Page 59 of A Raven Reborn

Rosie laughed in earnest then, and threw her arms around him. Just in time, too, because the carriage was beginning to slow. A line of servants waited to greet them with bows and curtseys. Patrick’s brother, his wife, and their two young boys stood waiting at the front door. As they walked toward them, his brother’s eyes flicked to Rosie and back to Patrick, before he raised a judgmental brow. He hadn’t told his brother why he was coming, only that he was.

“Edward.” He shook his brother’s hand, before turning to his wife. “It’s lovely to see you, Ariana.” He bowed over her hand and bussed her cheek.

“I’d like to introduce you both to Rosie.” It was only in that moment that Patrick realized he didn’t know her Christian name, but even if he had, Miss whatever just wouldn’t have felt right. She would always be just Rosie to him. “My fiancée.”

Rosie immediately sank into a curtsey. “My lord. My lady.” His brother eyed him over the top of Rosie’s head as if she didn’t even exist. Every muscle in Patrick’s body clenched with fury.

Ariana stepped forward and banished the awkward tension that settled like an unwelcome fog. “Congratulations, Patrick!” she squeezed his shoulder tenderly before turning to Rosie.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rosie.” Ariana beamed at her. Rosie’s throat worked as she swallowed and forced her lips to turn up in a smile. His brother still hadn’t said a word, and she obviously hadn’t missed his rudeness. Patrick’s hands clenched into fists at his side. He’d love to slam one of them into his brother’s face, but now was not the time.

“And who are these handsome gentlemen?” Rosie asked, crouching down to be eye level with the boys.

Ariana glowed with pride as she moved to introduce them, but before she could speak the older boy, who was just seven, held out his hand. “Lord Harrington,” he said, bowing over Rosie’s hand.”

Patrick glared at his brother. “At least your son knows how to greet people politely.” Edward’s eyes narrowed at the insult.

“And this one,” Ariana said, pretending nothing was wrong, “Can you introduce yourself, as well, Ben?”

The boy couldn’t have been more than three, but he followed his brother’s lead. “Lord Benjamin Woodum” He held out his hand.

“Woodcombe,” Ariana corrected him.

“Woodome,” he said, trying again.

Rosie smiled and took his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.” From the smile on Ariana’s face, it was clear that Rosie was already winning her over, just as he knew she would.

The boys were then bustled away by a servant. Patrick remembered Daisy standing behind them. Her brow was furrowed as she looked boldly at his brother. “This is Daisy,” he motioned toward her, “Rosie’s companion.” Daisy was surprisingly graceful with her curtsey, as if she’d done this before.

Ariana summoned the housekeeper. “Will you please show Daisy to her room? Rosie and I are going to enjoy some tea in the yellow drawing room while the men do some catching up.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Daisy hurried to keep up as the housekeeper turned and strode through the front door.

Patrick placed a hand on Rosie’s lower back, gently encouraging her to go with Ariana. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty. He bent down and whispered into her ear, “Ariana is nothing but kind. You’ll be fine with her.”

“It’s you I’m worried about,” she whispered back.

Patrick chuckled softly. “I’ll be fine. Go.” He gave her a little nudge, and with a sigh, she followed Ariana into the house.

Once the ladies were out of earshot, he turned on his brother. “I will not tolerate rudeness when it comes to Rosie, Edward.”

Without a word, Edward turned on his heel and walked into the house.

“Of course I’ll join you for a glass of brandy,” Patrick called and followed him inside. He continued following him all the way into his study.

“Pour two glasses of brandy and then leave us,” Edward snapped at the footman who’d crept in behind them.

“Nothing ever changes,” Patrick said, noting his brother’s behavior.

“Clearly,” Edward sneered, and waited for the footman to deliver their drinks and leave before continuing. “You obviously still have a completely carefree life, with no responsibilities.”

Patrick barked a laugh. “Says the man who doesn't even pour his own drinks.” He rolled his eyes and took a long swallow. It was good brandy, he couldn’t find fault there.

"All you ever do, all you’ve ever done, is complain about your responsibilities, yet you're surrounded by people who see to your every whim." Patrick set his empty glass down on an end table. "You are a spoiled, selfish man, and you treat everyone around you like mud on the bottom of your shoe."

"Me?" he said, incredulously. He slammed his own drink down, splashing its contents over the side of the glass. "You barely set foot back here after Oxford, before shirking your responsibilities and dashing off to London, not a thought for anyone but yourself. Hardly a word from you while you gallivanted about, opening your nightclub, and doing whatever the hell you wanted without a care in the world. Then, more than a decade later, you have the audacity to arrive on my doorstep with some doxie on your arm, and proclaim to be betrothed?"

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