Page 12 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

Colin followed him, not knowing what to think. A woman? And an infant, so real Colin had heard it with his own ears? It would be absolutely shocking if true.

Miss Sedley certainly hadn’t put much stock in Mr. Bass’s abilities.

What was it she’d whispered to him, about invisible wires and all that?

He’d thrown her a fraught look as everything went to shambles; she had stared back at him with those uncannily dark eyes and the slightest hint of a grin on her lips.

As if she were having a lovely time. What went on in that one’s head?

Colin wondered, his own head on a swivel as he tore through the halls of his family’s home.

And what must she think of us all? And then, surprisingly, What must she think of me?

He frowned at the unexpectedness of the last question. He couldn’t think on that now—Sir Colin was never one to leave a man behind.

Holding his breath, he poked his head into his father’s study. Thankfully, Beaky was not within, and Colin released a deep sigh as he resumed his search.

He finally located his best mate, catching him in the act of raiding the drinks cabinet in the library. Beaky must have heard Colin’s approach, for his posture tightened even though he did not turn around.

“Gin?” Beaky asked casually, as if he weren’t offering Colin his own liquor.

Colin frowned.

“Is it true?”

Beaky finished pouring himself a hearty portion, at least three fingers. He took a long swallow, then stared at the tumbler in his hand for several moments.

“Do you believe it?”

Colin felt a flash of panic, as if a mortar had been unexpectedly fired next to him.

For some reason, Colin recalled the two of them many years prior—newly ensigned, standing upon the deck of their ship in harbor. They’d been so proud to don the uniform, to wear a midshipman’s dirk at the hip. Already grown men in their own estimation.

“No,” he belatedly replied.

And then, as if to both convince himself and strengthen the brotherly bond between them, he added, perhaps too heartedly, “Of course not. Absolute bollocks. That man—Mr. Bass—why, he could have been speaking of anyone. From any point in history!”

A slow grin spread across Beaky’s face.

“Can you imagine it? Me, fathering a child? Why, I’m nearly a child myself.”

Colin began to protest, but Beaky went on.

“Still only a lieutenant, anyway,” he said, his tone harsher now. He collapsed in a chair and took another hearty swig. “No time for romance and all that bosh,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “A wife… a nursery… I shudder to think.”

Colin had a thought, though. He felt uncomfortable even entertaining it, but given the circumstances, he could not let it go unsaid.

“But, ah…” Colin began walking across the room, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Romance need not be a prerequisite for fathering a child.”

Cunt and gunpowder . Suddenly he felt ashamed once again that Miss Sedley had heard him utter those words.

“Oh,” Beaky sighed, looking very low. “Fucking, you mean.”

Colin colored. It was an involuntary reaction; he couldn’t help that he shared the same complexion as every other person with red hair. But Beaky took umbrage.

“Come off it, Colin. There’s no captain here, no one’s approval to seek,” he groused. “No merits to win for refusing to lift the skirts of a pretty face.”

Tumbler at his lips, Beaky murmured, “How very much like a spaniel .”

It was a wonder how, after so many years, the childish taunt could knock the wind from Colin’s lungs. He balled his hands into fists and steadied himself. It was only meant as a jest, he knew.

“At any rate,” Beaky groaned, throwing his head back into the armchair, “my mother will never see reason.”

Colin froze. If Mrs. Pearce would insist on taking the medium’s words at face value, then Colin’s own mother would as well. Which meant—

“How does she fare, anyway?”

“Who?” Colin asked, his mind galloping far into the future, where the consequences of the cursed spirit circle could impact his plans for his own life.

“My mother,” Beaky sighed.

“Ah—I think she’ll be sound, in time. My mother and…” Colin paused, thinking woefully of how pretty Alice had looked in her dress. “She and your sister are tending to her.”

“She’ll never forgive me,” Beaky moaned, a hand covering his eyes. “Though I daresay it’s her own fault, dabbling in this spiritualist nonsense. It’s a joke of the lowest order, is what it is.”

Colin didn’t want to think of Mrs. Pearce. Or even, to his shame, of his best friend languishing in a moment of dire need, his reputation hideously slandered. And under Colin’s own roof, no less.

No, Colin only wished to think of Alice.

He’d meant to marry her. Not now, of course, nor even anytime soon. There’d been no promise, nor even any kisses beyond a few innocent, childish pecks. But it was an unspoken understanding. An eventuality.

Eventualities had ruled Colin’s life from the moment he’d received his first toy boat.

But if Beaky truly had fathered—and abandoned—a child somewhere in the Mediterranean, then Colin would be forced to give up his expectation of taking Alice as his bride.

His mother would never allow it, to say nothing of his father.

Colin swallowed at the mere thought of what the commodore might do, were he to offer for the sister of someone with such a blighted reputation.

A massive sigh from the armchair indicated that Beaky had been thinking along similar lines.

“What am I to do?” he said, his voice laced with anguish. “If word gets out, I’ll be snubbed from all corners!”

“No, I’m certain that…” Colin started, but he did not believe his own lie enough to bother completing it.

Beaky looked up at him suspiciously.

“Why, you’re already scheming on how to extricate yourself from our friendship, aren’t you?”

“No!” said Colin emphatically, horrified at the charge. “I would never!”

“I’d never before wished I was Kettlewell,” muttered Beaky, staring into his nearly empty tumbler. “What I’d give to be put to sea just now.”

Colin watched his friend drain the remnants of his gin, unraveling by the moment as the liquor took hold. Beaky looked up, his eyes already glassy.

“My life, it’s been smashed to pieces in a matter of minutes. And for what? Nothing… merely the whims of some arrogant scoundrel!” He stared at Colin, his face wretchedly contorted. “You’ve got to help me.”

Colin set his jaw. He thought of Alice. He thought of his mother’s face, strained and disappointed. He thought of his father, as hard and unyielding as a slab of granite.

No, he couldn’t allow this to happen. A heavy weight settled upon his shoulders; a worrying tightness pulled behind his eyes.

Very well.

“I will.”