Stephen stood in the room, one shoulder against the mantel, his crutches to one side. His head was bowed, a mulish expression on his face, a glass clutched in one hand. Chase hesitated, recognizing a crisis in the making.

He really didn’t want to get involved with Stephen’s contretemps, but his book sat on a table just past the youth. Chase wondered if he could retrieve it without getting sucked into a lengthy conversation about whatever was paining Stephen.

He must have made some noise, for Stephen lifted his head, his gaze landing on Chase. “Oh,” he said in a sullen tone. “It’s you.” He lifted the glass and tossed back the contents, gasping a little as he did so.

Chase caught the scent of brandy and raised his brows. “Does your sister know you are drinking?”

“Yes,” Stephen said, his eyes blazing. “She is not my keeper and neither are you, sir. I am nineteen years of age and may do as I please.”

Chase opened his mouth, but then stopped. Normally, he would have met such pretension with a swift and brutal rejoinder, one guaranteed to put the insolent pup in his place. But somehow, in the back of Chase’s head, he heard the words “selfish wretch” spoken over and over.

Chase sighed. He really didn’t have a choice. “Very well. Let’s start anew. Stephen, how nice to see you.”

Stephen gave a bitter laugh and turned away. His face was flushed with drink, his eyes glittering.

Chase rubbed his chin. What should he do now? Just take the book and leave? But no, that’s exactly what Harriet would expect him to do and he’d be damned if he’d prove her right. “What holds you here, in the library? I believe dinner is served shortly.” He ambled closer to the table.

“I don’t care—” Stephen grimaced. “What is that smell?”

“My hands. I had blisters and your sister used the sheep ointment on them.”

Stephen pressed a hand to his nose. “How horrid. I do hope you mean to bathe.”

“As soon as the water has been heated.” Chase eyed Stephen for a moment, noting how the lad’s gaze rested on him with sullen intent. “Harriet told you my true identity, eh?”

Stephen nodded. “And that you’ve known all along who you are. Harriet seems to think you didn’t act with malice and I—” He bit his lip a moment, then said, “Allow me to apologize on behalf of the family for our deception, as well. I’m sure it must seem very odd to you.”

“Nonsense. It made perfect sense or I’d have never agreed to assist you. I daresay that if I’d been in your shoes, I’d have made up a Captain Frakenham, too.”

“Thank you all the same,” Stephen said stiffly. “You are too kind.”

Chase eyed the lad curiously. Despite the boy’s frigidly polite tone, there was an underlying expression of agony. What did one do when one actually wished to encourage confidences? Chase wondered what Harriet would do in just such a situation.