Viscount Crispen Lloyd-York was having trouble speaking. His face was plum-purple and his eyes were bulging. The butler stepped back from his master’s desk, turned and walked away as discreetly as possible. It had been a long time since he’d seen his master at the point of apoplexy.
Crispen looked up as the door opened again and his father moved slowly into the room, leaning heavily on his walking stick. This was just what he needed. He ignored the old man and picked up the slip of paper the butler had delivered.
“So you’ve managed to turn another one of my plans to horseshit?” His father leaned his cane against the desk and put his hand on the desktop to steady himself.
Crispen put the note down and smoothed it flat with his long, manicured fingers. “I don’t recall this being your plan, or indeed recall any plans of yours whatsoever.”
The old man gave him a moment. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? There is only one person in your world.”
“Given the available options, that’s how I prefer things to be.”
“You were the same as a child. No friends. I don’t think I ever saw you smile.” He squinted at him. “Except when someone got hurt.”
“Does your visit have a purpose, or are you just here to reminisce about my childhood?”
“Believe me, that is the last thing I wish to remember.” He pointed at the note. “What are you going to do about that?”
Crispen picked up the paper and frowned at it.
“It was such a simple thing,” the old man said. “Bring Richmond back to London and have him hanged. But you couldn’t even get that right.”
“It is a temporary setback.”
His father sniffed. “Yes, another.”
Crispen’s jawline showed in his cheeks and he took a long slow breath. “Do you have something to contribute? Because if not, I’d prefer silence to your constant prattle.”
“Richmond’s estate runs along the river,” the old man said, ignoring him. “We need access to the river if we are to exploit the opportunities presented by the conflict in the New World.”
Crispen sighed. “And you feel the need to repeat this why?”
“Because you seem to have forgotten our… delicate state of affairs.”
“Not something I’m likely to forget, is it? Your management of those affairs is what has brought us to our knees.”
The old man sniffed. “My dear boy, I relinquished that the moment you came back from school. A dreary day.”
“And it is because I returned that we still have a roof over our heads and the remnants of a reputation.”
The old man took his cane and stepped away from the desk. “Then I shall leave this business in your hands.” He turned and limped away. “I expect we shall be on the streets before winter.”
“Send Roberts in. Do one thing to justify your existence.”
The old man left the door open.