We were back at Albany in a few minutes. There was a lot to be said for the small size of Georgian London.
‘I will go and find Garrick,’ Lucian said as he opened the front door.
I escaped gratefully to find the privy. It was a man’s world out there – they had their clubs and their coffee houses or, at a pinch, an alleyway. Ladies had to keep their legs crossed until they were in a private house.
I went into the drawing room when I had finally wrestled the layers of petticoat into submission and stopped dead on the threshold. A youngish, blond man was sprawled on the carpet playing with model soldiers.
He got to his feet when he saw me. ‘Please do not tread on the Allied front line.’ His smile was infectious. And beautiful. So was the rest of him. I slapped on a polite smile of my own, got my hormones under control and registered two things. He was obviously related to Lucian – the nose was a dead giveaway for a start – and he was gay. Probably. OK, I am not the world’s sexiest woman, but I had scrubbed up pretty well that morning and I went in and out in the right places and although he was studying me with interest there was not the slightest hint of masculine appraisal in that look.
He was curious about who I was and why I was there, but that was it. Which meant, if I was correct, that he was a man in danger at a time when his orientation could take him to the gallows. Not likely for one of the upper crust, they would flee abroad if scandal broke, but even so he must have to watch his every word, every action.
‘I am James Franklin.’ He held out his hand. ‘Dreadful of me not to wait for an introduction, I know.’
‘Cassandra Lawrence.’ I took his hand. ‘Your long-lost cousin from Boston, America.’ I sat down.
‘I have a long-lost cousin?’ He subsided back onto the carpet with loose-limbed grace and began packing away the soldiers in their wooden box.
‘If you are Lord Radcliffe’s brother, then, yes, you do now.’
‘And you are visiting London. Where are you lodging, Miss Lawrence?’
‘Here. And call me Cassie, Lucian does.’
His jaw dropped, just a little. ‘I see.’
‘I don’t think you do.’ I had a nasty feeling that this was the third person who was going to be let into my secret. ‘It is absolutely not like that.’ Unfortunately.
‘Like what?’
‘What you were thinking.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Who are the toy soldiers for?’
‘My nephews. Luc’s twins.’
Chapter Eight
It was a good thing I was sitting down. Lucian himself came in before I had the chance to make an absolute idiot of myself by seizing his brother by the neckcloth and shaking him until he told me about Lucian’s wife.
‘James, what the blazes are you doing here? I thought you were down in Brighton.’ He sounded pleased to see his brother, but the look he sent me was one of warning.
James got up again and gave his brother the sort of hug cum shoulder buffet that passes for affection between men. ‘Bored, cold and convinced I was missing out on something.’ He glanced at me. ‘And I obviously was.’ He bent and picked up the last of the soldiers then pressed the box into Lucian’s hands. ‘For the brats.’
‘Jas, they are two.’ But Lucian was grinning. ‘I suppose they will grow into them.’
‘And we can play with them in the meantime.’
‘Lady Radcliffe does not join you in London then?’ I asked, as cool as I could manage after two minutes of deep breathing.
‘No, she prefers the country estate.’
James said, with an air of perfect innocence which did not convince me for a moment that he was unaware I was fishing, ‘Our mama, the Dowager Countess, that is. She takes care of the twins in the fresh Suffolk country air.’
‘But – ’
‘My wife died giving birth,’ Lucian said. He sounded perfectly cool and collected about the fact. It was two years ago. Had he loved her?
‘I am so sorry. You must miss the children.’ What else was there to say?
‘I get back to see them at least once a month.’