Neil spent a bad night of it, tossing and turning in his bed as he ran his mind over the events of the day. Several moments haunted him: The feeling of triumph as he peered through the crack in the door. Laura bursting into tears. Richard throwing the whiskey glass into the fireplace.
It was the last that really frightened him. Neil had never before seen Richard lose his temper. Not like that. The occasional sharp word quickly cooling down to contemptuous distaste, well that Richard all over. But violence — violence was an anathema to Richard. Which meant that Neil had crossed a line he didn't know existed until now.
What hurt most of all was the realization that Richard was right: Neil had behaved disgracefully when he'd eavesdropped on Laura. It had not been decent to sit and listen while another man attempted to kiss her, asked her to run away with him. Neil realized that he'd half-hoped for Laura to betray some proof that she was unsuitable to be Richard's wife.
And all she'd done was tell Percival never to come near her again.
Neil turned over in bed with a groan. Weighted by time and guilt, one thing seemed all too obvious: Laura loved Richard. Was in love with him. Neil remembered now her clumsy flirtations with Richard last year, the time he'd found her weeping over Richard while he slept, her gentleness towards him. Her affection had deep roots. Months, perhaps even years — Neil couldn't tell with Laura.
And if she loved him, her child was undoubtedly his. No matter if it had been a miracle or merely a mistake, it must be Richard's.
Guilt kept Neil awake until morning, when he came down to breakfast to discover he was dining alone. Afterwards, before he could see Richard, he had an appointment in Harley Street. When he returned from that, the first thing he wanted to do was apologise to Richard and Laura, but the footman said that they were both in Laura's bedroom. He hesitated on the landing before her door and, on hearing a distinctly giggly squeal from within, decided it would be prudent not to interrupt them. Instead, he went to his own room to compose a letter to his wife, starting with some news about the doctors and surgeons he'd talked with, and then arriving with some confusion at the unexpected proof of Richard's being able to have children after all. He would have preferred to tell her in person, but by the time he arrived home she might already have heard it from someone else; he knew her cousins the Duvalles would be returning from London soon, and they surely would bring with them any gossip about Richard's wife.
As he was signing the letter, there was a knock at the door. Neil turned as Richard entered, his suit and hair distinctly mussed.
"I wanted to ask you," Neil said, "your doctor, what's his name?"
"Cavendish," Richard said shortly. "He's not a surgeon."
"No, but he knows what it's like for you, doesn't he? He might be able to help with Podge."
Richard stared at him a moment then took his card case out of his pocket and leaned over the desk to scribble on the back of a card.
"He'll see you this evening, at that address, if you give him this," he said, pushing the card towards Neil. "Now, Neil, we need to talk."
Neil winced at Richard's tone; this was going to be harder than he thought. "Rich, first I have to say I'm sorry. Last night I— I was very mistaken. Wrong."
Richard looked impassively at him. Neil felt like he hadn't said enough.
"I'm really, really sorry," he added helplessly.
Richard gave a heavy sigh and sat down on the bed, his stick in front of him. Then, to Neil's surprise, he gave a bitter laugh.
"I was happy until I entered this room," Richard said. "You — my brother — are the one thing to cast a shadow over..." He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his face. "...over the best thing that has ever happened to me. Bar perhaps marrying Laura. I can't quite tell which is better."
Neil took in a long, uncertain breath and then slowly released it. He'd felt the same way — not so much, to his regret, with his daughter Annie, but very much so with his son Roger, when he'd first found out that Verity was expecting.
"The day the baby is born," Neil said, "that will be the best thing that ever happens to you. You'll know then."
Richard gave a rueful smile. "Maybe."
"Definitely." Neil hesitated then reached out and shook Richard's shoulder. "I promise."
Richard leaned towards him a moment, then drew abruptly back. "Neil. It is mine. I need you to understand that — to believe it. I can't have you... suspecting Laura of things that... suspecting my future child of..."
"I know," Neil said, when it seemed that Richard was unable to continue. "For God's sake Richard, I know. I told you: I was wrong. About Laura. About everything."
Richard didn't look convinced; instead his expression became doubtful and then grim. "What changed your mind about her since last night?"
"Richard, last night I was shocked and surprised. I said things that in a calmer state of mind I never would."
