Read Nicholas: Lord of Secrets for Free Online

that book to her, to be the one sharing the hours with her.
    He sat there for a minute, savoring the simple sight of her. Sunshine beat down with springtime benevolence, while the scent of a field recently treated with the cow byre’s winter leavings lent a pungent, fertile undertone to the air. The mare swished her tail at some bold insect and stomped a hoof while Nick felt a yearning so old and futile it had long since eclipsed tears.
    What she needed from him was the self-discipline to turn the horse back down the hill and resume the search for that bride he’d promised his father. Life, Nick reflected as he trotted his horse through the glorious spring day, could be so damned brutally hard.
    ***
    “What has put you in the dismals?” Val asked Nick at breakfast the following Friday. “The sun is finally out, and spring is at hand.”
    “Buttercup and I ran into Ethan in the park this morning,” Nick replied. “He is enough to put anybody in the dismals. Pass the damned teapot.”
    Val slid the teapot—a pretty porcelain thing with blue and pink flowers glazed all over it—down to his host.
    “I do not know your elder brother well,” Val said, “but mention of him does not seem to cheer you.”
    “Nobody knows him well,” Nick opined, stirring a prodigious amount of sugar into his tea, then a fat dollop of cream. “We used to be close.”
    Valentine made no reply, and Nick resented both the silence and his companion’s perspicacity.
    “As boys,” Nick went on, “we were inseparable. I was his shadow, and we were of a size then, though he’s more than a year my elder. For several years, we rode one pony, then had to have matched ponies. Ethan is brilliant—quick and smart, not just one or the other. He could devise more ways to have fun and not get caught than you can imagine. Beckman used to trail us around like a puppy, and Ethan could lose him without him figuring out he’d been lost.”
    “You loved your older brother.”
    Nick scowled mightily. “Still do.” And nearly hated him too, sometimes.
    “So what happened?” Val prodded, reaching for the teapot.
    “An accident.” Nick tossed his tea back and appropriated the teapot before Val could pour himself a cup. “Bellefonte was in the habit of branding his saddles and harness and such with an H —for Haddonfield—and we thought we’d do the same with our boots, clever lads that we were. The brand landed on my backside by inadvertence, and Bellefonte decided Ethan had done it apurpose. Before that…”
    Nick poured a second cup, stirred in more sugar, then more cream.
    He stared at his tea. “Before that we were brothers and best friends. After Bellefonte tore into Ethan in front of me that day, we became the bastard and the heir. He sent us to separate public schools. He no longer permitted Ethan to spend holidays and summers with us. He sent Ethan to Cambridge while I went to Oxford.”
    Valentine considered the teapot at Nick’s elbow. “Over a stupid accident? That doesn’t sound like your father.”
    Nick’s smile was sad. “You know Bellefonte as a dear old fellow. Twenty years ago, he was up to his ears in children and responsibilities, and he was a regular Tartar. Grandmother sneaked a few letters for us, but Ethan and I could not sustain a bond. After a time, I told myself it was for the best. I imagine Ethan has done the same.”
    “How could losing a brother and a best friend be for the best?” Valentine had lost two brothers, one to war, one to consumption. Nick knew the question was sincere and… difficult.
    “I have three other brothers, and four sisters, and until my father sent Ethan away, I could barely have told you their names. Ethan and I were that close. As the heir, I needed to know my entire family, not just my favorite brother. Then too, Ethan needed to make his way, not spend his entire life protecting me and being my… companion.”
    “I don’t know, Nicholas.” Val made another try for the teapot,