Barbara Metzger - Truly Yours

Rex decided to talk to Harry about leading Daniel astray, or following him. For now, he said, "Be careful, old chap. Even you are no match for an assassin's bullet or a thrown knife. And I don't fancy losing my new brother so soon, either. Look after him, will you?"

Daniel was laughing as he left.

Rex did not see the humor of his two kin out facing danger while he was stuck in bed, alone, so he decided to test his own strength by getting up.

Amanda found him on the floor, his disordered nightshirt leaving little to her imagination. "No, I am not hurt. No, I do not need a blasted footman to help me back into the bed, and no, you do not need to hide your giggles behind your hand. I missed that sound."

Once he was back under the covers, Amanda stayed and read to him from he knew not what volume. He enjoyed hearing her voice, smelling the light floral scent she wore, watching her chest rise and fall, with the ruby pendant between her breasts. She did not wear her mother's jewelry in public, naturally, she said, but she seldom left the house now, and then only to pick flowers in the garden or take Verity for a run in the park across the street. A footman attended her, she told him when she saw him frown. His father also did once, keeping to a slower pace, but looking at least ten years younger than when he had first arrived. "London, or the countess, appears to agree with him. He is a wonderful, gentle man. I can see why you both admire him so much."

Rex did not admire the earl at all when he interrupted their conversation an hour later, the book long forgotten. He had come to take his turn sitting with his son, he said. Besides, Miss Carville had callers.

Rex told her to stay, especially if the callers were Ashway and his sister again. Amanda was undecided about going until the earl said, "We will manage, my dear. You can leave without worrying about either of us. You cannot keep a Royce down forever, you know."

The earl watched her blush, and frowned at Rex. "Seems that's not all you can't keep down, eh?"

Amanda fled with her book and Rex's dog. The earl watched her leave, then smiled at his son. "I like that girl. I'd be happy to call her daughter."

Rex did not reply, showing a stony face at the overly personal comment. Besides, he had more than a few bones to pick with his sire.

Lord Royce pulled up the chair where Amanda had been sitting and settled into it. He sighed once, then said, "I suppose you are wishing I called Harry son."

Then he tried to explain why he could not.

Other gentlemen accepted their illegitimate offspring into their homes, he said, but they were always considered less than family, less than acceptable in polite society. That was no way for a boy to grow up, knowing he was not good enough, that his little brother was the chosen one. "But Harry was my son, and I did love him. I would have had him closer, but your mother hated the idea. She was jealous of his mother at first, then jealous of him, thinking I might love him more than you. Her jealousy planted seeds of doubt in my own mind."

Rex sat up against the pillows, pushing away the earl's helping hands. He folded his arms across his chest and declared, "My mother is an honest woman."

"Yes, but she was afraid of me, afraid of you. She loved you, I know, but she did not understand. She said she did not wish any more strange children. That was what she called you, strange. But you were beautiful, a joy, so I took her words to mean she did not want me in her bed. That was when I decided she must prefer some other man. Here I had this wondrous gift for the truth. How could I not use it by asking her?"

"You were a fool."

The earl's head sank to his chest. "I know. And your mother was rightfully insulted past bearing."

"She was more honest than you, keeping my brother from me to hide your own past sins, even after she left us."

"No, it was more than that, I swear. I thought I was acting for Harry's best interests, too, protecting him from the cruelty of his bastardy."

Rex knew that for the truth, although misguided. Who was he to say what was right, what he would have done under the circumstances? He listened as his father went on, desperately trying to make him understand.

"Harry had to make his way in the world. I would have paid for him to live abroad, in India or the colonies. I offered him an allowance, or an estate somewhere, but he would not have it. He had our gift too, of course, and he wanted to use it for the good of the country. The same as you did when you reached manhood," he reminded Rex, calling up memories of arguments about Rex joining the army.

"Harry chose to work in London, where he had been raised. My presence, or yours, would have ruined his chances and embarrassed your mother, dredging up old scandals and new gossip. Harry was doing brilliantly in his chosen career, on his own except for some inquiries and introductions I made for him. Your acknowledging him, coupled with my blighted reputation, could have destroyed the new identity he had, and after the Harrisons did such a fine job of rearing him."

