Chapter Eleven
June 29, 1818
Royce’s life had been turned upside down and inside out with the advent of Isobel and their unapologetically torrid affair. Ever since that night at the Serpentine, it had been as if a match was dropped onto dry tinder, and he couldn’t have enough of being with her.
For the last week and a half, he’d worked at his clinic like he always did, but the nights belonged to them, and he’d met Isobel in the most clandestine places about London. At one point, they’d even conducted a quick coupling in a wine cellar during a society event because they simply couldn’t wait.
Being with her made him feel vital and alive. Her enthusiasm had given him a hunger for life, and the fact they’d managed to be discreet about their relationship always felt like the best joke he’d ever played. Isobel was exactly what he’d needed to find a new appreciation in his existence, and like the strongest opiate, he craved being with her. He’d been touched by a Storme and now finally understood how difficult it was to ignore them.
“Hey.” The sound of Trey’s voice as well as the triangle of toast smacking him in the head yanked Royce from his musings. “What the devil is wrong with you this morning?”
He blinked, brushed the crumbs from his clothing, and then focused on his brother. “Nothing that I can see. Why?”
“You’ve been woolgathering more than at any other time I’ve ever known you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” He glanced at his breakfast plate and realizing that he hadn’t much touched his hamsteak or eggs, he speared a mound of the golden eggs with his fork. “I’m merely thinking about things.”
Trey grunted. “Do you have a woman? It would signify since you’ve been curiously absent from home lately and I rarely see you.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. A woman, a lioness, a lover, an addiction… But to his brother, he said, “My social life is uncommonly busy at present, but no, there’s nothing to concern yourself over.” He glanced at the carriage-style clock that sat on the mantle. Quarter past nine in the morning. Too many hours to wait until he saw Isobel again.
Another triangle of toast sailed across the breakfast table to bounce off his left temple. “You’re sinking into musings again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re going tip over tail for someone, but since I’ve not seen you squire a woman about Town, it must be something else.”
With a huff of annoyance, Royce brushed crumbs from his person again. Then he threw his napkin onto the tabletop. Clearly, he wouldn’t finish his breakfast so why even try? “Would you please leave off?” He narrowed his eyes on Trey, who sat there with questions in his expression and speculation in his eyes. “There is nothing in my life that is cause for alarm. I have much on my mind right now but will work through it.”
The least of which was how to grab a cat nap during the days at the clinic to make up for the lack of sleep he was receiving due to bedding Isobel every night as if he were a green boy just out of university.
“I rather doubt that.” Trey crossed his arms at his chest. “I know you better than you know yourself at times. To that end, you’re lying, and because you haven’t told me about it, that means it’s something big. Perhaps scandalous.”
“Such gammon.” Above all, he had to protect Isobel’s reputation. As a lady of the ton, she was in danger of becoming gossip fodder merely due to the fact she was a woman. Men could have affairs, and no one would bat an eye, but those same tabbies would gleefully tear down the character of a woman for the same sin.
“I don’t know why you’re lying, but I will discover why.”
Royce wasn’t given the opportunity to reply, for his sister Jane came pelting into the room, abject distress lining her face. He shot to his feet, as did Trey. “What’s wrong? Is it Finn?”
“No.” Jane’s complexion was uncommonly pale. Moisture lingered on her cheeks as a testament to crying. “Finn and I were informed not forty minutes prior. Hadleigh was there when it happened, for he was quite on Papa’s side of that same bill. He stayed to try and render what assistance he could…”
She made absolutely no sense. As worry circled through his insides, Royce crossed the room, slipped an arm about Jane’s shoulders, and led her to one of the empty chairs at the table while the butler hovered in alarm. “What is amiss? You’re quite upset.”
“Oh, Royce, it’s horrible!” Another round of tears took possession of her, and she gratefully accepted the handkerchief Trey offered. “Papa’s heart attacked him last night while he was on the floor of the House of Lords giving one last argument for the law he backed.” She mopped at her face. “You know there is heavy in-fighting in Parliament and he wished to make his party’s voice heard.”
“What?” His knees were suspiciously wobbly, and he promptly fell into the chair beside her. “Where is he? Why wasn’t I called for at once?” He shot to his feet again as the urge to render medical assistance burned strong. “I need to attend to him.”
Jane shook her head. She clutched at his hand with her free one. “I’m afraid he expired on the floor. According to Hadleigh, it was all quite sudden. Nothing he or anyone did could revive Papa.” His sister shook her head as tears pooled in her green eyes. “He passed on just after three this morning. But take heart, he was doing what he loved and believed in.”
“I can’t believe this.” Acute pain went through his chest, and he once more sank into the chair he’d just vacated.
Trey came around and kneeled at Jane’s side. He laid his hand upon her knee. “Where did they take his body?”
“Hadleigh said he directed the coroner to bring him home.” She cried all the harder. “But there’s no one there at present and he’ll be all alone. Oh, it’s horrible!”
“Shh. It will come out all right.” Trey patted her knee while shooting an aggrieved glance at Royce. “Good God, but our lives will change.”
“Yes, and I’m not ready,” he managed in a choked whisper as the enormity of his father’s death pressed in on him. Once they laid his father to rest and Parliament approved the legalities, the title of earl would be given to him. Icy fear twisted down his spine. He bounced his gaze between his siblings. His chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. “I thought I had more time.”
The whole of his life was shattering around him. What would happen to the clinic he’d worked so hard to build with his brother? How the devil was he to follow in his father’s footsteps and do right by the Worchester title? Hot bile rose up his throat. And most importantly, now that he’d be the earl and a titled peer, he would need to cease his affair with Isobel. Suddenly, she was a liability to living a respectful, proper life. Additionally, her behavior was acutely and potentially damaging when that the eyes of the ton would be focused upon him.
Dear God. How am I to survive?