Page 49 of Mail-Order Lady

“Why did you come here? Who sent you?” That iron still lined Enoch’s tone, but there was an edge to it that sounded almost lethal. Not like Enoch at all.

The stranger raised his brows. Maybe it was that casual nonchalance that was pushing Enoch toward an undoing. This threat could destroy their entire family.

At last, the man gave a half nod, as though he’d decided within himself he wasn’t going to get a better reception than this—four brothers staring down at him from the porch with rifles not-quite-aimed at him. “I s’pose the answer to both is the same. I came here because our father sent me. But that doesn’t really answer yer question, does it? What ye really want to know is how I could possibly be a Balfour.”

He took a breath, maybe waiting for them to respond. No one said a word.

“Our father, His Grace, had a family before you all, see.”

The porch went still.

Next to him, Enoch’s whole body changed. His rifle lifted. Robert slid a look at him. His jaw had locked hard, and his nostrils flared. “Say that again.” Enoch’s voice held venom this time.

He refocused on Nathan, who had locked his gaze on Enoch. “Our father, His Grace, the Duke of Clarence, had a family before yours. My mum was his wife. I was born barely a twelvemonth after they wed.”

This time Nathan didn’t allow time for a reaction. Which was good, because this was too much information to sort. “When I was five, we scheduled a holiday on the mainland. He sent mum and me over first. He was to join us a fortnight later.” A pause. “Pirates boarded the ship between Falmouth and Brittany. They killed most of the passengers. Including my mum.”

This time the silence hovered in the air like smoke after a shot—acrid, filling the lungs so it was hard to breathe.

Enoch’s hand on the rifle’s forestock had gone white at the knuckles. His breath was the only sound that reached Robert’s ears, save the pounding of his own pulse. Enoch seemed to be barely holding on to himself. Did he think all of this a lie? A con determined to swindle them into complaisance? As far-fetched as the story was, something about this man…

“And you?” Enoch barked the words.

Nathan’s jaw lifted. “They took me. Took four other boys with me. We were slaves a while. Eventually, there was a mutiny. We got off. I’ve moved around from one cargo ship to another since then.”

James finally spoke up from Enoch’s other side. “And our father thought you were dead this entire time.”

“He did.”

“For how long?”

“Nigh on thirty years.”

Enoch took half a step forward.

Robert jerked a hand up and settled his palm flat against his brother’s chest. He couldn’t let Enoch run this stranger off. Not until they knew the truth of his claims.

Enoch didn’t take his focus from the man in their yard.

James spoke again. “Why are you here now?”

“Last year, I decided to find him…my father.” Nathan’s voice came lower now. “It was a bit of a shock for him. To see me alive and well.” Another pause. “I suppose I didn’t turn out quite the way he’d planned when I was a wee bairn.” He flashed a smile that held little humor.

So many questions churned in Robert’s mind. And he still had his hand pressed against Enoch’s chest. He would lower it, but his brother’s body was coiled tight enough to blow like a geyser at any second.

CHAPTER 14

“So why are you here?” James repeated his question.

Which was good. They needed this final part of Nathan’s story. His tragic raising didn’t matter as much as what he intended to do now that he’d come to this ranch. If any of it were actually true.

Nathan straightened. “He knew immediately who I was, and a few belongings I’d managed to keep from my mother confirmed it for him. I spent a few months with him in London and Cumberland, then he sent me to you. He thought it might be good for us all to meet. Also, I think he’s hoping a bit o’ your gentlemanly behavior will rub off on me.” The grin that surfaced on Nathan’s face looked far more like a sailor’s sneer than anything else he’d shown.

Then his gaze lifted from them to the house around them, shifting even to the mountains beyond. His tone dipped to something appreciative. “I see why you love it here. It’s a bit more peaceful than all of London’s bluster.”

His attention snapped back to them. “I’ve a letter from our father. A sort of introduction, as it were. Permission to take it from my pocket?”

“Permission granted.” James spoke slowly. Maybe slightly amused with the request, or this stranger’s odd way of comporting himself. But likely also just as wary of hidden motives as Robert was.