Page 17 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

A little bell tinkled above the door to the solicitor’s office as Lucas entered, ducking his head to avoid hitting it.

After the anxiety-ridden afternoon with Charlie and Miss Faraday, he was grateful to be back to work, doing what was usual and comfortable to him.

No beautiful young women distracting him.

No brushing of shoulders making him wish to jump from the phaeton and walk home.

And when she’d grasped at his leg in fear of the carriage turning over?

The anxiety was returning just thinking about it.

“We are closed,” a disembodied voice called out from somewhere in the back office.

“It is I, Sperry.”

“Ah, Lord Berkeley.” Sperry came out into the front room, surveying Lucas through his spectacles. “Very good. I shall be out of your way in a minute.”

“Thank you.” The two men did not share another word as Sperry collected his things and tidied up his desk. Only as he exited the shop did he nod his head in farewell. Lucas returned the gesture before slipping into the back office.

He sat at Sperry’s desk, foot tapping the floor.

What were the odds that the men he was to meet that night would show up?

About half, perhaps more, of those who’d planned a meeting with Lucas never arrived.

It was equal parts frustrating and disheartening.

How was he to help a man who did not want to be helped?

He checked his timepiece again. Thirty-seven minutes until he needed to be home and three minutes past his meeting time with Tom Bredford.

He rubbed his jaw. If the man did not come in the next ten minutes, Lucas would move on to anticipating the arrival of the next man and hope to see Bredford at the next match.

Or else ask Colin to keep an eye out for him.

Hopefully it would not come to that. Lucas desperately needed to lose himself in helping others just then.

The bell above the door tinkled. Lucas straightened in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. The first man had come.

“Come in,” he called, already pulling up several files of job possibilities before the man had even entered the room.

Looking at the many pages delineating employment options made Lucas’s chest swell with pride.

Not pride for himself, exactly. Pride for his sister.

She would have loved the work he was doing.

She was why he’d begun it in the first place, though somewhere along the line, his own desires to help had matched his desire to atone for taking the life of someone whose entire existence had centered around helping others.

A man appeared in the doorway, nearly Lucas’s height, but wiry as a fire poker. His hat brim was folded over in his hands, but he met Lucas’s gaze squarely. “Lord Berkeley?”

Lucas nodded.

“I thanks ye for seeing me, my lord.”

“Of course. Please, sit, and we can discuss your options.”

The man hesitated, not moving for the open chair Lucas had indicated. Lucas came to his feet as well, his brow raised not more than a millimeter.

Bredford worried his hat brim even more. “I ain’t here for charity.”

Lucas nodded.

“I wouldna come if it weren’t for the kids.”

Lucas nodded again.

“And me wife. She don’ deserve the life I’ve given ’er.”

Lucas watched the man, taking his measure.

Bredford was one of the good ones; Lucas would have been able to tell as much even if Colin hadn’t sent the man.

He didn’t deserve the hand he’d been dealt.

“Sit down, Mr. Bredford,” he said again, infusing his words with weight. “We’ll get you sorted out.”

The man ground his bottom set of teeth forward, watching Lucas with just as heavy a look. Then he nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

Lucas wasted no more time. “Tell me your skills, and we’ll find a place for you.”

***

Little brothers were annoying.

Charlie lay across a couch, tossing a book in the air and catching it over and over, the rhythmic whoosh and thump as much a distraction as Charlie’s interrupting questions and random anecdotes.

He spoke infrequently enough that Lucas was able to get back into his work for a minute or two before being derailed by another comment.

“Would you say Miss Faraday’s eyes are just blue, or do they have a hint of green to them?” Charlie asked.

Lucas did not feel the need to answer. Though the answer was that they were a deep blue, with a hint of black, if anything. Where Charlie had gotten green from was beyond him. He made a note on the report he was reading and skimmed a few more paragraphs.

“Gentleman Jackson says I am improving a fair amount in my boxing.”

Lucas made a noncommittal noise, writing down a few lines at the end of the report, then setting it aside to finish a letter he’d started that morning.

Tom Bredford, the man he’d been helping the night before, had been digging canals for the past six months.

