Chapter 28

Afortnight had passed. An entire two weeks since the moment his world finally made sense, only to be upended again by his own hands. He had searched the newspapers and scandal sheets every morning with religious diligence, waiting to read of his heartbreak in plain black and white. And every morning, there was nothing. Other people's woes and triumphs, other people's engagements and scandals, other people's births and deaths and marriages, but no mention of him or Leah anywhere.

"Are we seeing Leah today?" Colin swung into the breakfast room with Robin perched upon his head. "She must have returned from her grandmother's by now."

Nathaniel flinched, guilt no doubt etched across his face. "Not today, Colin."

"Will she be at the ball tomorrow night?" Colin sat down in the chair opposite, taking a slice of toast. He broke off crumbs for the sparrow, the bird trilling happily.

"I am not going to the ball tomorrow."

Colin paused. "But you promised!"

"When did I promise?"

"When I told you about Lord Shilbottle's gardens. He has exotic greenhouses, filled with flowers from all over the world!" Colin furrowed his brow, clearly furious. "You laughed, and you said, "Very well, we shall go, for if that is the one thing that entices you to enter into society gatherings, I cannot deny you". Please, Nathan. Just for an hour or two."

Nathaniel closed the scandal sheets he had been reading, tucking them inside a newspaper. "If I promised, then… of course, we will go."

"She is not at her grandmother's, is she," Colin said. It was not a question, just a quiet, sad realization. "You have broken your courtship with Leah."

Nathaniel wished he had a satisfactory answer for his brother, but until something appeared in the society rumor mill, he could not. "We are taking some time for ourselves. She had doubts, so I am allowing her the solitude she requested." He felt even worse for perpetuating the lie.

"I really liked her," Colin murmured, feeding Robin another crumb. Even the sparrow looked sad. "Why did she have doubts? Did you upset her?"

Nathaniel sighed. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"Can you not fix it? We could secretly pick her some flowers from Lord Shilbottle's greenhouses! She could not possibly refuse you if you gave her some rare blooms!" Colin's eyes brightened, and Nathaniel's heart broke a little more. "Do you think that might work?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "I admire your understanding of what might please ladies—indeed, it gives me hope that you might soon find a lady of your own—but I do not think flowers will be enough."

"Oh…"

"I am sorry, Colin," Nathaniel said. "But if you could refrain from saying anything to Mother, I would be grateful. Nothing has been decided yet, and I do not want to upset her, too, until I have to."

Colin squinted at his brother. "This is not because of Father, is it?"

"Why would you say that?" Colin's candor startled him. After all, he had still been a child when their father died, and their father had barely interacted with the boy. As far as Nathaniel knew, Colin was not aware of any of their father's misdeeds and cruelty.

Colin shrugged. "I know you have always been afraid of becoming like him, and though you and Mother both whisper about the past whenever it comes up, I have the hearing of a bat. He has never sounded like a nice man, and I know he was not nice at all to you and Mother." He smiled sadly. "I think he hated me."

"He did not hate you," Nathaniel replied, but it fell flat.

"He did."

Nathaniel decided to be honest, bracing himself. "Father was not well in his mind when you were born. He thought you belonged to another man which, of course, you do not." He paused. "But if he had been well, he would have cherished you."

"The same way he cherished you?" Colin raised a knowing eyebrow. "He was crueler toward you than anyone else, was he not?"

It was Nathaniel's turn to shrug. "He did not know how to be a father or a husband. Indeed, I think he was unwell in his mind long before I was born and long before Mother married him."

"And you fear you have the same disease of the mind that might appear at any moment?" Colin was wiser than his years, Nathaniel realized. Everyone dismissed him as a harmless, sweet sort of fool with his love of plants and animals, carrying around a sparrow like a baby, but Colin was far sharper than anyone gave him credit for.

Nathaniel managed a smile. "Not anymore."

"Then, why break the courtship? In what way did you upset Leah?" Colin seemed frustrated, like he had discovered a new species only to find out that it had already been discovered.

"It was something I had to do," Nathaniel replied. "And as I said, nothing has been decided, so do not mention it to anyone."

Colin took a bite of toast, chewing thoughtfully. "I will get to the bottom of this, one way or another. When I do, I shall make it my mission to push the two of you back together again." He swallowed. "She was good for you, and she was my friend. I am not losing a friend because you have… made a foolish mistake."

