Sylvester’s eyes flashed momentarily, but his sudden wrath vanished in a chuckle. “You’re an impudent dog, Tristram. Did you ever care for what I said?”
“Very rarely,” said Shield.
“Quite right,” approved Sylvester. “Damme, I always liked you for it! What have you been saying about the boy?”
“Eustacie wanted to hear the story. Apparently you told her he was dead.”
“He is dead to me,” said Sylvester harshly. “Of what use to let her make a hero of him? You may depend upon it she would. Did you tell her?”
“Basil told her.”
“You should have stopped him.” Sylvester lay frowning, his fingers plucking a little at the gorgeous coverlet. “Basil believed the boy’s story,” he said abruptly.
“I have never known why, sir.”
Sylvester flashed a glance at him. “You didn’t believe it, did you?”
“Did any of us, save only Basil?”