"He is a smoky fellow, but he can help. The man has his fingers on the pulse of civilization, it seems."

The smile grew broader. "He will get the message, I swear."

Rex believed him, as he saw a wash of blue through the veil of pain. He tried to lift his hand to shake his new relation's, then let his drop to the mattress when he could not get it past his shoulder.

"I owe you."

Harry tucked the blankets up. "Not at all. I always wanted a brother."

"Did you know I existed?"

"Almost from the day you were born. The earl was so happy, so proud. And he did not want me to hear the news through the grapevine."

"But he did not care if I did?" Then Rex grew more upset. "Why did you not come find me? I wanted a brother, too, someone who could answer questions."

"You were an infant, my boy. Later, our father was convinced that you would be embarrassed. I think he did not want to admit to a youthful indiscretion. Your mother, well, she did not want to acknowledge me at all."

"They were wrong."

"I think so, too. We'll make up for the lost years as soon as you are well."

"And you will look after Amanda for me now?"

"Of course."

He spoke too readily for Rex's comfort. "I say, are you married?"

"No, I have not found the right woman yet. You know, one who will understand our, ah, idiosyncracies."

Both of them thought of their father and his wife. Rex said, "You wouldn't want to live with a woman who did not accept what you are."

"No, but it appears you have found a treasure who just might do. Judging from her tears, she's fond enough of you to accept anything."

Rex was not going to discuss his feelings toward Amanda and marriage, not with a man he had met twenty minutes ago. "I am not sure yet."

"Well, I better be going in case you decide, to make sure you can have the bride you want, if you want." He headed toward the door.

Rex stopped him. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Truly."

Harry smiled. "What are brothers for?"

Chapter Twenty-seven


Amanda took the first chance she could to nip into Rex's room. The newcomer had gone, Lady Royce was resting after her night's vigil, Daniel was again out combing the streets for the would-be killer, Nanny was in a laudanum-induced sleep, and Murchison was furiously scrubbing his lordship's uniform to get the bloodstains off it. They all knew the viscount could purchase another and was resigning his commission shortly anyway, but Murchison needed something to do.

So did Amanda. She was tired of fretting outside Rex's door waiting for news of his welfare or of Daniel's hunt. Daniel had laughed when she pleaded to accompany him, blood in her eyes. She was already accused of one killing, he'd said. That was enough. Amanda was so mad she felt another murder would not matter. Besides, ridding the world of the rat who had thrown the brick at Rex was not murder; it was extermination.

Amanda dismissed the footman who was assigned to watch the viscount until Lady Royce or Murchison arrived. The man protested that he had his orders to stay, but Amanda took a page from her godmother's book, raised her eyebrows, tapped her foot, and crossed her arms. The servant left.

Amanda walked softly toward the bed. Rex was lying so still, his eyes closed, that she feared her worst nightmare had turned true, but no, someone would have told her. She could breathe again.

They had him dressed in a white nightshirt that was far too big. He slept naked-Amanda blushed to think of how she came to know that-so they must have borrowed the bed gown from Daniel. The cuffs were folded back, his hands atop the covers with billows of fabric at the sleeves, like a buccaneer pirate's shirt. The overlarge neck opening gaped far enough for her to see the start of that faint line of soft, dark hair down his chest, the well-formed muscles. She clenched her fists to keep herself from reaching out to touch him, to make sure his heart was beating. Closer now, she could see that his chest was rising and falling in even measure, not labored or strained. She took another breath.

Between the white nightshirt, the white sheets, and the white bandage on his head, Rex could have been a ghost, or one of those Egyptian mummies they'd seen. His face had almost as little color, but he was alive and not in the troubling coma any longer.

She was as quiet as she could be, intending to sit in the chair and watch, or will him to recover, but a sigh of relief must have escaped her. His blue, blue eyes opened. He blinked a few times as if trying to remember where he was, who she was.

"It is I, Amanda."

The viscount tried to smile without moving anything that might hurt. "Yes, I know. I was just making certain you weren't a dream. For a minute I thought I had died and gone to heaven."