"You accused my wife of adultery. Once by inference to her face and the second time quite openly to me. And you were quite calm, really. You didn't seem very shocked at all. You seemed quite in control of yourself, quite deliberate, really, when you told me things that I wish I'd never heard — not especially from my own brother."
Neil was silent. By the tight, glittering appearance of Richard's eyes, he could see that Richard was holding back fury.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. Everything I said was wrong. I don't know what else to say."
"It's not just that." Richard stood and paced the room. "I can't believe you stood by eavesdropping on her while a man attempted to make love to her — a brother would have sent that man away. I thought I could trust you."
"You can."
"If you can't trust her, how can I trust you? I can't. And she — she's delicate, right now. I don't want her to be hurt—"
"—I'd never hurt her."
"You already have!" Richard stopped pacing and pointed his stick at Neil. "What do you think it was, last night? What do you think it's been the past few weeks? Your manner to her is obnoxious, cold, dismissive. I didn't want to interfere, I was hoping you'd warm up to her with time, but I noticed."
"Neither of us have the gift of pretending we feel what we don't," Neil said, exasperated. "But I have been respectful to her, I think."
"What you said about her last night was not respectful. What you did to her yesterday was beyond the pale. I'm offended, Neil. I'm angry. She's my wife and I love her and you..." Richard trailed off. "If I said such things about Verity, how would you feel?"
Neil looked away. "You wouldn't say such things."
Richard shook his head. "Never."
There was silence in the room for a moment. Neil felt guiltier than ever. There didn't seem to be anything he could say that would make it right. The damage was already done, and only time — hopefully not too much — would heal it.
"How's it going with the doctors and Podge?" Richard asked quietly. "Have you made any progress?"
Neil blinked at the change of subject. "I think I've done what I can here. I've got several surgeons coming down to my place in July. They'll need to examine him before any further decisions can be made."
"Then if I ask you to leave, I won't be doing any harm to him?"
"To leave? You're turning me out?"
"No. You're free to stay if you need. But I— I think it would be best for everybody if you didn't prolong your visit, shall we say?"
Neil opened his mouth to protest then shut it again. He could see there wasn't any point arguing; Richard had fallen back into his very familiar, contemptuous, cold anger. There was nothing to do with that but wait until he'd thawed again.
"Tomorrow," Neil said shortly. "I can leave then. And I'm sorry. I really am."
Richard looked at him, breathing hard, as though he'd expected a fight. "Right then," he said, and turned and left.
Neil watched him go, then picked up his letter and tossed it in the fireplace.
* * *
Having to leave the next day meant that Neil couldn't waste any time before visiting Cavendish. He went immediately to the doctor's own house, not many streets away. Cavendish was busy, however, and Neil had to wait some time before he could see him. Nor was it an easy task to persuade him to take the trip up to Cumbria; only when he pointed out that Cavendish would be required to treat any future sons of Richard's for the same impediment and would be advantaged by the experience of treating Podge did Cavendish at last agree.
When Neil returned home, he found Laura and Richard had gone out for the evening. That spoilt his plans. He'd intended to speak to Laura in private and apologise to her for his behaviour. And probably he thought, he ought congratulate her too.
That he was leaving the next day was a settled matter: he had finished what he came to London to do, and it was clear that he'd made Richard angry enough that he'd only provoke him more by lingering, but he still wished he wasn't leaving on such a note. It was dawning on him that he'd behaved very badly indeed, not just the past few weeks, but ever since he'd heard that Richard had married Laura. It made him uncomfortable to realize that he'd done to Richard exactly what his father had done to himself: refused to accept his choice in a matter of heart.
He had been jealous — not of Richard, but of Laura. He had been jealous that she had such a call upon Richard now, was so great a part of his life. Childish, silly, poisonous jealousy.
It was a miserable last evening for Neil, all alone in the empty house. He was lingering morosely over his port at the dining table, wondering when Richard and Laura would be back, when the doorbell rang and he heard a vaguely familiar voice talking to the butler:
"No, no I can wait for her. If you'll just let me up, I'll wait as long as need be."
Neil recognized the voice and went out to the hall to see a man hovering on the steps, his hat in his hands.
"Mr... Percival, wasn't it?" Neil said.