The pay was low and the work, grueling. But he did enjoy working with his hands, so Lucas was writing to a couple of estate owners to see if they were in need of a new tenant.

Tom would do well as a farmer, and his children would love the fresher air—especially the youngest, who seemed to be dealing with an ailment of the lungs.

“You should give boxing a go sometime. With your size, you’d not need much skill to overpower an opponent.”

Lucas flicked his brother a glance. “It takes more than size to win a fight.”

Charlie tossed the book into the air again. Whoosh, thump. Whoosh, thump.

Lucas looked back at his letter, noting a drop of ink. He scowled.

“We shall have to see about that. I imagine I could take you.” Once again, Charlie had waited just long enough to be bothersome before responding.

Lucas shook his head but kept writing. The desk in the library was smaller than the one in the study, and his still-sore shoulder protested the need to hold his arm up more.

“Miss Faraday greatly enjoyed Green Park, you know. She seemed particularly interested in some of the flora. Apparently lavender has medicinal purposes—did you know?”

Lucas pressed his eyes shut, trying not to envision Miss Faraday walking away from him on his brother’s arm and the twist it had brought to his gut.

“She seems to have a knack for medicine. She told me just what to put on a bruise I have from my last go in the club.” Charlie had taken to spinning the book now, two of its corners pressed against his middle fingers while he spun it with his thumb.

Lucas set down his pen entirely. “Charlie, can you not see how ridiculous this is?”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

“This courting scheme. Do you or do you not enjoy the company of Miss Faraday?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then just court the woman, dash it.”

Charlie lifted his eyebrows. “It sounds like you do not enjoy the company of Miss Faraday,” Charlie said. The book slipped from his fingers in his inattention and smacked him in the face. He grimaced, setting it aside and sitting up.

Quite the opposite, in fact. Lucas was beginning to feel too invested in each moment spent with the woman, and as such, it would be wonderful if Charlie would just give up the scheme altogether.

But at the same time, Lucas would worry over his brother’s intelligence if he did just that.

Miss Faraday seemed to have a quiet wit, a care for Tarrington’s tenants, and enough social graces to include both him and Charlie in the conversation when possible.

Lucas did not wish his investment to grow any deeper.

Maybe it would help if he focused more on her faults?

She could not pour tea. And there was the incident with Charlie’s pants, and. ..

Dash it, was that really all there was?

His hand flexed. “It does not matter whether I enjoy the company of Miss Faraday; you are the one courting her. Or not courting her. Or—agh!” He came to his feet, his body itching with the need to move.

He paced the length of the room twice before he realized that Charlie had yet to respond. Lucas turned back to him.

His younger brother’s face was a mask of surprise.

“What?” Lucas demanded.

“Nothing. It is only...” Charlie blinked twice, as if reorienting himself. “It has been quite some time since I have seen you lose your temper like that.”

“What do you—” Lucas stopped, realizing the extent of the situation. Charlie was right. He had lost control, had yelled, even. When was the last time he’d done that?

The night Marietta had died, that was when.

He’d yelled at the men attacking them just before they’d knocked him unconscious.

And then, when he’d come to and seen their ransacked carriage and his sister on the ground with a blow to her head, he’d yelled into the pouring heavens for letting it happen.

He’d yelled and yelled until his voice had grown hoarse.

He didn’t yell anymore after that. He didn’t feel anymore after that.

At least, he tried not to.

Lucas pressed a fist to his forehead. “Forgive me, Charlie.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, watching him with far too much scrutiny. “Nothing to forgive.” He stood, making for the door. “But you still owe me three outings with Miss Faraday. I was thinking of taking her down the river to Richmond Park next week.”

Lucas blew out a breath then nodded. “Of course.”

The door closed behind Charlie, and Lucas paced back to his abandoned desk.

Instead of sitting down, he stared absently out the window.

The surge of emotion from earlier brought a flood of recollection.

For a moment, the sunny day seemed to dissolve into rain.

Lightning flashing against the sky. Marietta pushing from their carriage to see what was the matter. He pressed his eyes closed.