Free The Hidden Blade by Sherry Thomas Page B

natural son: It had been the apprehension of a good man who had the charge of another man’s child. He must have worried about doing everything right by Marland, and perhaps he had been especially concerned that Marland should never feel he was treated differently from Leighton.
    “Yes, they buried Father.”
    “Will he be lonely?”
    Leighton crouched down so he was at eye level with Marland. “We can visit him often, to keep him company.”
    Tears rolled down Marland’s face. “Can we visit him now?”
    The door of the nursery opened and in the doorway stood Sir Curtis. Marland stared at him. “Who are you?”
    Sir Curtis did not answer. He looked from Marland to Leighton and back again, something like a pleased smile on his face. Without a word, he closed the door and left.
    “Who was that?” Marland asked Leighton.
    “Sir Curtis,” said Leighton.
    The answer was good enough for Marland. “Can we go visit Father?”
    The satisfaction Sir Curtis had derived from seeing Marland, however, chilled Leighton. He caressed Marland’s hair, so blond that it was almost white. “We can, but not now.”

    Leighton slipped into the library from the secret entrance up in the gallery and listened to the reading of Father’s will, which the solicitor finished in only a few minutes.
    Father had left handsome gifts to the seniormost servants. To Mother and Marland he gave a substantial settlement each. Starling Manor would come to Leighton when he reached majority, along with tracts of land in London, Manchester, and Birmingham. To Leighton himself he left the jade tablet. To Herb, his collection of stamps.
    To Sir Curtis, absolutely nothing, which gave Leighton a savage pleasure.
    Father also named Mother and Mr. Henry Knightly, Mother’s cousin, as Leighton and Herb’s guardians. Again, a deliberate repudiation of Sir Curtis. Leighton was almost giddy—until he remembered Sir Curtis’s smugness, looking into the nursery.
    But what could Sir Curtis do? He did not hold their purse strings and he had not been appointed guardian.
    Sir Curtis, however, did not seem the least bit upset by the reading of the will. After the servants and the solicitor had vacated the library, he strolled to the ivory-inlay console table where Father’s decanter was kept and tapped a finger on the crystal topper.
    “Any fortification for you, Mrs. Atwood? And you, Mr. Gordon?”
    They both shook their heads, Mother uncomfortable but stoic, Herb stone-faced but unafraid. Like Leighton, they had been bolstered by the contents of Father’s will.
    “Well, then, we will start with you, Mrs. Atwood—ladies first.” Sir Curtis gave a thin-lipped smile. “You are an utterly useless woman.”
    Mother flinched. Leighton gritted his teeth.
    “Get out,” said Herb. “You will not insult a lady in her own home. And there is nothing more for you to do here.”
    “So speaks the man who might as well have pulled the trigger on my brother,” said Sir Curtis coldly.
    Herb swallowed.
    Sir Curtis turned back to Mother. “It is the role of the wife to uphold the vows of marriage and the sanctity of the family. But you, Mrs. Atwood, you had no strength and no conviction. You chose to seek your own pleasures and left your husband vulnerable to temptation. A better woman would have guarded him and kept him safe for as long as she and he both lived. But you, full of weakness and selfishness, abandoned your duties long ago.”
    Each of his words seemed to strike a blow upon Mother, who shrank and shrank.
    Leighton saw now that he had been blind, that Father’s death had left Mother badly shaken. Had she been blaming herself the way he blamed himself? Had she been wondering whether things would have been different if only she hadn’t been so far away from home when Sir Curtis unexpectedly arrived?
    “Do you actually think I will let an unrepentant adulteress be guardian to my nephew? Don’t act so surprised. When he died did you think I did not notice you