Indulgence 2: One Glimpse (28 page)

Family

It was half past four and the eagerly fashionable were already making their way to the footpaths and carriage lanes of Hyde Park. The most illustrious members of the ton would arrive a short time later, once their audience of lesser gentry had been given time to assemble. It was a ritual Sam had known most of his life, but today he hardly noticed it as he let his horse do the driving.

Last night had been amazing. He could not describe it, not without the words sounding mad to his own ears. Perfect? Heavenly? The most wonderful night of his life? Even if he never said it, or even thought it too clearly, he knew it was true.

The most amazing, passionate night of his life, and it had been followed by the best morning he could remember. There had been just that brief moment of worry when he woke to find himself pressed against John’s side like a limpet, his arm and leg thrown over John’s hip for good measure. He had tried to move away gently, only to have John pull him back and kiss his hair, drawling words like “warm” and “good” and “just a little longer.” The only blight on the morning had come when it was time for Sam to leave the house without John.

One always had to be cautious.

It was a rare sunny day in London, and Sam took a moment to close his eyes and lift his face to the warmth. The way he had tilted his face up to John’s parting kiss only hours before. But this time he was wearing his hat, and it slid back off his head.

Sam cursed as he twisted in his saddle to catch it, only to find it being presented to him on the tip of a riding crop.

“You should take more care, sir,” John said around a smirk. “These sunny days make fools of us all.”

Joy. Had Sam ever really known it? Was it supposed to feel like sliding into a warm pool?

“With foolishness so common, it’s a wonder we don’t have more sunny days.” Sam popped his hat back on his head. He could not stop smiling.

“I was hoping to see you here,” John said, bringing his horse closer. “We didn’t have a chance to discuss anything this morning.”

Sam drew a slow, deep breath. He thought he knew what John would like to discuss, and he hoped John’s feelings on it matched his own.

“I want to see you again. That is, I hope you do as well.” John cleared his throat and faced forward. The teasing glint was gone, replaced by stiff anxiety. Sam hated it, and yet his baser self could not help but be pleased. John Darnish was worried that he, Samuel Shaw, might not wish to see him again?

“You are so stupid,” Sam said happily. “I want to see you again, John. Tonight. Tomorrow. The Saturday after next. Better to ask me when I would not want to see you.”

“Well.” John’s pressed his lips against a grin. “Tell me when you would
not
like to see me, then.”

“Devil if I know.”

John let up a whoop of laughter, drawing the attention of several passersby.

“Careful,” Sam whispered. “You will gain me a reputation for being amusing.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“The worst. If people think you are a wit, they expect everything you say to be clever.”

“How exhausting.”

They were silent for a time as congestion on the path increased. John’s popularity was in full force as they had to stop several times to exchange greetings with various people, many of whom were perfectly polite to Sam while also failing to hide their curiosity. Sam could almost hear their thoughts.

Why is Lord Darnish keeping such close company with Sir Samuel?

Have they always been friends?

I don’t recall seeing them in much company before.

Sam was not bothered. The fact surprised him, for it was just the sort of sideways snobbery he despised, but today he met their curious smiles with a bigger smile of his own. And perhaps his voice was a little stronger, and perhaps he sat a little taller in his saddle. He was happy, damn it.

“I almost forgot,” John began after they made farewells to another group, “I saw your sister when I rode in.”

“Kat?”

“No. Miss Shaw,” John said, referring to Flor.

“Ah.” Sam frowned a bit. He had been a bit neglectful in his duties of late. No, that was being too kind. In truth, he had hardly spared a thought for Flor or her season in weeks.

“Was she strolling with someone?” Sam asked. “I will have to escort her and Kat somewhere tonight. I have been shamefully remiss. What?” He made the last at seeing John’s pinched expression.

“She was riding atop a very fine-looking curricle. With Evers.”

Sam’s frustrated snarl was more than he intended. Damn him for being so lost in his own concerns! If Evers had gone so far as to be taking Flor for rides in the park, it meant the association was further along than he had thought.

“You dislike him,” John said simply, though it was a nudge for more.

