everly.
“Gabriella tells me you’re joining the committee at St. Agatha’s Hospital,” Lady Everly said. She smiled slyly. “I wouldn’t mind sitting at a table with Florian either.”
Instinctively, Juliette glanced around, seeking the man in question. She hadn’t seen him since she’d met with him in his office. He hadn’t attended a single social event, and when she’d asked Lowell about his absence, she’d simply been told that Florian was busy.
“He has always fascinated me,” Lady Everly continued.
Juliette blinked. “Who has?”
Lady Everly gave her a quizzical look. “Why, Florian, of course.” A hint of mischief lit her eyes. “All that red hair, you know?”
“It is an unusual shade,” Gabriella agreed.
Juliette didn’t comment. She was not about to delve into a conversation about the exact shade of Florian’s hair, which wasn’t red at all. It was an intricate collection of color, mostly copper and bronze. “My reason for wanting to join the committee has nothing to do with him.”
“Of course not, my dear,” Lady Everly said with a sparkle to her eyes.
Despite her best efforts, Juliette couldn’t stop from getting defensive. “He is an extremely skilled physician and surgeon.” A far more impressive aspect than his looks, though she had to admit he was strikingly handsome.
Raising her fan to provide a private shield, Lady Everly leaned toward Gabriella and Juliette. “From what I hear, he has traveled the world, gathering all sorts of unorthodox methods from various places.”
“His patients do not seem to complain,” Gabriella said. “I personally believe he is the most skilled physician there is. I refuse to use anyone else.”
“Do you know he advised against bloodletting and purging when I had the measles?” Juliette asked. “According to him, it does more harm than good.”
“Yes. I do believe that particular opinion of his has been much debated in the medical community. He is not always popular with other physicians and has been widely criticized by some.” Lady Everly snapped her fan shut. “If you ask me, one need only look to the success of St. Agatha’s Hospital to know they are all mistaken. Florian is the genius behind that facility and it is doing very well indeed, without the bloodletting or the purging.”
A couple of gentlemen approached at that moment, asking Juliette if there was still room on her dance card. So she handed the card over and watched as they added their names before moving off. “I have almost filled it completely,” she said, staring down at the long list of names. Her feet hurt and still four dances remained.
“Let me see,” Lady Everly said. She peered at the card, nodding in response to the various names, each more formidable than the last. “Your popularity is growing. And yet, no one has claimed the waltz.”
Juliette blushed. “I believe it may be because Raphe threatened to rip Mr. Newton’s throat out last night when he pulled me closer than propriety allows.” A new tune started and Juliette glanced toward the dance floor. “If you will excuse me, I must go and find my next partner.”
She hurried off, engaging in a country dance with a handsome officer, then a minuet with a Mr. Somethingorother, followed by a cotillion and a quadrille. Her slippers pinched her toes by the time it was over and her last partner gallantly escorted her over to the refreshment table.
“You dance splendidly, Lady Juliette,” the gentleman, who’d introduced himself as Viscount Euton, told her. He poured a glass of lemonade and watched her drink.
