His statement didn’t faze Mars. He knew Ned’s story. “Your mum is a whore who is still celebrated to this day. And everyone knows Sarah Middleton can take care of herself. It is said that Nottoway is now keeping her. He is twenty years her junior.”
“If ever there was a woman who could teach a man something, it is the ewe that birthed me.”
“At least she gave you life.”
“Aye, and she never made that mistake again or gave me a sideways glance.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Mars leaned forward abruptly. “But don’t you ever want to take them all on?” he challenged. “Give them a good hard shake? You are a brilliant man, an excellent doctor. Why hide yourself away here in this farcical little society?”
“Because this is my home.”
The earl fell back. “We are both doomed.” He said the words with such dry, comic effect that Ned had to smile, and Mars answered it with a wan one of his own before admitting, “You are right.” He paused. “Do you know I tried to hire Royce away from you? He is too devoted to your service to leave. In fact, you are ten times the man your lordly half brothers are. You are the one who would have made a father proud.”
“I ceased caring about what any of them thought decades ago. When I was seven, in fact. That was when I finally realized no one was going to return for me. Ever. My sire paid for my studies and that was enough. You and Balfour are my brothers. I have little need of any others. And that is why I must beg you to stop indulging in pipe dreams, even if it is on a rare occasion now. Do you know what Maidenshop would be like if Dervil was allowed to reign unchecked? As it is, he stays away from us because he stays away from you.”
“You believe Dervil is afraid of me?” Mars returned with a half laugh. “I doubt it.”
“He knows you want to kill him.”
“Someday, I will find a way.”
“Then you need to keep your wits about you.”
“And what do I do until then?”
Ned thought of Clarissa’s complaint about Mars, about how he had no purpose in life, and realized she might be right. “You find something that gives your life meaning. That is what you do.”
“You are saying this to me?” Mars shook his head. “What of you, my friend?”
“Me?” Ned didn’t understand. “I have my medicine. I have my patients. My studies of science and mathematics. My plans for my lecture series. Those are the passions of my life, and it is a very full life.”
“Or merely a busy one to fill empty space. Don’t you find everything a trifle boring?”
“How could I?” Even as Ned answered, he experienced a niggling of doubt, one he pushed away. His life was not empty. “What we understand of the world is in constant change, especially over the past few decades of this modern age. There is so much to learn. I can barely wait for the Frost lecture. Which brings me to the reason I sought you out—”
Mars cut him off. “I am not ready to discuss why you dragged me back here. We are on a theme of particular importance. I may dance with the opium pipe from time to time, but I don’t lie to myself. Not like you are.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?”
“That your patients, your medicine, your lectures, well, they are your opium, aren’t they?” He spoke as if he was laying out something clever.
Ned sat back. “I think your skull is cracked. What a ridiculous thing to say.”
“No, what an honest one to say. Look at us, Thurlowe. Two old roués—”
“We are not old. And I’m not a roué. You may be one.”
“I forgot,” Mars said with great exaggeration. “You are the monk.”
“I’m not a monk.”
The earl raised a skeptical eyebrow. “When was the last time you dipped your sword?”
“Do you mean had sexual relations? I take back what I said. You are old. Dipped my sword? How quaint.”
“Answer the question.”
“I see. I’m being interrogated.”
“For your own good.” Mars pretended to dust off his hands. “Isn’t that why you sent Royce to hunt me now? For my own good?”
“I’ve dipped my sword.”
Mars took his feet off the stool and leaned forward. “When?”
“It is none of your affair.”
The earl considered that a moment and then repeated, “You aren’t a lothario, Thurlowe. I’m not accusing you of that. I’m the rake in the room. But you are a man with a man’s needs. So one week? Two weeks—?”
“Stop this.”
“Six weeks?” Mars paused, considering. “I’m absolutely certain you haven’t been with the saintly Miss Taylor.” He gave a shiver.
“I don’t know why you don’t like her,” Ned answered, pleased to have a change of topic.
“She’s boring.” He spoke as if there was no worse epithet. “She offers nothing.”
“I’m marrying her the day after the Frost lecture.”
“God. And I’m not using the Lord’s name in vain. I am praying for mercy on your ever-living soul. I thought you were wrong to offer for her. Now you will spend the rest of your life with the future matron to end all Matrons of Maidenshop? You poor fool.”
“I made a promise and I’ll honor it.” Ned sounded dogged to his own ears.
“She has appalling taste.”
“What?”
“Yes, she does. Have you ever looked at what she wears? Prissy, silly, girlish.”
Actually, Ned hadn’t really paid attention to what Clarissa wore. “You seem to notice her more than I do.” Then again, he could recall the stitching in Gemma’s nightdress. He gave his head a hard shake, wanting to dislodge the image.
“Are you all right?” Mars asked.
Ned wasn’t going to answer, not after the comments of him being a monk.
Mars gave a small yawn. “Enough small talk. What is going on in sweet Maidenshop that has made both you and the matrons come searching for me?”
“They tried to contact you?”
“Letters, missives, threats, entreaties. All of it. There was a stack of letters in my hall when I returned. I didn’t read any of them. Royce wanted me to leave right away. What has their skirts twisted now? I’m certain it is the Logical Men’s Society. What have we done?”
“What have we not done, especially with Winderton at the helm.”
“Winderton?”
“He’s learned some bad tricks during his time in London. He’s drinking too much and that is never a good look. And the reason the matrons were trying to reach you before I could is because a Mrs. Gemma Estep claims that Old Andy left The Garland to her. All the matrons support her claim. Mrs. Estep is planning on turning our tavern into a tea garden and there doesn’t seem to be a female breast for a hundred miles around who hasn’t discovered a sudden, ardent desire to drink tea—and displace the Logical Men’s Society.”
“The devil you say.”
“I do say. That is why I sent for the magistrate. You. Mrs. Estep refuses to show me the proof that Andy left the building to her. I need you to set her straight. The lads and I want The Garland back. We are counting on you, Mars. There is a good amount of foolishness going on because of this.” He thought it prudent not to mention Fitz’s head bashing. “You know how we can be around here.”