“I do, but…” Sam sighed. “It is not so much my dislike that concerns me. It’s his. I would not see my sister joined with someone who despises me. How could that fare well if I wish to ever see her again after she weds?”

“Why do you dislike each other so much? Be sure, I can understand why anyone would avoid his company, but with you it appears different.”

“Special?” Sam scoffed. “It is, though don’t ask me why. He has hated me since we were lads at Harrow. He despises weakness. He sees a crack in a man’s armor and finds delight in prying it open. It’s all Henry’s damned fault—” He sucked in a breath. Idiot.

John watched him silently. It was his quiet patience that made Sam pull down the wall. “I want to tell you, but not here.”

John nodded, and that warm awareness between them returned as they drove their horses as a lazy walk. It vanished as soon as Evers’s curricle headed toward them.

“Sam!” Flor called. She was flushed and smiling, and sitting far closer to Evers than Sam would have liked.

“You’re looking well, little sis,” Sam ground out.

“You notice it too?” Evers crooned. “Perhaps she will listen to her brother.
I
can’t convince her to accept any compliment.”

The leather reins creaked in Sam’s grip.

“Compliments like that are for dimwitted ladies who will believe them.” Flor said, lifting her chin. “Elliot is showing me his new curricle. Isn’t it grand?”

Elliot.
Sam forced his lip not to curl as Evers looked right at him with a broad smile.

“Not a bad cart, Ev,” John tossed out. “You should see Farnsworth’s new high perch. Sam and I had a chance to look it over out at Mosley’s place.”

Sam glanced at John. His tone was almost gloating.

“You were out to Mosley’s, then?” Evers’s smile faltered a bit when he looked at Sam. “Didn’t know you were a hunting man.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, that explains why you weren’t here to escort Flor about. Lady Crowl asked me to fill in a few evenings, and I was more than happy.”

The devil!
Sam almost stood up in his stirrups. It was one thing to dance attendance on Flor at public functions and take her for rides in the park, but escorting her and Kat anywhere was practically a betrothal announcement. How could Kat allow such a thing?

“I see. And has something taken place in my absence that would make you so familiar with
Flor
?” Sam said her name like an accusation. He had always called her that. He was the only one who called her that.

Evers’s smile vanished, his blue eyes turning cold before it all twisted into a convincing image of chagrin. “Yes, well,” Evers began, “I think I would like to call on you tomorrow afternoon and have a word.”

Don’t bother.
But Sam could not say that in public. Such a slighting of Evers would ruin Flor’s reputation, as gossip would spread that she had been spending time with a gentleman her guardian disapproved of. There was no accounting for the ton’s strange ways.

Instead, he clenched his jaw and nodded mutely. At least Flor had the good grace to look guilty, adjusting the fit of her gloves and not meeting his eyes.

John cleared his throat. “I believe we are blocking the path. Good day, Miss Shaw. Ev.”

Evers grinned and tipped his hat, treating John’s flat tone like a friendly farewell. Flor, much to Sam’s dismay, appeared to be oblivious to the tension in the air and was already smiling as Evers drove on.

“That was interesting,” John hedged as the curricle moved off.

“And intentional. He is compromising her, and he damn well knows it. I would not have thought Flor to be taken in by such false flatteries.” When John made a sound like biting off words, Sam turned to him. “What is it?”

“Well, perhaps she isn’t fooled. I got the impression before that your sister is not holding hopes for a love match. Perhaps she knows Evers is mercenary, and she sees her own gain in choosing him. His father is an earl, after all.” John shrugged an apology.

Sam was not offended. How could he be? Flor had said nearly the same thing to him weeks ago. She knew she would be chosen for her dowry. Still, she had looked genuinely happy and something in her posture suggested that she was taking Evers’s attentions seriously.

“I hope you’re right.” Sam sighed. “I do not wish to see her hurt.”

John was watching him closely when Sam faced him again, as if gauging his words. Then John asked, “Do you have hopes she will make a love match?”

Sam wanted to say yes and felt rotten when he realized her could not. “No. Flor is a wonderful girl. Kind, clever, even if she can be a bit lofty about her accomplishments at times.” He managed a small laugh. “But she is not beautiful, and that is what matters. The ton will assume that any man who offers for her is doing so for her money, which is why I don’t want her to fool herself. Better that she enter the situation aware than be disappointed later when she learns her husband only wanted to line his coffers.”