"Will Robin be joining us at the ball?" Nathaniel needed to change the conversation. Talking of Leah just hurt.

Colin rolled his eyes. "I have his tailcoat ready. But I mean it—if you will not fix this, I shall." He got up, heading for the French doors that led into the garden. On the threshold, he turned. "Oh, that is what I meant to say. There is someone waiting for you outside. He has been walking back and forth for half an hour, and I do not know him, and mother is not here, so I am guessing he is here to see you."

"What does he look like?" Nathaniel's stomach clenched, braced for a description of Jonathan. After all, there had been nothing in the scandal sheets about Nathaniel's father either, which meant Jonathan was either biding his time or waiting for Leah to do the dirty work for him, considering the nature of their last conversation.

Colin frowned. "Old. Thin. Scruffy. I am surprised no one has summoned the constables yet; he does not look like he should be in Mayfair, if you understand my meaning."

Is it Bill? Astonishment lifted Nathaniel out of his chair, driving him toward the front door of the townhouse. He had missed his old friend, but as he had not returned to the warehouses to box, intending to go back for one last fight when the news hit of his secret identity, so he could validate it, he had not known when he might see Bill again.

Opening the door, Nathaniel peered up and down the street beyond, spotting the scrawny, grizzled man on the pavement opposite, leaning against a lamppost as he smoked his pipe.

Nathaniel put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply. Bill's head whipped around, a brown-toothed smile spreading across his face. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching too closely, Nathaniel headed over to join his friend but walked straight past him, entering the private garden behind them. It was surrounded by a black, wrought iron fence and defended by a locked gate that only residents had the key to.

Bill followed without question. "Ashamed to be seen with me, eh?" he teased.

"Afraid you might be carted away by constables," Nathaniel corrected, leading Bill toward a sheltered bench, tucked behind tall trees and bushes. They would not be disturbed there.

Bill sat down with a groan. "That's nice on me weary legs, I'll tell you."

"Have you decided to abandon that shack by the water? Were you perusing for property? I have always thought you would make an excellent lord," Nathaniel teased. "It is good to see you, Bill."

Bill chuckled. "Half these lords are worse than the owners of the gamblin' halls. I probably know most of ‘em which is why they've not sent for them whistleblowers to come and nab me." He paused. "It's good to see you too. Glad you haven't come back to the warehouses, o' course, but nice to see you anyway."

"So, you were just passing by to ensure I was well?"

Bill pulled a face. "Aye and nay. I had me a visit from a couple of determined lasses the other day, askin' all manner of questions about you. Now, I didn't say aught that'll get you in bother, but I thought you should know they'd come to find me." He hesitated. "They were sayin' they'd been told you were "the Highwayman," but they wanted to know more. Wanted to know what your character was like."

Grimacing, Nathaniel took a breath and explained everything that had happened that night on the balcony, and all of things he had told Leah about himself. All of his secrets laid bare. "Did the ladies give their names?"

"Phoebe and Matilda," Bill replied.

Nathaniel nodded. "They are Leah's dear friends."

"Well, I don't think they believe the story you gave her," Bill said, but he did not seem angry. Instead, he seemed amused. "That Phoebe lass kept askin' if you were protective by nature. Asked if you'd mentioned Leah to me. That's the only part I answered honestly."

"Bill!" Nathaniel stared at him, aghast. "I did this to keep her safe, to keep my mother and brother safe! And, as far as I know, I have not said anything about Leah to you. There is nothing you could have said." But in the back of his mind, he wondered if that was why he had not seen any articles about the broken courtship. Perhaps, Bill had inadvertently given Leah some hope by way of her friends.

Blast you, Bill! It was hard enough as it was, but if Nathaniel had to repeat that awful experience of pushing Leah away, it would become impossible to bear.

"You didn't need to say aught. I might've lost half me hearin', but I'm not blind, and I ain't stupid, neither," Bill replied, clearly pleased with himself. "As for that Jonathan fella, all you have to do is say the word, and me and the boys will see to it that he don't say a word about nothin'."

Nathaniel held his head in his hands. "I do not want Jonathan dead, Bill."

"Who said anythin' about dead?" Bill tutted. "What d'you take me for? We'll just gently persuade him to keep his mouth shut. A weddin' gift to you if you like. All you have to do is talk to the girl and bloody well marry her, so I can finally have meself a peaceful night's sleep not worryin' about you anymore."

Nathaniel cast his friend a sideways glance. "How gently would you persuade him?"

