“No.” That one word wasn’t enough, but neither would a thousand words be enough, so Lachlan kept quiet.
“I used to wish for siblings, too—brothers, or perhaps a younger sister or two. But my—our—father died when I was eight, and after that, well…” Lord Huntington shrugged. “There wasn’t much point in wishing anymore. My childhood was a lonely one. It’s odd now to discover that all those years I spent longing for siblings I had three of them, living just a few hundred miles north. I don’t know…forgive me, Mr. Ramsey, but I don’t know how to feel about that.”
Lachlan tensed. For the past two days he, Ciaran and Isla had been staying in Grosvenor Square, at Lord and Lady Huntington’s invitation. They’d been treated with careful courtesy during that time, but this…this wasn’t distant politeness.
This was something else.
An apology, maybe, or an explanation.
A dismissal.
Whatever it was, Lord Huntington spoke like a man who’d made a decision. Either he’d accept the Ramseys into his family, or he’d tell them to leave, and never return. Lachlan had already made up his mind to accept whatever decision his lordship made, but it was difficult to sit here and wait while another man decided his family’s fate.
After a long silence, Lord Huntington cleared his throat. “The papers you brought—the letters exchanged between our parents, the miniature of our mother, the timing of your birth...I believe you’re telling me the truth, Mr. Ramsey. But then, I would have believed it if you’d arrived here with a story and nothing else. Your sister’s face is all the proof I need.”
Without realizing he did it, Lachlan rose to his feet.
“I know the value of family, Mr. Ramsey, likely because I didn’t have much of one growing up. I don’t pretend it isn’t damned odd for me to have ready-made brothers and a sister arrive on my doorstep like the morning post, but I’ve spoken to Lady Huntington, and we’ve agreed to acknowledge you all as our family.”
Lachlan stood there stupidly, shock rendering him silent. It wasn’t until Lord Huntington spoke that Lachlan understood he’d expected to be sent away, and warned to stay away. That this man would accept them into his home—into hisfamily—with so little hesitation, when the friends they’d known their entire lives had tossed them aside without a backward glance, seemed nothing short of miraculous.
He stared at Lord Huntington—no, at hisbrother, and couldn’t say a word.
Lord Huntington offered him a tentative smile. “Shall I call you Lord Lachlan now? It’s your rightful title, as the second son of a marquess.”
At last, Lachlan found his tongue. “Call me what you like, but I doubt I’ll answer to Lord Lachlan.”
Lord Huntington chuckled. “Perhaps just Lachlan then, at least for now, and you must call me Finn, as a brother would. I’m afraid I’ll make an indifferent brother, however. I haven’t the vaguest notion how to go about it.”
One corner of Lachlan’s lip quirked. “Mostly it’s just brawling. At least, Ciaran and I spend more time bloodying each other’s noses than anything else.”
“Yes, I gathered that.” Finn’s voice was dry. “I’d like to have a word with you about that incident the other night, with Hyacinth.”
Lachlan hid his grimace. He’d known the issue of Hyacinth Somerset’s hysterical outburst would come up again. He wasn’t looking forward to this, but the sooner they had it out, the sooner he could forget her entirely.
Finn waved Lachlan to a chair in front of the fire, and then crossed to a sideboard with a neat row of crystal decanters arranged across the top. “Hyacinth’s…well, she’s unusual.”
Unusual.That was one word for it—a generous one, in Lachlan’s opinion.
“My wife’s parents died when Hyacinth was only fifteen years of age. The loss was sudden and tragic, and Hyacinth, being the youngest of the five sisters, had the hardest time of it. Lady Huntington tells me Hyacinth was painfully shy even before their deaths, but it grew worse afterwards. I’m afraid it grows more so every year.”
“That’s unfortunate.” It was, and Lachlan felt a twinge of pity for Miss Somerset, but he’d just as soon stay clear of the girl before she succumbed to another hysterical fit, and accused him of something worse than murder.
Finn handed Lachlan a glass of Scotch, then settled into the chair across from him. “Yes, it is. I’ve never known a lady who suffers with such crippling anxiety as Hyacinth does. Thetongossips about her, about her timidity, which of course only makes it worse.”
Lachlan took an uneasy swallow of his whiskey. He wasn’t sure why Finn was telling him this, but he’d likely need more whiskey before it was over.
“I was stunned speechless when Hyacinth agreed to a season,” Finn went on. “I never dared hope she’d venture into society, but it’s the very thing she needs. There’s a great deal more to Hyacinth than meets the eye—that is, one need only look at her face to see her sweetness, but she possesses a strength she’s wholly unaware of.”
Lachlan turned his glass in his hands. No doubt, the girl was sweet enough, but if she did have reserves of strength, she did a damn good job of hiding it.
“Unfortunately, my wife, Lady Dare and Lady Chase are far too overprotective of Hyacinth. They fuss over her for the most affectionate reasons, but they underestimate her, and Hyacinth doubts herself. I’ve spoken to Lady Huntington about it, but she insists Hyacinth is delicate, and her health is fragile. There’s not a damn thing wrong with Hyacinth’s health, or with Hyacinth herself, but I can’t blame my wife for her concern. We never see our own family as clearly as others see them, do we?”
Lachlan thought of his mother, of all the secrets she’d kept—secrets he’d never guessed at. “No, we don’t.”
“Because of that incident at the ball, and the scandal that’s sure to follow, her sisters and grandmother want to put an immediate end to Hyacinth’s season. They intend to pack her off to Brighton for a restorative holiday.”
Privately Lachlan thought it was just as well if Miss Somerset did go off to Brighton. Even without the scandal, odds were she wouldn’t have made it through her season. “And you don’t want her to go?”
