Chapter Four

Curtis clenched his jaw as he strode from Huffton and Maria, her soft laughter following him as each step sealed her fate, and sealed his own. He was a mad man to hand deliver her to another man’s arms… his bed. The thought made his blood race with a fury, yet he suppressed the desire to turn about and make a cake of himself. Rather, he placed one foot in front of the other and walked away.

He had plans for the day; he’d not be deterred by bell-like laughter and a woman that could talk his ear off. As he made his way through the gate and toward the Garten residence where his carriage awaited, he pondered her mother’s actions. Truly, he had felt a shiver a dread when he met Lady Moray. The woman gave the word predator a face, and he was all too familiar with the intentions dancing in her gaze; yet what he couldn’t forget was the way she disregarded her daughter. Maria had confided in him once, telling him that her mother had claimed the reason she was unmarried was her inability to keep silent. Yet to a man, where silence was worse than the pox, he rather adored her incessant chatter. Although he had noticed that it only made an appearance when she was far too nervous to think through her thoughts before speaking, that wasn’t a detriment to her personality; rather a lovely faucet that illuminated a sharp wit and sensible humor.

He signaled to his coachman as he approached, and the man dismounted and opened the door for him to enter the conveyance. “Home.” He said the word, knowing that the meaning and the sensation of it were two very separate things, yet that was his truth, his sentence, his future.

The only thing waiting for him was a snifter of brandy and perhaps a new assignment. Expelling a heavy sigh, he tapped the roof of the carriage three times, knowing it would signal the driver to change destinations. How in heaven’s name had it come to this? As the conveyance made a turn and headed toward the residence of Lord and Lady Langley, Curtis gave a humorless laugh. The Forsaken Lord was now anything but, as he and his lovely wife had one heir and a spare on the way, the house once deserted by any joy, now was overflowing.

The carriage halted in front of the large stone residence, and before he even alighted, the butler had the residence door open and an eyebrow quirked.

“Tell me, Winston, what is the news today?” Curtis asked, a grin pulling at his lips as the butler very uncharacteristically rolled his eyes.

“I do believe Lord Langley will need another decanter of brandy.”

“Ah, did he drink it all?” Curtis asked, shrugging out of his coat.

“No,” Winston answered with a pinched grin.

“And you’ll not disclose the story?” Curtis asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I believe it is best… seen.” Winston nodded in the direction of the Langley’s study, and Curtis glanced back and forth between the door and the butler, hesitant.

Especially as he heard shouting.

But as laughter echoed after the shouting, he started in the direction of the sound. The heavy wooden door was already slightly open, and he pressed on the dark wood, causing it to swing gently inward. The sight that greeted his eyes was almost overwhelming — and exactly what he needed to distract him.

Two maids swept up the shattered remains of a decanter, while another mopped up the… brandy, judging from the strong aroma in the room. His gaze took in a smoldering hearth broom, its bristles almost burnt off as it rested on the stone next to the fireplace. The scent of smoke contended with the sweet and tangy fragrance of the brandy. Another maid was beating one of the heavy curtains next to Langley’s desk, and he noticed smoke swirling about as she did so.

What in heaven’s name had happened here? As his gaze swept the room, he noticed Langley sitting in a chair, three-year-old Thomas beside him. The poor lad was wiping his nose as tears slid down his young face.

Curtis was about to speak when he heard footsteps in the hall and turned to find Lady Langley approaching, her lips pursed as if trying to suppress laughter.

“Do I dare ask?” Curtis asked as she noticed his presence.

“If you can keep a straight face, yes. If you can’t, I’ll tell you later,” she murmured quickly as she entered the room and approached her husband and son. “Here, Thomas.” She placed a cool cloth to the child’s face, wiping off some of the soot that smudged on his cheek.

Langley rubbed his face with his hands, as if fighting inwardly. “Don’t even start, Curtis. I beg you.” He spoke in articulate tones.

“Very well.” He rocked on his heels, sniffing, trying to relieve the way his nose stuffed up from the smoke in the room.

“I’m s-so sorr-y.” Thomas tried to say as he wiped his nose once more, sniffling.

Curtis’ heart softened toward the clearly repentant lad. Poor guy had clearly been through a lot, probably self-imposed, but quite a bit regardless!

“I know, son…” Langley replied, his tone tired yet kind.

Tenderly, the once reclusive and dangerous lord reached out and pulled the little copy of himself into a tight hug, resting his head atop of his son’s. Curtis glanced away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he’d never know the affection — or devastation — of a three-year-old heir.

Amongst the ton, children were seen as a means to an end, a necessary evil for their titles to live on. Taught to be neither seen nor heard, the children were usually raised by a governess or servant. Curtis was thankful to see that Langley and Olivia didn’t adhere to the status quo.

And if he were a different man, he wouldn’t either.

But there were some things one couldn’t change.

“You mustn’t ever try to drink your father’s brandy.” Olivia spoke quietly.

“And if you do spill, do not use the hearth broom to try and clean it,” Langley added.

“Or put it back near the fire.” Olivia placed her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Mama.” Thomas nodded once, his little body shaking.

“And if something does catch fire, do not try to put it out by waving it around.” Langley speared his son with a direct gaze.

“Especially if there are other things that can catch fire.”

“I un-understand.” The boy sobbed slightly.

“But there was no one hurt, and that is what is most important,” his mother added.

Curtis simply watched as the family worked together, correcting and growing, a beautiful example of what a home should be like — minus the smoke.

“Now, run along and play. And please do not come in my office unless invited. Are we understood?” Langley waited till Thomas nodded once and turned to leave the room.

As the lad passed, Curtis reached out and smoothed the child’s mop of curly dark hair, marveling at its soft texture. Offering Thomas a grin, he was encouraged as the boy started to skip then run down the hall toward the stairs.

“One day…” Langley stood and dusted off his hands, his gaze taking in the disarray of his once-immaculate study.

“One day?” Curtis asked, ambling into the room.

“One day you’ll know the joy and terror of a little miniature Curtis Sheppard. And I’ll glory in the destruction it causes to both your sanity and heart.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Ah, yes. Not likely. The world cannot handle two of me. Would be unfair on females everywhere.” He joked about it, keeping his demeanor carefree and light.

“Still the confirmed bachelor?” Olivia asked, her regard sharper than her husband’s.

“Afraid so. All the worthy ladies are spoken for.” He shrugged his shoulders as if disappointed.

“None of that,” Langley growled, glaring at Curtis.

Curtis wagged his eyebrows at him.

“Not any better,” Langley grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he studied the dying fire in the hearth. “What brings you here? Not that I’m opposed to your dropping in uninvited.” He glanced to him, a knowing expression in his eyes.

Curtis grinned. He had long ago ceased following any sort of protocol when it came to his friend, Langley. Of course, that was back when he was concerned about the sanity of said friend due to his reclusive state, but when Olivia re-entered his life… that was the beginning of an awakening of sorts for the cynical lord.

Odd how things changed, yet stayed the same. Here he was, visiting the one place that used to house the forsaken, all because he felt too lonely to be at his own residence.

He disregarded the pathetic thought.

He paced about the room, sidestepping a singed piece of curtain. “Can’t I simply drop by to bless you with my presence?”

“If your presence was a blessing,” Langley retorted, sharing a smile with his wife.

He gave a broad sweep of his hand.

“We all know that it is. I light up a room simply by being in it.”

“Pity I can’t see the light.”

“Too much smoke.”

“Of course.” Langley rolled his eyes.