to.” Wishing his brother would give up the argument, Tolly continued to pretend to be interested in the stack of calling cards on the hallway table. None of them were for him, but that didn’t signify.
“Who is this Dr. Prentiss, anyway?”
Bartholomew went through the stack for a third time. “I met him through a…friend.” Not that he considered the Duke of Sommerset to be a friend, precisely, but he wasn’t certain how else to describe him without revealing the entire Adventurers’ Club business. “And he’ll do as well as anyone, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t! You have both legs. You need simply to thank God for that and leave it be.”
Bartholomew gazed levelly at his older brother. “I do not have both my legs. I have one leg and one anchor dragging and clanking with me wherever I go. As I said, I didn’t ask your permission. I informed you because I’ll be off my feet for a time. If you prefer that I do this elsewhere, I w—”
“Don’t even begin throwing that garbage in my direction.” Stephen jabbed a finger at him. “You are not going anywhere. And whatever you think of my opinion, this is too risky.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, myself,” Bartholomew said slowly. “I need to risk this. I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for that, at least.”
“You’re welcome.”
When Stephen still showed no sign of going away, Bartholomew muttered a curse and limped to the base of the stairs. The narrow, closed-in servants’s stairs were easier to descend, but he needed to hang on to the railing of the main staircase to climb up.
Three steps up from the bottom, he heard Stephen start after him. As soon as his brother’s arm closed around his shoulders, he shoved backward. “No!” he growled, panicked at being grabbed from behind even though he knew damned well who it was. He’d known before, too, eight months ago.
“I don’t understand,” his older brother grumbled, returning to the foyer. “You never used to behave like this.”
“No, I don’t suppose I did.” Wrapping his hand around one of the balustrades, he hauled himself up another step. “He’ll be here at noon. I’m going to have a drink.”
Stephen stood back, watching his stubborn, fearless, athletic younger brother hitching himself up the stairs step by painful step. They’d received word from the damned butler that Tolly had returned to England. No word from Tolly himself, and still no explanation about what, precisely, had happened in India.
All he knew for certain was that Tolly had been injured, and badly. And he knew that his good-humored brother didn’t smile or laugh any longer, that he was curt and angry and on edge. If Tolly had decided to risk the loss of his leg by having it intentionally re-broken, there was clearly nothing anyone could do to change his mind.
That did not mean, however, that he could stop himself from worrying. And from wondering—if Tolly with an injured leg was unpredictable and barely civil, what might Tolly with only one leg attempt?
With a shudder Stephen returned to the morning room to explain to his wife and his sister that Tolly had not been joking and that they all might very well have just seen him on his feet—both his feet—for the last time.
Chapter Seven
“Making a match is always to be left to the man. If he is so occupied with being manly and adventurous that he doesn’t consider affairs of the heart, well, then he is a man whom I would not wish to marry. Setting your cap for such a man is both futile and foolish.”
A L ADY’S G UIDE TO P ROPER B EHAVIOR
Y our cards this morning, Miss Tess.” Inclining his head, the butler held out the silver salver piled with calling cards.
Theresa wiped jam off her fingers and lifted the cards. “Thank you, Ramsey.”
“Those are all for you?” Michael asked as he strolled into the breakfast room. Planting a swift kiss on Grandmama Agnes’s cheek, he came around to rest his hands on
“Who is this Dr. Prentiss, anyway?”
Bartholomew went through the stack for a third time. “I met him through a…friend.” Not that he considered the Duke of Sommerset to be a friend, precisely, but he wasn’t certain how else to describe him without revealing the entire Adventurers’ Club business. “And he’ll do as well as anyone, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t! You have both legs. You need simply to thank God for that and leave it be.”
Bartholomew gazed levelly at his older brother. “I do not have both my legs. I have one leg and one anchor dragging and clanking with me wherever I go. As I said, I didn’t ask your permission. I informed you because I’ll be off my feet for a time. If you prefer that I do this elsewhere, I w—”
“Don’t even begin throwing that garbage in my direction.” Stephen jabbed a finger at him. “You are not going anywhere. And whatever you think of my opinion, this is too risky.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, myself,” Bartholomew said slowly. “I need to risk this. I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for that, at least.”
“You’re welcome.”
When Stephen still showed no sign of going away, Bartholomew muttered a curse and limped to the base of the stairs. The narrow, closed-in servants’s stairs were easier to descend, but he needed to hang on to the railing of the main staircase to climb up.
Three steps up from the bottom, he heard Stephen start after him. As soon as his brother’s arm closed around his shoulders, he shoved backward. “No!” he growled, panicked at being grabbed from behind even though he knew damned well who it was. He’d known before, too, eight months ago.
“I don’t understand,” his older brother grumbled, returning to the foyer. “You never used to behave like this.”
“No, I don’t suppose I did.” Wrapping his hand around one of the balustrades, he hauled himself up another step. “He’ll be here at noon. I’m going to have a drink.”
Stephen stood back, watching his stubborn, fearless, athletic younger brother hitching himself up the stairs step by painful step. They’d received word from the damned butler that Tolly had returned to England. No word from Tolly himself, and still no explanation about what, precisely, had happened in India.
All he knew for certain was that Tolly had been injured, and badly. And he knew that his good-humored brother didn’t smile or laugh any longer, that he was curt and angry and on edge. If Tolly had decided to risk the loss of his leg by having it intentionally re-broken, there was clearly nothing anyone could do to change his mind.
That did not mean, however, that he could stop himself from worrying. And from wondering—if Tolly with an injured leg was unpredictable and barely civil, what might Tolly with only one leg attempt?
With a shudder Stephen returned to the morning room to explain to his wife and his sister that Tolly had not been joking and that they all might very well have just seen him on his feet—both his feet—for the last time.
Chapter Seven
“Making a match is always to be left to the man. If he is so occupied with being manly and adventurous that he doesn’t consider affairs of the heart, well, then he is a man whom I would not wish to marry. Setting your cap for such a man is both futile and foolish.”
A L ADY’S G UIDE TO P ROPER B EHAVIOR
Y our cards this morning, Miss Tess.” Inclining his head, the butler held out the silver salver piled with calling cards.
Theresa wiped jam off her fingers and lifted the cards. “Thank you, Ramsey.”
“Those are all for you?” Michael asked as he strolled into the breakfast room. Planting a swift kiss on Grandmama Agnes’s cheek, he came around to rest his hands on
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