What Happens in London Read Free

for supper. It was, he liked to say, the mark of a gentleman. And no matter how small their dinner party (just Sir Lionel, Lady Valentine, and whichever of their children were in residence, 99 percent of the time), he liked to play the host. Which generally meant quite a lot of storytelling and bon mots , except that Sir Lionel tended to forget themiddle bits of the stories, and his “mots” weren’t terribly “bon.”
    Which in turn meant quite a lot of pained silence on the part of his family, who spent most of the supper pretending they didn’t notice when the gravy boat was knocked over, or when Sir Lionel’s wineglass was refilled.
    Again.
    And again.
    And then, of course, again.
    No one ever told him to stop. What was the point? Sir Lionel knew he drank too much. Harry had lost track of the number of times his father had turned to him and sobbed, “I’m thorry, I’m tho, tho thorry. Don’t mean to be a trouble. You’re a good boy, Harry.”
    But it never made a difference. Whatever it was that drove Sir Lionel to drink, it was far more powerful than any guilt or regret he might muster to stop it. Sir Lionel was not in denial about the extent of his affliction. He was, however, completely powerless to do anything about it.
    As was Harry. Short of tying his father to his bed, which he was not prepared to do. So instead he never invited friends home, he avoided being in the house at suppertime, and, now that school was done, he counted the days until he could depart for university.
    But first he had to make it through the summer. He hopped down from the carriage when they came to a stop in the front drive, then held up his hand to aid his aunt. Sebastian followed, and together the three of them made their way to the drawing room, where Katarina was pecking at her needlepoint.
    “Anna!” she said, looking as if she might rise to her feet (but not quite doing so). “What a lovely surprise!”
    Anna leaned down to embrace her, then took a seat opposite. “I thought I would give Harry a ride home from school.”
    “Oh, is the term finished, then?” Katarina murmured.
    Harry gave a tight smile. He supposed he deserved the blame for her ignorance, as he had neglected to tell her that school was done, but really, shouldn’t a mother keep up on such details?
    “Sebastian,” Katarina said, turning to her nephew. “You’ve grown.”
    “It happens,” Sebastian quipped, flashing her his usual lopsided grin.
    “Goodness,” she said with smile, “you’ll be a danger to the ladies soon.”
    Harry very nearly rolled his eyes. Sebastian had already made conquests of nearly all the girls in the village near Hesslewhite. He must give off some sort of scent, because the females positively fell at his feet.
    It would have been appalling, except that the girls couldn’t all dance with Sebastian. And Harry was more than happy to be the nearest man standing when the smoke cleared.
    “There won’t be time for that,” Anna said briskly. “I have purchased a commission for him. He departs in a month.”
    “You shall be in the army?” Katarina said, turning to her nephew with surprise. “How grand.”
    Sebastian shrugged.
    “Surely you knew, Mother,” Harry said. Sebastian’s future had been decided several months earlier. Aunt Anna had been fretting that he needed a male influence ever since his father had died. And since Sebastian wasn’t likely to come into a title or a fortune, it was understood that he’d have to make his own way in the world.
    No one, not even Sebastian’s mother, who thought the sun rose and set on her boy, had even suggested he consider the clergy.
    Sebastian wasn’t overly excited about the prospect of spending the next decade or so fighting Napoleon, but as he’d said to Harry—what else could he do? His uncle, the Earl of Newbury, detested him and had made it clear that Sebastian could expect no perks, monetary or otherwise, from that connection.
    “Maybe he’ll die,” Harry