He came up with it in his hand and slammed it on the tabletop before he pivoted to face his brother. “I know I wasn’t at my best,” he barked. “I’m not a fool, no matter what you think of me. But I don’t need a father, Roseford. And if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”
Roseford flinched, as did Selina at Katherine’s side, and for a moment they all stood in the wake of Morgan’s imprudent retort. One he wished he could take back as he saw its impact. Too much, too far.
The story of his life.
Robert drew in a long, shaky breath and Morgan waited to be kicked out of his parlor once and for all. Instead, his brother ran a hand over his face as if he were very tired. Then he said, “I would never try to be that to you,” Robert said softly. “I’m too young, for one.”
Morgan smiled slightly at the attempt at the joke. It cleared the room of some of its tension. “You’re seven years older than me. Thirty-three is ancient.”
Robert shook his head. Seemed he wasn’t willing to play away the serious issues at hand as easily as it had originally seemed. He glanced at Selina and Katherine, almost with uncertainty.
“Morgan, when you started having trouble last year, when I got wind of…of the problems you’d caused. Of the consequences you were about to face, I never judged you, did I?” Roseford asked.
Morgan flinched. That was how the two of them had come to meet face to face. He’d gotten into some trouble with that same friend who had been at the club last night. Roseford had been the only place to turn in order to avoid…well, to avoid a dire outcome, indeed.
“You didn’t,” Morgan agreed through clenched teeth. “Though it appears you intend to do so now.”
To his surprise, Roseford’s expression softened. “No,” he said quietly, holding Morgan’s gaze. “I would never. Not only because I have no leg to stand on when it comes to behaving badly.”
At the fireplace, Katherine let out a tiny snort and Robert shot her a playful glare.
“But also,” he continued, “Because I have no idea of what would make you feel you have to behave in this manner. I know you’ve lost in your life—”
Morgan held up a hand. “I will not discuss that with you.”
Robert inclined his head, though Morgan thought he saw a flash of hurt in his eyes before he hid it. “Very well. Perhaps one day you’ll trust me with some part of yourself that isn’t the act you present to the world. Or not. That’s your choice. What isn’t your choice is how your behavior affects those around you.”
“Like you,” Morgan sneered.
Roseford shrugged. “Yes. Me and our family name—”
“It’s not my family name,” Morgan interrupted.
“Morgan,” Selina said softly from behind them. When he glared at her with the same ferocity he had gifted their brother, she shook her head. “Glare daggers at me all you like, but Robert is not the same as our father. He doesn’t deserve such censure.”
Morgan pursed his lips. “Perhaps not,” he conceded with great effort.
Robert sighed. “I can take the censure, I assure you. My greater concern is that you are wrecking yourself and you have been for some time. Do you deny you are running through your money?”
Morgan folded his arms. “Checking up on me, I see.”
“What choice do you give me?” Robert threw up his hands. “Yes, the account is one I can look in on and I choose to do so. It is obvious you need a settling influence, Morgan. To find your place in the world by one way or another.”
Morgan stared at him, confused by the true worry of Roseford. He didn’t have many people left in his life that truly gave a damn about him. He didn’t let most people close enough to care or to damage. He knew better than to be such a fool.
So he turned, as he always did, to frivolity to mask the darker emotions, to put up the wall he required. “Are you arranging a marriage for me?”
Selina snorted, and even Katherine laughed as she stepped up next to Robert and placed a hand on his forearm a second time. “I think your brother has something else in mind, Morgan.”
“Have you ever met my friend Hugh Margolis, the Duke of Brighthollow?”
Morgan shifted at the question. His brother had a group of friends, everyone knew about them and their close bond. Everyone said they were like brothers…and Morgan hated that the description stung him. He didn’t want to be brothers with Roseford. So why the hell did he care if Robert found other men to care about in that way?
“I think I’ve met him in passing,” Morgan said with a shrug. “Stuffy fellow, yes?”
Robert laughed and glanced at Katherine like that was some great joke. “Once I might have said so myself. But no, just honorable. It’s hard for people like us to recognize that sometimes, but there’s great value in it.”
“What does it have to do with me?” Morgan asked, stifling a yawn in the hopes his disinterest would move this conversation along. He wanted to get out of here and find a bath and a bed.
Robert held his gaze. “He’s in the market for a new man of affairs.”
There was something in his brother’s tone that brought Morgan up short. “And?” Roseford didn’t answer, just kept staring, and Morgan jolted in understanding. “Wait, me? You can’t mean me.”
But it was obvious that was exactly what Roseford meant. “It would settle you to have a vocation. Brighthollow intends to return to his country estate for a few weeks, so it would also take you away from London and its bad influences. You need that.”
“What I need is a stiff drink and a fuck,” Morgan muttered, and then jerked his gaze to Katherine. “Apologies, Your Grace.”
Katherine fought a smile. “I have heard the word before.”
Selina winked at him. “Wait, do you have no apologies for me?”
Morgan rolled his eyes. “You invented the word. And you can’t tell me you support this nonsense. Me, going to work for some toff?”
Selina’s playful demeanor faded and she shot Robert and Katherine a quick glance. The couple seemed to understand it, for Robert sighed and escorted Katherine across the room to the window, where they stood together, heads close. Katherine was talking to him, low and gentle. Soothing him, it seemed.
And Morgan was left with his sister. Selina slipped up to him and took his hand again. She smiled, but the expression didn’t quite meet her eyes. She had softened, which was a rare thing, indeed. Selina, like himself, was expert at keeping herself separate from difficult emotions and tenuous connections.
Which meant she took this very seriously, indeed.
“Morgan,” she said, her voice low. “Perhaps a few months ago, I would have stood here at your side and battled Roseford about this subject. I would have claimed everything was fine and the danger was manageable.”
“You’re not going to do that now?” Morgan pressed.
She shrugged. “A few months ago, Nicholas almost died. He’s still in grave danger.”
Morgan shifted. Nicholas Gillingham was one of the legion of their bastard siblings. He was Morgan’s polar opposite: honorable, proud. He had served in the King’s Army and been badly injured in the Battle of Toulouse, nearly died.