"Harrison? Harris? Major Harrison?" Rex got out of bed and did not fall down this time, his anger strong enough to keep him standing and the room from spinning. He gripped both sides of his father's chair to make sure of his balance, and shouted, "My brother is the Aide? He knew who I was all these years? He put on those ridiculous disguises so I would not recognize him? I'll kill him."

The earl shook his head as if to rid himself of the discordant notes he heard. "That is a lie. You would do no such thing. And Harry constantly goes about incognito; he has too many enemies to do otherwise. Besides, he thought it a great joke. Now get back in bed or I shall call for your mother."

Rex went back, but he was still fuming.

"You must know that Harry has been invaluable to the country. He has also assisted with my work on the coast, putting a stop to the smuggling of state secrets, keeping spies and English gold from traveling between us and France."

"You?"

"And Marceau, of course. You know him as Murchison."

"What, is he a relative, too?"

"No, but his entire family was wiped out by Napoleon and his supporters. We have broken up at least six smuggling rings in the past few years and captured many more spies. What did you think we were doing so close to the coast, if not aiding the war effort?"

Rex had thought his father was moping, in fact, withering into old age. "And you did not tell me? Let me help?"

"You were at university and too young to let you get involved with such dangerous activities. Then you were in the army. Lately I was waiting for you to recover from your wounds, and from your malaise. I was hoping to retire from the spy business, let you and Harry keep England safe."

"He is still a bastard."

That was the truth. By both definitions.

After the earl left, Rex thought about trying to get up again, so he'd be ready to wrestle with his half brother. Maybe tomorrow, he decided when his head started to pound again. No, that was Amanda, tapping softly on his door.

Her cheeks were pale and her lower lip was between her teeth again, not good signs, Rex decided. She asked if she might bring her company to speak with Rex.

Not if it was Ashway, Rex thought. Did that nodcock come to ask his permission to pay his addresses to Amanda? Rex was her guardian, more or less, but he'd be damned before he gave her hand or any part of her to another man, especially one who did not appreciate what a gem she was in herself.

She stayed in the doorway. "My stepbrother and stepsister have come to London to see you. Will you meet them? Are you well enough?"

"Of course." He felt almost well enough to boot Ashway down the stairs. Surely he could see what Sir Frederick's progeny were made of, and whether they intended to do right by their stepsister. They would, by George, if they wanted that gold from the globe without a fight.

They were young, dressed in deep mourning, and nervous. The sister, Miss Elaine Hawley, squeaked in fear at the sight of Verity, who only wished to make friends, not drool on the chit's skirts, which upset the female worse. She was no beauty, although she was pretty enough in the current fashion, with her blond tresses falling from a topknot to frame a round face, a porcelain complexion, and blue eyes. The girl made a hurried curtsy, then cowered behind Amanda like a frightened fawn, or a seventeen-year-old orphan. Amanda pushed Verity out the door, then pushed Elaine into a chair, the farthest from Rex's bed. The new baronet, Sir Edwin Hawley, a few years older than his sister, showed some mettle, choosing to stand in his countrified tailoring where Rex could see him. After Rex's polite offer of condolences, and the pair's equally stiff inquiries into the state of Rex's health, Amanda said that her relations had things to tell him. She stared from one to the other. "Don't you?"

After a silence that lasted too long, Edwin cleared his throat. "I received notice from the London solicitor about the account you established. Thank you for finding the money and placing it in safekeeping. And for rescuing our sister, of course. I mean to restore what we can to her, once I see where we stand with Father's debts and bills. I know she is not to blame for anything, not the murder." He looked toward his real sister. "Nor the rumors. Tell him."

Elaine was mangling a handkerchief. Amanda took her hand and said, "Just tell him the truth. He will not shout or grow angry, at least not at you." She glared at Rex to make sure he did not frighten the girl more than she already was.