Code of Honor (12 page)

"Tell me, Chilton," he said after a while. "What was your father like?"

Justin started in surprise. "What?"

"What sort of man was he?" Noticing the young man's consternation, he added a brief explanation. "Your sister asked me to look at... "

"The infamous letter," groaned Justin.

"Quite."

"I'm sorry, sir, that she saw fit to pester you with such nonsense. You needn't take it seriously."

"I take my word very seriously, Chilton. And I promised your sister I would endeavor to help. Now, it's an unusual sort of system he's devised. Sometimes someone with no training in the subject is tougher to crack than one who follows set principles or patterns. In my experience, it helps to know something about the person himself. Little things may help provide a key as to how a person thinks. "

Justin nodded slowly. "I think I see what you mean." He thought for a moment. "He was a... driven man, wrapped up in his own world. I mean, he was kind enough to us, but, well, even as a child I sensed there was a part of him he wouldn't share. At times, he would fall into dark moods — that was when he would go off on one of his trips, to gather material on his book. When he returned, things would usually be fine for awhile. Until the next mood." He seemed to be struggling with painful memories. "Alex had to take care of all the practical things, for our mother died when I was very young. I...I wish I could have helped her more." He caught himself. "I daresay this probably sounds quite ridiculous to you."

"Not at all," said Branford quietly.

Justin let out a breath. He had not made a cake of himself, then. More than that, he somehow sensed an understanding in the earl that made him not regret having made such private revelations.

The carriage had arrived in front of the modest townhouse Lady Beckworth had taken for the Season. As Justin made to dismount, he turned impulsively to Branford. "Would you care to come in for tea, sir? It is nothing out of the ordinary, but... "

He hesitated, suddenly feeling rather gauche — one didn't ask the Icy Earl to tea!

It was Branford's turn to hesitate, a look of surprise flitting across his normally impassive features.

"I believe I would."

He tossed the reins to his tiger, giving directions for the horses to be cooled down, then followed Justin up the stairs. An elderly butler took their hats and walking sticks, and Justin immediately headed for the library. Instead of waiting in the drawing room, as Justin had offered, Branford followed along.

"Alex, Aunt Aurelia, we have a guest for tea."

Alex didn't lift her eyes from her easel. She wore a shapeless smock over her gown, and a large paint brush was stuck behind her ear. It had dislodged a number of hairpins so that her thick tresses hung down in a bit of disarray on one side. A smudge of cerulean blue stood out on her cheekbone, the result of her constantly pushing the strands aside with the handle of the brush .

"What time is it?" she demanded, the annoyance at being interrupted quite evident in her tone. "Can't you send whoever it is away?" Then, as she looked up, she added, "Oh!" in little more than a squeak.

Branford walked deliberately towards the easel.

"My lord," she began.

He ignored her and came around to view the painting. "Hmmmm." He cocked his head to one side.

Alex put down the brush she was using and jabbed at her errant locks. "It is most disconcerting to be interrupted in the middle of my work. I told you, I do not make a habit of showing a work in progress..."

"It is progressing very nicely."

"It is extremely ungentlemanly to barge in uninvited," she countered.

Branford's eyebrows rose. "But I was invited."

Alex looked startled. She looked from the earl to her brother, then down to her own paint-spattered smock. Her hand flew once more to her hair in dismay as she realized the picture she must be presenting.

"If you will excuse me, I shall inform Cook that there will be one more for tea." She hurried from the room.

"Aunt Aurelia," called Justin in a loud voice to get his aunt's attention. "Lord Branford is to join us for tea."

"Oh."

Branford had to strain to make out the diminutive grey head that was barely visible from behind an enormous Moroccan bound book.

"How nice." She smiled vaguely in their direction as she let the volume close with a thud. "He isn't going to shoot anyone today, is he?"

Justin sucked in his breath.

"Rest assured, madam, I shall endeavor not to put a period to anyone's existence for the next hour," answered the earl with a twitch of his lips.

"My lord," said Justin in a low voice, tight with embarrassment. "I must apologize for my family's odd manners. It would be completely understandable if you wish to reconsider...

A look of unholy amusement glinted in Branford's eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, Chilton. I'm already enjoying myself immensely." To Justin's further surprise, the earl broke into what could only be described as a broad grin.

An hour later, Justin found he was amazed about a good deal of other things.

Branford reviewed the upcoming races at Newcastle with him, adding some very pithy anecdotes concerning the jockeys due to ride. He discussed Homer with his aunt, delighting the older lady by quoting passages in the original Greek. He also discussed — or argued, really — the aesthetics of garden design with his sister, seeming in no way taken aback by her strong opinions and vocal espousing of them. True to his word, he did seem, despite Justin's fears to the contrary, to be enjoying himself.