"Very gently." Bill grinned. "As for gettin' you to make things right with Leah—how much more of a nudge is it goin' to take? Truth be told, I was disappointed when them lasses told me what you'd done, pushin' her away like that. Never known you to back down from a fight."

It was, perhaps, everything Nathaniel needed to hear and everything he did not want to. Since he was eleven years old, Bill had been his protector, stepping up to a role no one else would take. Of course, Bill had not been able to stop Nathaniel from entering the boxing ring at his father's command, but it was Bill who had washed away the dirt and blood in those early years. It was Bill who had bandaged him up, Bill who had applied salve to bruises and cuts, Bill who had ensured he got home safely when his father decided to drink and make merry in London, almost forgetting he had a son at all. And on many occasions when Nathaniel was younger, it was Bill who had climbed into the ring and carried him out while Nathaniel's father had been content to continue giving the crowd the bait dog they wanted.

Bill had been the constant in Nathaniel's life. Even when Nathaniel was older, Bill had made it his mission to try and steer him away from the boxing altogether though he had never pushed or made demands; he had always wrapped it up in a jest. Now, Nathaniel began to realize it had never been a jest—all Bill had really wanted was to see Nathaniel free and happy, away from the unpleasantness of the boxing matches and the seedy characters therein. At the same time, Bill had understood why Nathaniel needed it… until he did not anymore.

Nathaniel had been the son Bill never had while Bill had been the father Nathaniel never had.

"I have been fighting since I was eleven for nothing at all, and now that I have something to fight for, something I truly desire, I… cannot do it," Nathaniel whispered, his voice breaking. "I told her I was not worthy of her, and though I said it for her sake, to protect her, I am beginning to think there was a morsel of truth in it. I am… scared, Bill."

Bill put his liver-spotted hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "Of what?"

"Of everything that comes after," Nathaniel said. "Of having everything my heart could ever want. What if it is taken away? What if I am no good at it? What if there are children? What if… I am a terrible father? What if I cannot make her happy?"

Bill smiled. "Take it from an old codger, you'll do all right. You'll have your moments when you stumble, and it's hard, and you don't know if you can get back up, but you'll get back up anyway, and the good times will come again." He drew in a rattling breath. "But you've helped raise that brother of yours, and he seems well enough—a little strange, but aren't we all?"

"I suppose we are." Nathaniel watched a little black beetle weave through the gravel beside his feet.

"As for you makin' Leah happy—her friends must think you're capable, else they wouldn't have come all the way to me to see what was amiss with you pushin' her away," Bill said. "They'd have gathered together, drinkin' brandy they'd nicked from their pas, cursin' your name instead."

Nathaniel raised his head, blinking. "That is peculiar, is it not?"

"Nay, it's not peculiar, it's your last chance, right there for the takin'. The fact Leah hasn't said a word about you in them scandal sheet things yet says a lot, too," Bill urged. "So, don't be a coward. Your pa was one, but you ain't. Make it right. You said you've finally got somethin' to fight for, so stop chatterin' about it, and do it. Oh, and I ought to tell you, you're no longer welcome at the warehouses."

Nathaniel frowned. "Whyever not?"

"‘Cause "the Highwayman" has retired, and I'm makin' sure it stays that way," Bill replied with a crooked grin. "But I might visit you from time to time and give you a kick up the arse when you're feelin' sorry for yourself again. That is, if I'm welcome?"

With hope flaring in his broken heart, Nathaniel swept his old friend into a tight hug, squeezing him until he felt Bill hug him back. They stayed like that for a minute or two, unable to say a thousand things to one another, yet saying it all in that one embrace. Almost two decades of gratitude and respect, concluding in that one moment.

"You are always welcome," Nathaniel whispered, his throat constricted with tears he would not dare to spill in front of his old friend. "I mean it."

Bill patted Nathaniel's back. "And what of that Jonathan fella? Any decisions?"

"Thank you, but no," Nathaniel said, realizing the magnitude of what lay ahead. "If I can persuade her to forgive me, to love me, then I shall contend with him myself. If not, it will not matter."

Bill pulled back. "I'll be cheerin' for you, either way."

"Thank you," Nathaniel murmured. "Always, thank you."

Bill smiled. "Don't thank me yet. The match ain't over."

"I know." Nathaniel took a breath, wondering where on Earth to begin, for pushing someone away was far easier than praying someone would come back.