“Why the cavalry?”
“No, muttonhead. Why did your brother consider you a lesser member? Did you offend him?”
He nodded. “I offended him very much.”
“If I may pry, how did you earn his disapproval?”
He gazed at his open hands. “I killed my mother.”
She could only stare, speechless, as a hundred scenarios competed for ascendency in her imagination, each one more horrifying than the last. “Your…your mother?”
He glanced up with eyes devoid of life. “She died giving birth to me, the first instance of my vile destiny.”
“But you were an infant. Surely you don’t blame yourself?”
“Perhaps I wouldn’t, if not for everything else.”
“Everything else?”
He returned to the study of his hands, as if examining blood stains. “On my first hunting outing with Father, I recklessly shot and killed my favorite dog, Percy. Then, when a suitor visited Charlotte in Father’s absence, I threw myself at him like a savage animal and beat him until his nose was broken and my fists were bloody. I was only eleven.” He hesitated. “But that was not the worst of it.”
She closed her eyes, trying to remain silent, but failed. “What happened?”
“My father fell dead of apoplexy while in the process of berating me for stealing food to impress the daughter of a footman.” He stopped and whispered inaudible words, swaying slightly as his eyes grew vacant. “And James was always sure to remind me why I did these things. That mine was a lost soul because of my ancestry.”
“What ancestry?” Though she should not pry, Lucy’s curiosity could not be contained.
“My mother was the daughter of an arch rogue.”
Lucy blinked with surprise. “Your…your grandfather was a criminal?”
He heaved a deep sigh. “Yes. He ran a highly successful smuggling ring out of Dumfries in Scotland. He was a cutthroat, a scoundrel, and a villain of the first order.”
She blinked again at the shocking news. “How…how did your father come to…”
When she left the question hanging, Henry nodded. “My father dabbled in the import of illegal whiskey to burnish estate profits, and my grandfather was his, ah, contact in the enterprise. The first time he laid eyes on my mother, he fell heels over head in love with her, the lonely widower that he was.”
“She must have been a rare beauty, then.”
“Yes, from what I’ve heard.” He paused in seeming recollection. “They married after a torrid courtship. The ton eventually forgave my father that indiscretion due to his station, but my brother never did. He saw in me the seed of a criminal, come to taint the family with inevitable criminal behavior. Thus, it is my lot in life to set a solo course and strive to avoid my inevitable descent toward my grandfather’s corrupt nature.”
The confession left Lucy stunned. However, she at least understood the stigma of a criminal connection and the desire to rise above it. She also understood the life of one who walked alone in search of a better path. She mumbled, “I shall find a way or make one.”
He regathered his focus and glanced at her in surprise. “You know Seneca well enough to quote him?”
“I know most of the major Roman philosophers and a few minor ones.”
He shook his head again while watching her. An unlikely soft smile formed. “You are an odd one, Lucy Locket. Odd indeed.”
“You are not the first to offer that assessment. Only the most recent. Thank you for joining that very long list of those who discredit me.”
“I meant not to discredit you, but rather to comment on your unique quality.”
She squinted at him in disbelief. “Then you approve of my oddness?”
“I did not say that, either. I am still debating.”
“Good, then. It comforts me to know I am not alone in withholding a verdict.”
His spirit seemed to return as he cocked his head. “Your verdict of me?”
“Yes.”
“What is there not to like? I am quite the fellow.”
“Well, for one,” she said, “I question your humility. But I do agree that you are quite the something.”
“Quite the what?”
“I cannot say aloud. Steadman forbade me from cursing.”
He chuckled. “That bad, am I? Then perhaps my brother was right to disown me.”
She shook her head and gazed upon his features, so handsome when he smiled. “No. He was not right to do that.”
His eyes flashed with surprise and then perhaps gratitude. He stared ahead at the path, unspeaking. They walked in silence for a time, drawing nearer to the patch of trees. Lucy soon spied a covey of stone houses with sod roofs huddling in the embrace of the two hills.
“Who lives there?” she asked.
“Tenants of Ardmoore. Shepherds and farmers, mostly.”
“Are you taking me there to learn the proper manner in which to address tenants?”
“If you like.”
As they neared the settlement, she wrestled with a question weighing heavily on her mind until she could no longer contain it. “What will you do next, Mr. Beaumont? After we have failed utterly in this enterprise and the duchess releases you from your impossible contract?”
His eyes grew distant. “Bring lawbreakers to justice, and as many as I can. First with Bow Street and then perhaps as a barrister. The pursuit of criminals may prevent me from association with them. Or so I hope.”
The mention of association with criminals stabbed Lucy unexpectedly. Only then did she realize how her connection with Steadman conflicted with his desperate campaign to rise above his perceived corruption. She forced a growing frown from her face, hoping to hide encroaching dismay.
“And if your plan fails?” she asked. “What then?”
He grinned sadly. “If all else fails, my mother’s brother owns a smithy near Edinburgh. Perhaps I might work for him. He seems a decent man despite our shared heritage.”
She smiled, thinking him joking. However, his features remained unmoving. Her ache for his situation grew. She slowly gathered the courage to revisit his plan. “Perhaps you could find a delicate and pure lady of Society who might aid in your quest for betterment.”
His smile returned. “No. That would not be possible due to my fatal flaw.”
“And what is your fatal flaw?”
“It seems I am drawn to audacious women. The attraction lands me in all manner of trouble, present situation included.”