Page 32 of Married to the Lord

Chapter Twelve

Miles released the tension from the bow and dropped the arrow to the ground when he recognized the man approaching. It had taken a moment as his usual chestnut hair had lightened, flashes of gold streaked through it, and his skin was darker than usual. Henry’s broad smile appeared whiter against the tan of his skin. Miles curled his fingers around the bow. He was happy his brother was home—really he was.

But there was no running from it now.

Henry was here to marry Augusta.

His heart gave a sickly thud against his chest and he drew in a long breath through his nostrils in an attempt to govern it. He would not allow his foolish emotions to govern him any longer. He’d already proved himself entirely incapable of managing them yet again.

Henry strode rapidly over to where Miles had been practicing and jerked his head toward the target. “Still room for improvement I see.”

Miles lifted a brow. “Almost all of them at dead center.”

“I could still best you,” his brother challenged.

“We shall see.”

Henry’s grin widened and he embraced Miles before stepping back. “It is good to see you, Brother. It appears the years have done you no favors.”

“Whereas they have done you plenty. I imagine all the woman will enjoy your new exotic look.”

“With the unpredictable summers we enjoy here in England, I suspect I shall be back to pale and uninteresting before long.”

Miles shook his head. Henry had always been known as the more dashing one. Up until deserting them all in favor of travelling, he’d been an exemplary man. Charming, a gentleman to the core, traditionally attractive, and with the sort of personality that drew people to him, Miles could not deny envying his brother many a time. Though, none more so than now. Henry would finally claim Augusta as his.

“You must be tired,” Miles said, propping the bow against the target and loosening the arm guard from his wrist before tucking it in his pocket.

“I have enjoyed better journeys, but I have also endured worse.”

“I can imagine.” Miles nodded. “You shall have to avail me of your adventures.”

“I will indeed. Though, first, if we may, refreshments. I am parched and the journey from Southampton in the mail coach was longer than anticipated. The bloody thing threw a wheel.”

“Of course.” Miles motioned toward the house. “Let us get you inside.”

Henry peered up at the house from their position on the flat grass that spanned one side of the lake. “It is good to be home.”

Miles peered at him. “Is it?”

“Absolutely. Why would it not be?”

“Because, dear Brother, mother and I have been writing to you for quite some time in attempts to persuade you home.”

Henry grimaced. “I know.”

They began their walk back toward the house, climbing up the gentle slope that led into the formal gardens. Once between the lines of planted flowers and carefully trimmed, waist-height trees, Henry paused and glanced around. “It really is good to be home. I missed the green of England. There is none quite like it.”

“I would not know,” Miles murmured. He had travelled somewhat in his younger years but only to the nearest reaches of Europe. His younger brother was no doubt far more experienced than him at this point. Travel did not appeal greatly to Miles but he could not help experience another pang of envy. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t love Henry so damned much. It would make life a lot easier.

“I understand why you would not be happy with me, Miles,” Henry announced as they followed the path that led around the house to the rear doors.

“I never said that.”

Henry lifted a shoulder. “You did not need to. I would not be happy with me. I abandoned you to deal with all that you had inherited, I abandoned mother in her time of grief and...well...” Henry glanced down. “I abandoned my commitments.”

His heart gave another untimely thud. “Augusta,” he muttered.

Henry nodded. “It was not my finest moment. Nor can I claim these past years were.”

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