The man jumped, his long, pale hands working on the brim of his hat. "Er. Yes?"
"Come in here."
The butler melted away and Percival came inside. Neil shut the dining room door.
"Who are you?" Percival asked.
"Richard's brother." Neil leaned against the table and looked the man up and down. He was handsome, Neil supposed, in a wilting sort of way, but there was something off-putting about his nervous manner. "Why are you calling upon Lady Albroke?"
"I — I was a friend of Lady Albroke's when she was married to Maidstone."
"You had an affair with her."
The man blushed pink like a girl.
"Why are you here?" Neil repeated. "No lies. Why do you wish to see her now? You were supposed to be going to Australia — why didn't you get on that ship?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't mean to— I mean..." He glanced away. "I've heard the strangest rumours about her, they're all over London. They say she fainted at Lady Roynor's ball last night, and I wanted to know if she was ill — I thought it might explain why..." He trailed off. "Then someone said it's because she's going to have a baby. And I have to know — is it true?"
Neil narrowed his eyes. "It's true."
Percival sagged into a chair. "No wonder she wouldn't—" he broke off and glanced guiltily at Neil, who guessed what he had been going to say.
"She wouldn't go with you because she doesn't want you," Neil said sharply. "Are you going to stay around here, bothering her? She was abundantly clear about never wanting to see you again."
"No," Percival said, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know. I just wanted to know if it was true."
He stayed there, motionless and silent, his head in his hands. Neil watched him and wondered what was the best thing to do. That Percival was besotted with Laura was obvious. Even her harsh words yesterday didn't seem to have changed that. A besotted man might do a great deal of hurt. He might bother her in public, or reveal their old affair, or lead to some disgrace for her. Perhaps rumour would even credit him with being the father of Laura's baby, if he made himself too much a nuisance.
"Lady Albroke has nothing to do with you now," Neil said. "You shouldn't be here. She turned you away."
"But I wanted to see her — I just had to know for sure if there was going to be a baby. It changes everything."
"How?" Neil demanded. "How does it change anything?"
Percival's hands parted to reveal eyes full of sorrow. "It makes it different. If she's having a baby, of course she couldn't go with me. She'd have to stay."
"No. It doesn't. She's another man's wife either way, and she wants nothing to do with you. She was clear about that." Neil looked down upon him contemptuously and wondered how someone as proud and unsympathetic as Laura had ever deigned to accept Percival's fawning attentions. "Why didn't you get on that boat? It sailed yesterday, didn't it? I heard you tell her so."
Percival shrugged. "I don't have the money."
"Then you'd take another man's wife, a woman you allegedly love, to a foreign country on a six month journey without any money?" Neil stared incredulously at him.
Percival shrank back. "It would have worked out — if we could get to my cousin's place. If she loved me."
"She doesn't." Neil stood over Percival. "Has the ship sailed?"
Percival nodded silently.
"Is there another one?"
"Not that I can get on. I don't have the money for passage."
"You've got debts, don't you?"
Percival gave a listless shrug.
Neil took out his wallet from his pocket. He pulled several notes out. Percival watched him, frowning.
"Here," Neil said, dropping the notes on the table in front of Percival. "This is two hundred pounds."
Percival reached out his hand to take them but Neil placed his hand on top of them.
"Now, wait a minute. I'm giving this to you on one condition — you get on a ship today. I don't care where it goes, but it leaves England. And you never come back. You never write to Laura. You never try to see her. You never talk of her or your affair to anyone. You never even think about her ever again."
Percival stared at him.
"Promise me," Neil said. "From now on, as far as you're concerned, she doesn't exist."
"I promise," Percival said, taking the money and standing up. "I'll be gone by tonight."
"You'd better be." Neil added callously, "if you're not, I'll tell your debtors where you are, and that you've got money on you."
He looked suddenly panic-stricken, making Neil think he had meant to lie, take the money, and linger in London in hopes of seeing Laura again. But he slouched away to the door, casting only one glance back. Neil watched him leave, thoughtful. He wasn't sure that either Richard or Laura would be pleased with what he had done. They might think it interfering. But they never had to know. Laura would think her words had warned Percival off, and Richard would never think to imagine what had taken place.
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A/N: And so at last, and too late, Neil tries to do the right thing.