Henry chuckled. “If you don’t mind. I can come to the club, if you prefer.”
Kit bit his lip. He should not encourage this foolishness.
He opened his mouth to say something of that nature but somehow found himself instead saying, “All right. Seven o’clock?”
Henry’s smile was sweet. “I shall look forward to it all day.”
Kit would too, he realised, as he watched Henry depart. He would look forward to it far too much. It was terrifying how much he already wanted to see Henry again. Loving Henry had nearly destroyed him once—why was he even considering repeating that disaster?
Determinedly thrusting his unproductive thoughts aside, Kit got out of bed, wincing at the aches and pains that assailed him as he did so. Skelton had landed a good few punches and between those blows and falling to the floor, every bone felt bruised and aching.
For now, though, there were things to do, and the first of them was to speak to Clara. He needed to tell her about last night, and set her straight on a few things.
He washed up, gingerly tended his bruises with ointment, then dressed and went looking for Clara. He found her in the parlour downstairs with Peter, playing dominoes.
“I’m winning, Uncle Kit!” Peter announced excitedly when he entered. “Two games to one. But it’s best of five. Mama could still beat me!”
“Can I watch?” Kit asked, pulling up a chair.
“Yes, but you must be quiet,” Peter said, very seriously. He bent to study his tiles, and Kit met Clara’s gaze over his head.
She eyed his bruises, frowning, but said nothing. She proceeded to lose the game quickly though, then sent Peter to the kitchens, saying he might have a biscuit, if cook let him. He trotted off happily, and Clara closed the door behind him.
“What happened to you?”
He told her all of it, holding nothing back.
“Oh, Kit,” she muttered when he was finished. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in that position… but I’m very grateful, I hope you know that.”
“I know,” he said, patting her hand. “You and Peter should be safe now.”
“Your plan worked then.”
Kit’s mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “Well, I believe my bringing Bartlett’s behaviour to public attention was certainly of some use, as was Lord Frederick Avesbury’s intervention, but in all likelihood, it’s Jake Sharp’s participation that will prove to be the most persuasive. I suspect he practically owns Bartlett's soul now.”
Clara bit her lip. “I don’t deserve you, Kit. I was so stupid to approach him.”
“Not stupid,” Kit said firmly. “I understand why you did it, my dear.”
Clara dashed away her tears with the heel of her hand.
“You need not worry about Peter,” Kit continued gently. “You know I regard the two of you as family, my dear. And since I have no other, and find myself a rather well-to-do fellow, you may take it from me that I will provide for Peter.” He smiled. "But since I know you do worry, I have decided to put a sum of money aside for Peter now. That way, you have the certainty of knowing that it’s there and it cannot be lost in future. I will put it into trust for him, to be held safe until he is old enough to take care of it.”
Tears brimmed in Clara’s eyes. “Kit, you are too kind. We cannot—”
“Yes, you can,” Kit said, patting her hand. “I want to do this, my dear.”
She squeezed his hand back, swallowing back her tears with effort. “Th-thank you,” she managed at last in a tight, emotion-filled voice.
“And now,” Kit said. “While I am on the subject of Peter’s future, there is something else we must discuss.”
“And what is that?”
“It is time you moved to the country, my dear. The air here in town is terrible.”
Clara swallowed and nodded. “I know, but Kit, my work—”
“As I’ve said, I will make provision for you,” Kit replied gently.
“It’s too much,” Clara said, and her expression was distressed. “I could not impose on you so. And then, to go somewhere new again, somewhere we know no one.” She rubbed at her forehead wearily. “It would be a big change, for both of us. And for you, Kit. We would both miss you terribly.”
Kit smiled, touched. “And I would miss you too, but… I have had a hankering to move to the country for a while. It’s difficult with the club, of course, but if I purchased a property, you could live there with Peter, and I could visit from time to time.” He smiled fondly. “Your beloved brother. And if you wanted to look for teaching work, you could do so.”
Her eyes brightened a little at that, and he saw her begin to consider his words.
Well, he had sown a seed at least. It would do for today.
“Just think on it for now,” he said, and Clara nodded.
Peter came back then, with a large, half-eaten biscuit in hand.
“What happened to your eye, Uncle Kit?” he demanded, noticing Kit’s bruises for the first time. He approached and set his sturdy little fingers gently on Kit’s face, tracing the bruise beneath his eye. “It’s red and purple and blue. Is it sore?”
“A bit,” Kit said, smiling.
“How did it happen? Did you get in a fight?”
“Yes,” Kit said simply, at the exact same moment that Clara said, “Of course not!”
They looked at one another and laughed.
“Sort of,” Kit said, by way of compromise, then swiftly changed the subject. “Do you want to play me at dominoes? I warn you, I’m much better than your mama…”
Needless to say, Peter did want to play.
They had just finished their fourth game when Tom swept in.
“You’ll never guess who it is, Kit,” he said. “Only bleedin’ Jake Sharp!”
Kit wasn’t sure if he should be surprised to see Sharp so soon after the previous evening’s events. And he certainly wasn’t sure what mood the man would be in. On any view, last night had not gone precisely as planned. Sharp had agreed to Kit confronting Bartlett in his club—not to a full-scale brawl.
However, when Sharp was shown into the parlour, after Clara and Peter had left, he seemed perfectly relaxed, greeting Kit pleasantly and declining his offer of tea.
He watched Tom leave the room with undisguised interest.
“Ogling my footman?” Kit said, amused.
“I remember him,” Sharp said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “That arse is unforgettable. He was selling it up at your club, wasn’t he? What’s he doing here?”
“He wanted a change of direction,” Kit replied.
“That so?” Sharp nodded. “Still, I’m a bit surprised at you keeping a footman. And with all the fancy livery too. Don’t seem like you, Kitten.”
“It’s a temporary arrangement,” Kit said. “Tom is… gaining experience with me before he looks for a permanent position.”
Sharp raised his brows. “If he’s looking for a position, there might be one directly under me”—he cleared his throat—“so to speak.”
“That’s precisely what he doesn’t want to do anymore,” Kit said drily.