Chapter Fifteen

H is father had had an affair with the wife of his close friend. His father—a womanizer. Hart couldn’t seem to reconcile these things with the man he’d known. The man who cautioned his sons to take care with their liaisons. To not bring scandal to the family name. Although his father had been stern and distant, Hart had always looked up to him… from afar. The man had seemed larger than life, good at everything he did—excellent horseman, hunter, even gambler. Robert had always groused that Hart had inherited his father’s immense luck and skill with cards.

His walking stick hit against a small branch that lay across the pavement. Hart stepped over it as he continued down Harris Street. A light breeze raced against his skin, cooling him from the warmth of the day. From his right, came the loud, cheerful voices of children and he realized he had made it to Green Park. He changed direction and strolled through the gate, entering onto a shady path.

Of course, his father was only a man, but Hart had spent his whole life idolizing him and older brother. Never measuring up to them in his mind. He’d always been the loose cannon, just the spare. Seeing the cracks in his father’s life made him reconsider how he felt about his own. Perhaps, he wasn’t doing so badly filling the role of Duke of Hartwick. Spotting a wood bench, Hart sat down with a long sigh. He desperately wished he could speak to his brother. Had Robert known?

Damned if he wouldn’t give all he had to sit here next to Robert and tell him the salacious news and commiserate in their shared shock. His brother would have been the one person who could have understood the thoughts swirling in Hart’s mind. Robert had known him like no one else. Like only your sibling could. He could admit it had been lonely, he hadn’t let anyone else become that close since Robert died. Except maybe Grisham. And after the attack, his sadness had been suffocating. It hadn’t seemed fair to suck anyone into his own personal hell. Grisham had just married and started a new business; he needed to look forward and not worry about Hart.

A few leaves swirled in a small whirling dervish at his feet. Hart watched as a pair of tall black Hessians entered his line of view. He glanced up to find a man with a long, lean frame. The man had sharp, angular features and wore no hat. His dark hair ruffled by the breeze.

“You look as though someone has killed your puppy.” The gravel in the man’s deep voice surprised Hart. It reminded him so much of his brother. He blinked slowly, his thoughts of Robert interfering in reality.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve never seen a sadder sight than you slumped on this bench.”

Taken aback, Hart found himself answering honestly. “I just found out some shocking news.” He peered up at the stranger. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know you. You came looking for me.” The man pulled out a white card from inside his jacket and held it up.

Hart recognized his calling card. “Mr. Seaton?”

The man nodded. “Yes, Rhys Seaton. What news did you hear?” Then he held up a hand. “No, let me guess, something scandalous about your dear old da?”

“How do you know that?” He rose to his feet. How would this man know that?

“Because you have just come from Blackpool’s residence. And I know all sorts of secrets. It’s part of what I do, sort of my currency, you could say.”

Hart clenched his fists. “So, you deal in blackmail? Is that why you have approached me? To threaten to expose my family’s secrets?”

Seaton threw his head back and laughed. “No, in quite the twist, I’m here to watch over you. I have been hired to protect you.”

What? Protect him? “Who hired you?”

“That I cannot say. The party is aggrieved at what happened to you and wishes to protect you from further harm.”

“Are you a Bow Street Runner?” Hart asked.

Seaton looked positively offended; his lip curled in disgust. “No.”

Hart was confused and honestly bone-weary tired even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “What do you want, Mr. Seaton? Because I don’t think I have the wherewithal for this mental chess.”

Seaton shrugged. “You called for me, remember?”

Oh yes, he had asked for Seaton to contact him. What about again? Hart tried to get his thoughts together. The Knot of Isis. “Uh, yes, we were… I mean, I was interested in the history of the building you own. The one that houses the Blue Angel. I recognized the symbol above the door. The Knot of Isis.”

“Is that what it’s called? Hmm.” Seaton tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “The building came to me through family. Our family, little brother.”