Charlotte’s eyes widened as she entered the drawing room. Aldridge’s hair had been trimmed so close to his scalp that, fair as he was, it was near invisible.
“Lord Aldridge. I didn’t expect you after I heard of your injury. Should you not be resting?”
He smiled and bowed. Even shaved like a convict off a hulk, with one side of his scalp pink and already peeling, he was temptation personified, all elegance and charm.
The fire had not affected the low hum of his voice. “The injury is more to my self-esteem than my physical well-being, Lady Charlotte. My valet has done the best he could to remove the singed bits and even up the sides so I can appear in public, but I present an odd appearance, I know.”
“Startling, let us say,” Charlotte offered. “I suppose you are anxious to speak with Tony. I shall show you up.”
He inclined his head, and followed as she led the way to Tony’s bedchamber. “You will find him alert, and the distraction of your visit is just what he needs,” she confided. “He has refused the laudanum, but I am sure the leg and rib must be paining him.”
The boy was sitting up in bed, supported by pillows, two other pillows elevating his leg. Charlotte had organised a tray table and a variety of activities to keep him occupied. He was currently frowning at a wooden puzzle. It had come apart easily enough, and now needed to be rebuilt in precisely the right order.
He looked up and smiled as they entered. Charlotte carried out the introductions. “Meet Tony Tweedy, Aldridge. Tony, this is Lord Aldridge, the gentleman I spoke to you about.” Charlotte nodded to the footman who had been sitting with the boy. He put the book he had been reading into his pocket and slipped out of the room.
“You knocked out the guard and gave me the chance to escape,” the boy said.
“I am glad I could help.” Aldridge pulled up a second chair beside the one the footman had occupied. “My lady?”
Charlotte sat so that Aldridge could do so, and Tony shifted awkwardly to face them, wincing as he did so. He narrowed his eyes. “Her ladyship thinks you might be my father.” His tone was threaded with resentment.
Aldridge inclined his head. “I have no doubt we are related, Mr Tweedy. You look too much like the men of my family for doubt. Which means you can be assured of my help, whether we are distant cousins or the closest of kin. What did your mother tell you about your father?”
Tony rewarded Aldridge’s promise with a cynical glance but answered the question. “He were—was a nob. A nobleman’s son, she said. Not a sailor died in the wars, like I always thought. He bought her the shop she ran till she got sick. She said I was old enough to know the truth, and sides—besides, I mean—I was going to meet him when we got to London.” His jaw tightened and his eyes glistened as he forced out the next sentence. “’Cept she died, din’t she? And I din’t know who the dandiprat was or ’ow to find ’im.” Aldridge nodded calmly. “Then let’s talk about what you do know, and work it out.”
