The blows might have rendered him immobile for a time, but this reaction was more than that. With his gaze distant and his eyes glazed over, it didn’t seem the earl was with them any longer, but he certainly wasn’t dead.

“Could it be apoplexy?” Aiden asked.

“It’s possible, I suppose. If so, I shall take no pity on him.”

“Neither will I. He’s brought far worse hell to others.”

Graves had arrived and gone to the earl’s bedchamber to examine him. Aiden had gone to the club to inform the countess of what had transpired, and she’d returned with him to the manor. Aiden and Finn sat with her in the front parlor, awaiting the physician’s diagnosis.

The slamming of the front door echoed through the residence, and they all came to their feet as a young man rushed into the parlor. Aiden didn’t need an introduction to know he was Viscount Wyeth. He saw himself reflected in the man’s brown hair, dark eyes, and strong jaw.

“Mother.” He had his arms around the countess before the word was completely uttered. “I left my club as soon as I received your missive about Father. How does he fair?”

Aiden knew a pang of unjustified envy at the evidence of their close relationship. She wasn’t his mother. His mum was Ettie Trewlove. Yet, he couldn’t help but believe that he would have found her arms as welcoming as he did his mum’s.

“Dr. Graves is with him now. We hope to hear shortly.”

Wyeth leaned back and studied her. “You don’t look too chipper yourself.”

“I’ve been a bit under the weather, but I’m all right now.”

“Your father tried to poison her,” Aiden told him.

“My God!” Wyeth appeared horrified and incensed as he studied his mother more intently. “Is this true?”

“I fear so, although I have no proof. I was poisoned, yes. Dr. Graves can attest to that fact, but I can’t prove your father was the culprit. I’d be dead now if not for Aiden.”

“Aiden?”

“Your brother,” the countess said softly, looking toward him.

Wyeth’s gaze landed on him so hard that Aiden was surprised he didn’t hear a thud. The man’s eyes traveled the length of him, his curiosity obvious. “One of my father’s bastards that I’ve heard rumors about?”

“And one of mine as well.” The countess’s voice was quiet, but Aiden heard no shame mirrored in it. She was merely stating fact.

Her legitimate son’s gaze swung back to her, a corner of his mouth hiking up laconically. “So those rumors are also true.”