Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

1: Law Stable Baby

Daniel Vincent Humphrey – Vincent to all who loved him – was uncomfortable. This was not entirely unexpected.

He was standing in the corner of the parlour, back pressed against a bookshelf. One row rested against his skull, his upper back, his hips. It was uncomfortable, but in a helpful way. It stopped his mind from wandering as he listened to the conversation in the room.

The discussion was mainly between two. The first was Vincent's eldest brother, Simon Humphrey, Duke of Germaine. Simon was tall, medium-build, with the same brown and beige complexion as the rest of the Humphrey family. In that moment, he was smiling, lounging back in an armchair with one leg crossed over the other. The position put his boots on display – Vincent doubted this was deliberate – and highlighted the excellent shine put on them by Simon's valet. Perhaps he was using a new cleaning product? Or did he regularly massage them with oil? Vincent glanced at his own shoes with a frown, wondering if he should begin putting more effort into them. It would not do to embarrass his family by walking about in ill-oiled shoes.

The shelves at his back dug in and he returned his gaze to the room before him. And the room looked back at him.

The other person in the parlour that had been doing the bulk of the talking was a matron with greying black hair, a sharp nose, and a bulky dress that had sounded like a rainstorm as she'd sashayed into the room a half hour earlier. Now she watched him with a smile that slowly faded.

Vincent looked at Simon.

He was too far away to hear the sigh that undoubtedly escaped Simon's lips; he saw it in the shift of his brother's shoulders though. "Our aunt asked how your schooling proceeds, Vin."

Vincent nodded. He was studying the law. In truth, he was fascinated by the law. It was all rules and agreements put firmly on paper for all to see. There was debate and discussion, but it was rigorous and without feeling. There were none of the pitfalls of normal conversation.

But his passion for the law did not make the law easy to talk about.

"It..." No, he shouldn't say it that way; too impersonal.

"If..." It would be idiotic to begin theoretically.

"I have one week of term remaining. Within the month I will be qualified." Once the words began, he had no trouble maintaining their flow; it would be most improper and inconvenient to have to consider and reconsider every sentence. He was most grateful to only be slightly broken.

In that moment, his relations were quite convincingly appearing not frustrated with him. Simon's smile was still in place, hidden from Vincent as his brother directed his attention back to their aunt, and the tension in his neck that sometimes appeared was absent. For her part, their Aunt Delia was looking quite... happy.

Mrs Cordelia Kilroy was their paternal aunt, the sister of their deceased father. She had taken much care over the years to check in on her nieces and nephews. Vincent wondered to himself briefly whether this was due to affection or a sense of duty since their parents' early demise. He hadn't been present at enough visits to know. It was only since Vincent's elder sister's marriage the previous year that these calls had begun to include him and some of his other brothers.

Aunt Delia smiled. Her hands clapped in front of her. "Oh, that is so wonderful to hear, Vincent. I am sure your late parents, may they rest in peace, would be so glad to know you're doing well."

Perhaps they would, Vincent thought. Or perhaps not. It depended on one's definition of 'well'.

"Unlike one of your brothers, eh Vinny?"

This was from Matthew, the youngest Humphrey brother. He quirked his brow at Vincent and raised his glass a fraction before taking a sip. It was always comforting when Matt spoke. This was for two reasons. Firstly, the brothers were possibly the closest out of any of the siblings. It must have had to do with their ages – they were born almost a year apart to the day – because it was most definitely not a similarity in personality. Where Vincent was sedate, Matthew was exuberant. Where Vincent was stern, Matthew was ... well, exuberant.