“Bell House?” John raised a brow.
Blast. Not meant to say that. It felt right, though.
“You know,” John said, “when you were building… Bell House, you seemed… driven. Like you were following a vision, working toward something… forsomeone.”
He had been. Beatrice’s vision. For her. Every wall and stroke of paint, he’d built it for her. He nodded. No point hiding it now.
“At the time, I thought you were thinking of your future, a family perhaps.” John nudged Richard’s boot with the toe of his own. “I did not know you had a particular person in mind.”
“I didn’t think about it too hard, either.” It would have been too painful to look up from the work and realize he was doing it for a woman who would never live there.
“Does she… feel the same?”
Richard couldn’t answer that. Throat too tight. He croaked out instead, “Daniel.”
John sighed. “Yes. Daniel. I suppose we should turn our attention to that particular topic.”
Richard told him, John listening in silence until all was done, and then he said, “What do we do?”
“Turn him in to the constable. Send him away.”
“It’s different… doing it ourselves. He’s a horrible person, but… Watching him carted off to a hulk versus…”
“Doing it ourselves…”
“Precisely. Do you believe him? That he just wants to be at the wedding?”
Richard shifted. Daniel was so damn difficult to understand. “I do not know. He’s selfish fifty-nine minutes of every hour, then will surprise you at minute sixty. Every word that comes out of his mouth is impossible.”
John picked at a loose thread on the chair arm. “You should have told me you were going to write to him.”
“Probably. But your entire life had been interrupted by the children, Daniel’s children. I wanted to keep the avenues of communication open with him, but I did not want to put more on your shoulders.”
“Thank you. But he’s my responsibility, too. More so than he is yours.”
Because they shared the same mother, because Richard didn’t really belong. “How’s that?” The question almost caught in Richard’s throat.
“Because I’m the marquess.”
Such a simple answer. Not the one Richard had expected. Relief sailed through him like a calm breeze.
“But I should rely on you more. There’s no man as dependable as you, Richard. I’m damn lucky to have you as my brother.”
Richard had always known John loved him, had always known John accepted him perhaps as no one else did. But it was… good to hear him say it. “You are.” Said gruffly. “And I am too.”
They cleared their throats and looked away, then John gave a nervous laugh that Richard caught up, too. It spilled easiness between them. Renewed and welcome.
“You look a bloody mess,” Richard said. “Daniel gave as good as he got. You are going to stand up and take Evie as your wife with a cut lip, bruised jaw, and black eye.”
“He looks worse,” John grumbled.
“Naturally. But he’s not getting married today.”
John seemed to chew on something, then said, “Evie thinksyoushould take a wife. But… I don’t want you to leave. You’re the only brother I have left. I like working with you and seeing you every day and— Bloody hell, this is difficult to say.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “What I mean to say is thank you. And… whatever you need to do, I support you. What I want doesn’t matter. It’s not your fate to take care of Slopevale and me for the rest of your days.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Truth. He loved his home, his family. But he would. Because he loved Beatrice, too, wanted her to be his family. And he would do what he must to have any little piece of her she was willing to give. “I’ll remain as long as you’ll have me. I… I didn’t mean to endanger the children. You know I would never?—”
“I know. I know. And I do not think Daniel is a danger to them.”
