Uncle Hector was something of an oddity in his father’s family. Unlike the rest of the tall, powerfully fit-looking Browning men who sported thick black hair and clean-shaven faces, Hector was of average height, portly, with thinning gray hair and a bushy beard. He used a cane to help him walk and to nervously tap the floor when he was flummoxed. Sylvester, on the other hand,had all the Brownings’ handsome physical traits but wore the same stern expression whether he was happy, ill-tempered, or hungry as a goat.
It had been a long time since more than one of Zane’s family had deemed it necessary to seek him out at the same time. He was fairly certain the last occasion was when he was set to duel a stranger who’d had the poor judgment to call him a card cheat. That early frosty morning Uncle Syl had tried desperately to intervene and convince the young blade of Zane’s expert aim and beg him to offer a public apology for the slander. There was no reasoning to be had between the two swill-headed rounders, but out of deference for his uncle’s well-intentioned pleas, Zane had only grazed the man’s shoulder with a clean shot.
“Uncles,” Zane said with a nod, swallowing his dissatisfaction as he swung his coat off the back of the chair and dropped his coin purse into one of the side pockets.
They bowed and said, “My lord.”
Zane gave a near silent chuckle of derision and shrugged uncomfortably into his coat. Being addressed as a title was going to take a bit of getting used to. Especially when it was coming from family.
Shaking off the drum of buzzing in his head, he cleared his thoughts and made eye contact with first Hector and then Sylvester. “I’ve already spoken to the dowager. My condolences to each of you and the entire family.”
“Enough time has passed now and most everyone is getting back to normal,” Uncle Syl remarked. “We’ve been worried about you and Robert.”
It was no wonder. Until Zane had an heir, Robert was next in line for the title.
“We made the journey as fast as we could after hearing the news.”
“Robert told me when he managed to get home last night,” Hector added. “I appreciate that you returned with my son. Last I’d heard, he’d joined you in Paris to attend the winter balls.”
Hector’s son was doing a bit more than that. Robert almost married a most unsuitable woman, if Zane hadn’t stopped him—with the aid of an intriguing young lady he hadn’t yet forgotten. And oddly, he hadn’t wanted to. It was pleasing to remember the warmth of her in his arms and the taste of her on his lips. He hadn’t been able to forget the strength she’d showed in questioning and studying him before making up her mind to help him. She was sagacious and beautiful. Usually when she crossed his mind, he wondered if she were still in Paris or if she’d returned to England.
“He’d never been to Vienna,” Zane answered, seeing no reason to elaborate on what had happened with the French woman. “That’s where your letters caught up with us. We left straightaway.”
“Now that you’re here, there’s no time to waste. We thought it best if we joined you for your first meeting with your solicitor as Earl Blacknight,” Uncle Sylvester informed him, and then quickly added, “That is, if you don’t mind?”
Zane would have rather waited until later in the day or even perhaps a few days before settling into his new role, but the unsmiling expressions on his uncles’ faces kept him from saying that.
“Not at all. I have much to get caught up on. I might as well get started.” He motioned for them to precede him out the door and down the stairs.
“After your meeting with him,” Uncle Syl said, and started down the steps first, “you’ll need to do something to calm the family.”
“Everyone has been in a state of shock,” Hector addedbefore following his brother out the door, but at a much slower pace. Because of his hip injury years ago, Hector was always slow descending the stairs. “There’s been no small amount of hand wringing.”
That was understandable. Losing three family members was a terrible blow that Zane wasn’t even sure time could heal. But, he had no idea what to say to them to ease their minds, and he doubted they wanted to hear from the family rogue anyway.
Few, if any, in Zane’s family would be happy that he was now the earl. Since his mother passed a few years ago, he was more apt to have a long stay in Paris or Vienna than to gallivant around the English countryside in summer or attend the London Season. However, he always made it home for Christmastide.
Much to the chagrin of his family.
Now, for the first time in several years, he was in London during the full bloom of spring.
Zane had no memory of his father, and his fondest remembrance of his mother was how much she revered Christmas Day. She made sure everyone in her household shared her devotion as well. Church in the morning, family and neighbors around the table for a feast in the afternoon, and games of chess or cards by the fire in the evening. Some argued his paltry involvement once a year with their large and extended family should count for nothing, but Zane paid their grumblings no mind. Christmas Day with family was a code of gentlemanly honor and conduct he wouldn’t forego.
Besides, returning home for the holiday gave his well-married sister, numerous aunts, uncles, and more cousins from both sides of the family than the King had horses, a reason to whisper and roll their eyes when he came walking into the manor as if he’d only left the day before. It also gave members of the ton an opportunityto trot their eligible daughters out for him to make their acquaintance. Which he always did. No man should ever pass on a chance to meet a young lady. It mattered not to the elite of Society that he was the black sheep of the family. He was from the house and lineage of Blacknight and all the privilege and prosperity that went with it.
Sylvester stopped at the first landing and waited for his younger brother.
“We’d like to suggest a dinner at your house tomorrow evening,” Uncle Syl called up to Zane. “We talked to your butler this morning, and he assured us the staff is quite capable and there will be no problem getting everything prepared.”
Zane grimaced. “I don’t have a butler.”
“Of course you do,” Hector said irritably. “You have a complete household staff waiting for you at your new home; the Earl of Blacknight’s house is now yours. You need to move in immediately. It’s the proper thing to do. The dowager is moving out today.”
“Wait a hellfire minute,” Zane said, his jaw hardening with conviction. He knew being the earl was going to involve situations he wasn’t prepared to deal with. “I don’t want her to move out of the house. Especially not at this time. She has lost her husband, son, and nephew. It’s too soon to disrupt her life.”
“Nonsense. She knows propriety, expects this, and understands,” Uncle Syl said calmly. “She’s been planning for it. It’s your house now. She’s ready to leave and has only been waiting for you to return. I’ve made arrangements to have your personal items moved from your town house today.”
“What?” Zane asked, biting back another oath as he started down the narrow stairs, mumbling to himself, “I’m quite capable of handling my own belongings and all of my affairs.”