She pulled the nearby chair closer to his bed and sat down. "Silly. You are not going to die."

"No matter how much I feel as if I am ready for the grave, or so Harry told me. Did you know I had a brother?"

"I heard. And I met the gentleman earlier. He did not disturb your rest, did he?"

"Other than shaking the foundations of my life's history and my confidence in my parents' wisdom, no."

"He is rather formidable, don't you think?"

"Formidable? Did you find him so? By George, he was not insulting toward you, was he?"

"Oh, no. He just seemed confident and commanding, somewhat like how you appeared to me at first."

"Arrogant, you mean?"

"Not at all. You were a soldier, an officer, every inch a gentleman. And he is…" She did not quite know what Harry was. "A self-made man, I suppose, yet a gentleman."

"Indeed, and I admire him for that. I found him to be a fine fellow, one I would like to know better. Handsome, too," he added.

Amanda laughed. "What, are you fishing for compliments? You must know he could be your twin, except he is older and does not have the distinguished scar on his cheek. But you are far better looking."

"I am? How do you figure that, if we are so alike?"

"His nose is perfectly straight. It has no character."

"Do not make me laugh, my skull hurts too much." He raised his hand an inch or two off the mattress. She took it and carried it to her cheek. "Oh, Rex, I was so worried."

"Don't you know I have the hardest head in the kingdom? Except for my father, perhaps."

"But you could have died!" She brushed away the tear that had fallen from her cheek onto his hand. "And it was all my fault."

"Hush, angel. You were not to blame. How could you be? I was the bacon-brained idiot who went off alone with nothing but a dog and a flimsy sword stick. That was almost as foolish as walking into the French patrol."

She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. "You rushed off without thinking because you were upset with me. You would not have gone near Mr. Johnston's house in the first place except on my behalf. I daresay you would never have encountered the man at all, because you would not have been in London if not for my difficulties. I have brought you nothing but trouble. And now this." She turned her face away, knowing tears upset him.

He squeezed her hand, not with any degree of force, but enough to make her look at him. "You have brought me awake."

She pulled her hand away, ready to leave. "I am so sorry. They said you should not sleep constantly, but if you are weary…"

"No, I mean awake to life. I was half-dead back in the country, with no ambition and no goals or desires, nothing but clouds on the horizon. I am still not certain about what to do with myself, but now I have seen the rainbows and the stars, thanks to you. I would trade that for any number of broken heads."

Amanda found her handkerchief and blotted at new tears caused by his words, not her guilt. "You will do something fine, I know. You will help your father, and you will help your Inspector Dimm. You will learn to be as good an earl as your own sire." That was her fondest hope and most fervent prayer, that he would realize his duty to beget the next heir, no matter what mutton-headed vow he'd sworn to himself.

He reached for her hand again. "Thank you for your confidence in me, that I will be a worthy successor to the title."

"You believed in me, remember?"

"Ah, but I had proof."

"You did? Then we can disprove the charges against me?" In a perverse way Amanda was disappointed. She was thrilled not to be awaiting the gallows, of course, but once exonerated of the charges, she'd have no excuse to reside with Lady Royce. Lord Rexford would have no further need to stay on in London. "Did you find evidence at Johnston's house?"

"Um, not quite. My proof is not exactly submissible to the court."

"I do not understand."

"I want to explain, truly I do. Perhaps I will be able to make you see someday." He made a feeble attempt at an excuse: "When I am feeling better."

"I will try to be patient." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I hear footsteps. That is either the footman with the beef broth I sent him to fetch or Murchison with your uniform. Murchison is to sit with you this afternoon."

"You'll come back?"

His wanting her company meant Amanda would move heaven and her godmother to visit him again. "As often as your mother permits me. She thinks we must behave with discretion, especially with our increased notoriety after your incident."

The footsteps she heard were more a scrabbling of hurrying claws on the bare wooden floor, through the door Amanda had left open for propriety's sake. "Oh no!"

She threw herself in front of the viscount just as Verity launched her heavy body to rejoin her master on the bed.