When seconds passed and John said nothing, Sam feared he had burdened him with an unwanted topic. But when he looked up, John stared at Sam in a way that turned his insides hot.

“Most brothers would hardly care. Most would have sold her off quick as you please to whatever puffed old fool provided the greatest political favors or the most advantageous connections.”

Sam was startled when John leaned toward him and whispered behind his hand, “I am going to ruin that mean, curmudgeon reputation you have worked so hard for, Sir Samuel. In fact, before I am through, every matron in London will be begging for you to brighten their garden parties.”

“Stop it!” Sam hissed, but he was unable to fight his smile, or the other physical reaction making him uncomfortable in the saddle.

“No, I don’t think I will,” John said airily. “You’ve revealed yourself to be far too wonderful to tease, and now you have only yourself to blame. I can’t help it.”

“You can’t help it?” Sam put on a glare, fully enjoying himself.

“Not in the least.”

Sam reached to touch John’s arm, but caught himself and made to adjust his hat instead. It did not escape John’s notice, for the man’s smile was almost preening. They encountered more groups and stopped to make friendly greetings. John introduced Sam to several prestigious people he had passed in close company with for years, but with whom he had never exchanged a word. The friendliness and obvious favor in John’s introductions troubled Sam at first, but he reminded himself that John already had a reputation for being personable.

“Sir Samuel.” A titled lady, whose name Sam struggled to remember, tested his name as if trying to recall it. “Ah, yes. That questionable business with Lord Brenleigh. I believe he was within his rights to demand satisfaction you know.”

Sam gritted his teeth. Ladies, as a rule, did not discuss gentlemanly affairs like duels, but the older matrons often ignored such restrictions. For a moment, Sam tried to recall the proper response he should give. Had it really been only two weeks since John’s social schemes had saved him from this briar patch?

“He was indeed, ma’am,” Sam said, remembering to sound apologetic. “It is lucky for me that H—Lord Brenleigh is a sober-headed man.”

There. Enough to satisfy his groveling persona without giving Henry any more than his due. Henry. Along with Flor and that damned Elliot Evers, he was just one more thing Sam had neglected of late.

And Julian.

Good Lord.
Where had his mind been this last month?

John extracted them from the conversation with the same concern about blocking the path. As soon as they were past, he leaned toward Sam and whispered, “Speak of the devil. I wish I knew now what your quarrel was about rather than later.”

Sam looked ahead and, sure enough, saw Henry and Richard riding toward them across the lawn. Sam and Henry’s eyes met. There was no avoiding it, for a quick glance around told Sam that too many people had already noticed and were watching, waiting to see what would happen. Sam wanted nothing more than to ignore Henry, but it was not an option. It would be nothing less than the cut direct.

“All right,” John whispered, as if hearing Sam’s thoughts. They pulled up reins and came to a stop at the edge of the path, meeting Henry and Richard at angles.

“Afternoon, Darn. Just get back from Mosley’s?” Richard opened, his voice measured.

“Yesterday, in fact. You missed some good shooting,” John replied lightly, his easy manner firmly in place.

From the corner of his eye, Sam knew Henry stared at him. He braced himself. “Afternoon.”

Henry blinked, perhaps surprised that Sam had spoken to him. “Afternoon, Sam. You just got back from the hunting party too?”

“Yes, though I can’t agree with John about the shooting. I didn’t fire a shot. I was a terrible guest.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Henry’s lips twitched over a knowing smile. It was Sam’s turn to be startled, and irritated. He did not want to see knowledge in Henry’s eyes. He did not want to remember how much he had shared with him, how much Henry knew about him.

“Yes, well.” John laughed. “If you’ve ever been to one of Mosley’s so-called hunting parties, you know he is usually the only one doing any hunting at all.”

“Too true.” Richard seconded, casting glances between Sam and Henry. The four of them fell into an awkward silence, as if aware that they were being watched but unable to proceed. Henry’s posture was stiff, but the shifts in his expression suggested he battled the urge to speak.