Grace Burrowes - Beckman: Lord of Sins

He insisted on seeing you off.

Beckman Haddonfield heard his sister Nita clearly, though shed whispered. The Earl of Bellefonte, glowering at his grown children from the foot of Belle Maisons front steps likely heard her too.

Your lordship. Beck stepped away from his gelding and sketched a bow to his father. Even at this early hour, the earl was attired in morning dress that hung loosely on his stooped frame. His valet and the underbutler were flanking him, each holding a bony arm and trying to look as if they werent touching their employer.

Leave us. His lordship didnt look at his servants as he gave that command. You too, Nita. I wont perish from the cold, though it might be a welcome relief all around if I did.

Nitas blue eyes turned mutinous, though she gathered her shawl more tightly around herself and ascended to the wide front porch.

The earl watched her go then turned to regard his son.

He stabbed his cane in the general direction of the mounting block where Becks horse waited. Get me to the damned mounting block before I fall over.

Beck took his fathers arm and assisted him to shuffle along until the earl was propped against the top step of the ladies mounting block.

His lordship rested both gnarled hands on the top of his cane. No dignity left whatsoever. Soon I wont be able to wipe my own arse.

The truth of this brought a lump to Becks throat. One shudders to consider the fuss youll make then. If youre about to tell me how to find Three Springs, save your breath. I have directions.

Im about to tell you I love you, the earl groused. Though such maudlin tripe hardly makes a difference.

Beck went still, hearing a death knell in his fathers blessing. One has suspected this is the case, Beck said slowly. One hopes the suspicions have been mutual.

The earls slight grin appeared. Couldnt have danced around a tender sentiment better myself. You really should have been my heir.

Stop disrespecting my brother, Beck retorted, but inside, oh, inside, he was feeling as decrepit and tired as the earl looked. His father loved him, something he had known without realizing it, but his father had also said the words aloud. More than the earls frail appearance, this indicated the man was indeed making his final arrangements.

Ive said my piece, now get you off to Three Springs and put the place to rights. Ive every confidence the solicitors have let it go to wrack and ruin. The earl made as if to rise, something Beck suspected he couldnt accomplish on his own. Beck drew him up, but not just to his feet. With Nita trying not to cry on the porch, the underbutler blinking furiously, and the footman staring resolutely down the drive, Beck gently hugged his father.

Papa. He barely whispered his words past his fathers shoulder. I dont want to leave you.

He had never wanted to be sent away, but each time, hed known his banishments were earned. This time, try as he might, the only fault he could find with himself was that he loved his father.

The earl said nothing for a moment then patted his sons back. Youll be fine, Beckman. Ive always been proud of you, you know.

Proud of me? Beck stepped back, depositing his father gently on the mounting block. Im nothing more than a frivolous younger son, and that is the plain truth.

A flattering version of the plain truth, too.

Bah. You should have gone to London with Nicholas and selected yourself another bride, though I suppose youve been trailing him long enough to be ready for a change in scenery.

Hes sending me away, Beck thought, his self-discipline barely equal to the task of maintaining his composure. Hes sending me away, and were discussing my possible marriage to some twit hungering for Nicks title.

When Nick is in the room, the ladies do not see me.

The earl thumped his cane weakly. Balderdash! Nick is a good time. You are a good man.

Nick is a good man, Beck said, a note of steel creeping into his voice.

Hell be a better man and a happier man for finding the right countess. It is the besetting sorrow of my dotage that my sons have not provided me with grandchildren to dandle upon my knee.

His lordship loved a good scrap. Heart breaking, Beck obliged.

You would not know how to dandle if the regent commanded it of you.

That prancing idiot. The earl snorted. I am glad I will be dead before the full extent of his silly imitation of a monarch can damage the country further than it has.

Its too cold to be discussing politics in the drive, Beck said, ready to have this most painful parting over. Particularly when youve had nothing different to say since the man had his fathers kingdom imposed on him several years ago.

Youre right. Its been the same damned nonsense all along. Pavilions and parks, while the working man cant afford his bread, and the yeomans pasture is fenced away from him at the whim and pleasure of the local baron. Pathetic. Absolutely damned pathetic.

Utterly. Good-bye, Papa.

The earl leaned forward again, signaling Beck to get him on his feet. You will be fine, Beckman. Keep an eye on Nick for me, as you always have, and think again of remarrying. Good wives have their endearing qualities.

Yes, Papa. Beck mustered a smile, hugged his father again, and waved the underbutler and the footmen down the stairs. God keep you, sir. He resisted the urge to cling to his father, knowing hed embarrass them both if he stayed one moment longer.

I wish to hell the Lord would see fit to take me rather than keep me, the earl muttered. Perhaps patience is the last lesson He has reserved for me. Safe journeys, Beckman. You are a son to make a father proud.

My thanks. Beck swung up, nodded to his sister where she stood clutching her handkerchief at the top of the stairs. He touched his crop to his hat brim then nudged his horse into a rocking canter.

He did not look back. It was all he could do to see the road for the chill wind making his eyes water.

Sara Hunt took a final swallow of weak, unsweetened, tepid tea, looked out at the miserable day, and decided before the last of the light faded, shed poke through the contents of Mr. Haddonfields enormous wagon.

Lady Warne had written instructing the household to make her grandson welcome as he came to take Three Springs in hand, but she hadnt said exactly when hed arrive. If Sara was to make a proper inventory of the goods sent ahead of their guest, shed best do it before the mincing Honorable was underfoot making a nuisance of himself.

She grabbed her heavy wool cloak, traded her house mules for a pair of wooden sabots, took up a lantern, and slipped out the back door. On the stoop she paused, listening to the peculiar sibilance of sleet changing to snow as darkness fell. If the sun came out in the morning, theyd have a fairy-tale landscape of sparkling ice and snow, the last of the season if they were lucky.

The barn bore the comforting scent of horses and hay on a raw day. The four great beasts that had pulled the loaded wagon into the yard the previous day contentedly inhaled great piles of fodder, while the wagon stood in the barns high, arching center aisle.

Sara had just hung up the lantern when she realized something wasnt right. A shuffling sound came from the far side of the wagon where little light penetrated. The sound was too big to be Heifer investigating under the tarps, not big enough to be a horse shifting in its stall.

She shrank into the shadows. Damn and blast if a vagrant hadnt spotted the laden wagon and decided to follow it to its destination in hopes of some lucrative larceny. The country roads were not heavily traveled, and such a load would be easily remarked. Silently, Sara directed her footsteps to the saddle room, sending up a prayer for Polly and Alliemay her sister and daughter remain in the house, or anywhere but this barn.