"What fustian," snapped Alex in reply to an observation the earl had just made. "That is a typically male point of view — if there is a rock where you want a tree, simply dump a barrel of gunpowder on it and get rid of it."

Branford regarded her thoughtfully. "And what, pray tell, would be a typical female reaction?"

"A female would look at the rock and the surroundings and consider whether the rock might work in harmony with a different arrangement of plantings and whether the tree might look just as well in another spot."

The earl's eyes crinkled in amusement. "And you, Miss Chilton, be honest. Would you settle for a rock in your garden?"

Alex smiled in spite of herself. "Quite likely not," she admitted.

"I rather thought not. I think you would inform the rock of all the reasons its presence was unacceptable there and it would take itself off of its own accord."

Justin let out a peal of laughter. "You have the right of it, sir," he said, ignoring Alex's indignant expression. "Why, I could tell you some tales of what Alex did... "

"Justin! I'm sure His Lordship is not interested in such childish nonsense."

"Remember the time you and father..." Justin stopped and a pensive look clouded the laughter from his features. "Lord Branford was asking me earlier about father, what sort of a man he was." He looked over at the earl. "Perhaps you should ask Alex and Aunt Aurelia as well, sir."

Alex shot a quick glance at Branford too. "You are thinking of the code?"

He nodded.

She thought for a bit. "Papa shared his passion for his work with us — his love of flora and fauna — but little of his private thoughts. He was very remote at times, even angry, though I could never imagine at what. For the most part he was—"

"He was a very troubled man."

Everyone turned to look at Lady Beckworth.

"I don't know quite why he married your mother," she continued. "Forgive me if I cause the two of you any pain, but I believe you are both of an age where you will understand what I am saying. Oh, he cared for Olivia and the two of you, but it was as if it were merely accommodating his... daily needs."

"It does not sound a great deal different than many marriages," observed Branford softly.

She nodded at him , acknowledging his quick insight. "Too true, my lord. But it was not mere indifference or indulgence. Something was eating at him inside. Something he wouldn't share with anyone."

"How did mama feel about it?" asked Alex.

"At first I believe she thought she could change him. Later, she accepted what part of himself he could give. As you know, he was never deliberately cruel."

But blindly selfish, thought Branford with an inward frown, to saddle a young daughter with the burdens of an adult. He noticed that Lady Beckworth's grip tightened on her teacup as she went on..

"I thought the fact that he let the responsibility of running a household and managing Justin fall on you at such an age outside of enough."

"I didn't mind," said Alex quietly. "And we had a very interesting time growing up, learning a variety of things, seeing different places as he worked on his Natural History of England."

"There is more to life than work and I shall always be cross with him for failing to realize that with his own children," replied Lady Beckworth, her tone gentle yet edged in anger.

"What of his family? What were his parents, his siblings like?"

Both Alex and Justin looked blank.

"He never spoke of them, ever. It was as if they... didn't exist, " said Justin.

The earl looked questioningly at their aunt.

She shook her head too. "I remember him telling Olivia that his family was — gone. He seemed unwilling to discuss the matter so she never pushed him further."

Branford looked slightly askance.

"Yes," acknowledged Lady Beckworth. "I suppose it sounds strange. But he was a respectable young man, introduced to Olivia by a friend of our family. It didn't seem so terribly important."

"So you have no idea where he was from?"

Lady Beckworth shook her head.

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it," mused Alex, "but in all our travels, Papa never once mentioned that we were near where he grew up or some such thing as that. And we went nearly everywhere."

"Except East Anglia," pointed out Justin. " Said he hated the fens. Said it chilled him to the bone."

Branford looked questioningly at Alex. "But I thought that is where you said he was when he had his accident?"

"Ironic, isn't it," she replied. "It was his first trip there. I imagine he knew he had to visit it at some time if he wished to finish his Natural History. After all, he couldn't very well leave it out."

It was a rational explanation, but something he couldn't lay a finger on was bothering Branford.

"Does any of this help?" asked Alex.

"I'm not sure," answered the earl frankly. "I shall have to think on it."

But he had little time to mull over it at the present. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour, causing him to put aside his cup and rise from the comfortable but worn wing chair.

"I fear I have lost track of the time. As I am engaged for the evening, I regret that I must take my leave." He bowed gracefully to Lady Beckworth, taking her frail hand and pressing it lightly to his lips.

She smiled warmly. "I hope you shall call again, Lord Branford."