Alex had been eight when his mother succumbed to lung fever. It had been agreed that, with a father so often abroad, it would be best for Alex to spend the majority of his time at the Coles’ family estate of Haldon Hall, where the late duchess’s dearest friend, Lady Thurston, could properly supervise his rearing.
He and Whit, already fast friends, had become brothers in everything but name, and Lady Thurston had dealt with Alex accordingly, rejoicing in his accomplishments, encouraging him through failures, fussing over his appearance, scolding him for his transgressions. In short, he had been treated as a well-loved son. He would not repay her kindness now by getting Whit further involved in the miserable business of treachery and espionage.
“I want you to stay out of this,” he said succinctly.
Whit gave him a rueful smile. “You know I won’t. Besides it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
“No, you’ve introduced me to Lord Loudor and some of his acquaintances and that’s enough. There’s no reason for your continued involvement.”
“Except, of course, that I want to be involved. In fact, I insist upon it.”
“You have other responsibilities.” Alex insisted. “You’re the head of the family and the Thurston estate requires attention—”
“Do you know much about our earldom?” Whit cut in.
Alex blinked in surprise. “Only that you’ve done a remarkable job thus far, cleaning up the mess your father left.”
“Thank you, but I’m referring to its history. Are you familiar with it at all?”
“No…I can’t say as I’ve ever given it much thought, now that you mention it.”
“Let me enlighten you. We are a pack of liars, thieves, and wastrels, the lot of us.”
Alex thought that unlikely, but held his tongue. The late Lord Thurston certainly fit that description well enough. Whit had spent the four years since his father’s death battling to secure the family’s finances, as well as the family name.
“Do you recall the summer my mother forced me to stay a fortnight at my uncle’s home?” Whit asked.
Alex smiled at the memory. “We were thirteen and you offered your mother every imaginable incentive to let you stay at Haldon Hall. I believe you even made a list.”
“I did, and it was cleverly done, for all the good it did me. Fortunately, Uncle Henry was as pleased to have me for company as I was to be there. He let me spend the entire two weeks hidden away in the library. That is where I discovered a most detailed and disturbing account of my family’s history—no doubt why the recounting was there and not at Haldon. There is not an honestly gained parcel of land in the whole earldom. Every acre, every village was stolen through one reprehensible manner or another. Deceit, blackmail, extortion, all of it. It’s disgusting.”
Alex waited a moment to make sure Whit was quite through before asking, “How long ago?”
“Did we steal the land, do you mean?”
Alex nodded.
“Up until about a hundred years ago, then the wastrels took over.”
“I see.”
“It’s important that you do,” Whit said somberly. “Because I am determined not to add another chapter to that book. I will leave my family a legacy they can be proud of, something they can carry on. I don’t know if it will be akin to your own Rockeforte legacy but…I’ll not let this opportunity pass.”
Alex wanted to argue further. He wanted to point out all the holes in Whit’s logic, all the reasons it was an exceedingly bad idea for him to continue working for the War Department, but he knew it would come to nothing. There were few people who could match Whit for sheer mulishness, and like most stubborn individuals, the more one argued with them, the more determined they became to do as they pleased.
“Your mother will kill me if anything happens to you,” Alex grumbled.
Whit grinned. “Mother loves you too much to kill you. Kate, on the other hand, would surely slit your throat, loyal little sister that she is.”
“God help me.”
Whit chuckled softly for a moment before taking on a more serious expression. “To business,” he insisted. “What do you make of our new friend?”
Alex decided to let the matter of Whit’s involvement drop, for now. “He’s an ass,” he replied.
“Certainly, but do you think he’ll prove an accommodating sort of ass?”
“Loudor gives the appearance of being an overindulgent fop, stupid and conceited enough to brag about his ventures if plied with enough liquor. But if he’s been playing the traitor’s game, then he’s been at it for a while and he hasn’t slipped up yet. Either he has more sense than he lets on, or he’s innocent.”
“I can’t say it’s easy to reconcile myself to either of those options. Perhaps he’s just been lucky.”
“Perhaps.”
“How are you planning to handle Miss Everton?”
Alex ignored his friend’s accentuated use of the word “handle.”