A Gentleman Never Tells(54)

Sir Randolph Gibson was staring out the window, though Brent had no idea what he might be looking at. The rain was now pouring down in torrential sheets, and no one was on the walkways. When Brent had been out, it was too gloomy and murky even to see the coaches as they passed him on the streets.

Brent remained where he was for a moment, watching the man. From what he’d learned from the runner he’d hired from Bow Street, Sir Randolph was in his sixties, though he hardly looked a day over fifty. He was a tall, robust, handsome fellow, with a thatch of silver hair that most men his age would envy.

Apparently there were three gentlemen, cousins in fact—a duke, a marquis, and an earl—who watched after the old man and had saved him from losing his wealth to such risky ventures as a hot air balloon travel business and a time machine. Earlier in the year, the old man had even been involved in some kind of boxing match over a spinster’s honor. The runner couldn’t find out much about that, but said shortly after the fight—which somehow the old man had won—the lady and her brother had left London.

The runner said Sir Randolph inherited his considerable wealth. His father had struck it rich in the shipping business when England was still trying to maintain control of its colonies across the sea. The war that followed made the old sea merchant a wealthy man, and it all went to Sir Randolph when his father died.

Brent didn’t know any of the three gentlemen who watched over Sir Randolph. No doubt the man’s substantial estate and no legitimate heirs were the main reasons the cousins, who had no blood relation to him, were so eager to step in and take care of him when needed.

The most interesting thing he’d been told was that over the years, Sir Randolph Gibson had been constantly sought after by ladies young and old, widows, innocents, and spinsters, too, all wanting to better their station in life by becoming his wife. But according to the runner, no one had ever caught his fancy enough for him to propose matrimony. According to rumor, Sir Randolph held solidly to the fact that the deceased Lady Elder, who was married four times but never to Sir Randolph, was the only woman he’d ever loved. But obviously she wasn’t the only lady he’d ever made love to. Matson and Iverson were testament to that.

With that thought, Brent entered the room and headed toward the table by the window.

Sir Randolph rose from the table and bowed. “My lord.”

“Sir Randolph,” Brent said, pulled out the chair opposite the man, and sat down.

“What are you drinking?” Sir Randolph asked as a server approached.

“Ale will do,” Brent said and waited for the server to walk away before adding, “I suppose you are wondering why I wanted you to meet me today.”

Sir Randolph shook his head as he folded his arms across his chest. “No, I didn’t wonder at all. I figured I knew.”

“My brothers,” Brent said.

Sir Randolph nodded.

“I’m afraid they are not as worried as I am by the fact they look so much like you.”

A sparkle lit in his brown gaze and he quipped, “Would it help if I shaved my head and grew a beard?”

Liking the twinkle of humor in the old man’s eyes, Brent smiled. Only a few words out of his mouth and already he had disarmed Brent. It was no wonder Sir Randolph had caught his mother’s attention. Brent would have to be careful around the distinguished-looking dandy. Clearly, the sly old goat was cunning and clever enough to know how to win over his enemies.

Trying not to let Sir Randolph know that, so far, he was impressed with him, Brent said, “I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?”

“I suppose it is,” Sir Randolph answered, some of the sheen fading from his eyes. “I guess that would have worked only if I had known the twins were coming to Town.”

“So you knew about my brothers?”

Remaining unflustered, Sir Randolph nodded again and said, “Of course. I knew your parents had three sons.”

“Did you know two of them look like you?”

“I had never seen them until they arrived in Town a few weeks ago.”

Brent shifted in his chair and said, “Have you kept up with my brothers over the years?”

Sir Randolph’s gaze stayed steady on Brent’s. “That wasn’t my place to do, my lord.”

He was cagey, answering every question but giving little information. Brent started to ask, But did you know they were your sons? Did you and my mother or my father ever talk about the fact that they are your sons? But Brent held his tongue, not knowing if he really wanted to know that much about what went on with his parents and Sir Randolph.