Page 62 of Vanquished By A Viscount
Charlie frowned at Lady Sandridge and said, “You will pay for this, madame.”
“Me?” Lady Sandridge pressed a hand to her chest with indignant shock. “Dr. Pettigrew is the one who cornered my sweet Eudora alone in a parlor and loosened the front of her gown. Only a husband has that right to a woman’s person, so a husband the man shall be.”
She turned up her nose and stormed off after her daughter.
“You know I did nothing of the sort,” Pettigrew sighed.
“I know,” Charlie told him, thumping his shoulder and steering the man so that they could both follow the miserable, conniving ladies. “But if you explain why you could never do such a thing you will land yourself in a hotter stew.”
“And if it becomes greater public knowledge that a lady was compromised at your sister’s house party, Lady Felcourt’s reputation could be the real damage.”
Any attempt to smile and see the situation as amusing that Charlie might have had withered. After everything he had done and sacrificed for Barbara and her standing in society, he would be damned if he had a silly cow of a girl and her meddling mama destroy her standing.
Twenty
Gray returned downstairs in defeat when he did not find Charlie in his bedroom. It seemed as though no matter what he did at the moment, he made things worse rather than better. A part of him no longer had the desire to even try to reach for the things he wanted in life. The only thing he truly wanted was Charlie, and Charlie seemed determined to run away from him at every chance he got.
He huffed ironically and shook his head at that thought as he descended the last stair and turned the corner to head down the hall toward one of the doors that would take him outside, where he might breathe fresh air and perhaps clear his head. As it happened, though, Robert was just coming out of his study as he made the gesture.
“What is that all about?” his brother asked, stopping short and staring at Gray with a puzzled frown.
Gray no longer had the will to hide anything about his feelings from his brother. Defeat had robbed him of even the desire to maintain an image of strength. “All is lost,” he said with what was most likely an overly dramatic shrug. “Charlie witnessed me conversing with Howard Bradford in the fronthall. I am afraid he assumed the worst, as he has been doing for the last few days, and now I cannot find him to explain things.”
If there had been any sort of chair nearby, Gray would have flopped into it and sprawled. Unfortunately, there was no such furnishing nearby, so he was forced to stand lamely where he was, posture slumping.
Robert shifted his weight and crossed his arms, hiding the bottom half of his face behind one hand, like he was laughing at Gray. “The stars have not been in your favor where Charlie is concerned, have they.”
Gray sent his brother a doleful look. “You are laughing at me,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Robert loosened his stance with a short chuckle. “Everything makes me want to laugh this morning,” he said. “My wife faced death last night and triumphed. I have her back in my arms with everything that formerly stood between us erased. Love has conquered all for me and Barbara, and I am certain it will be the conquering hero for you and Charlie as well.”
His brother’s words instilled Grayson with a bit of confidence, but not as much as he would have liked. “I do love Charlie,” he admitted, still wanting to sigh but holding it in. “I’ve always loved him, from the very moment we met. But even you must admit there are impediments between us.”
“Nonsense,” Robert said, waving the idea away. “Thousands of men before you have crafted means of making a life together. What about those two chaps from Oxford whose portraits stand facing each other in the chapel, or some building such as that? Or your fellows in The Brotherhood?”
“They did not have Australia standing between them,” Gray replied sulkily.
Robert snorted and shook his head, then stared at Gray as if he were a dolt. “Then do not go to Australia,” he said, emphasizing every word.
Gray squirmed. “I have already booked passage at great expense,” he said. “And I do love to travel and see the world.”
“More than you love Charlie and want to be with him?”
Gray knew immediately that the answer was no. He would have been delighted if Charlie wanted to visit antipodean destinations with him, but knew that would never happen as long as Barbara and Downham Manor existed.
At the same time, he felt very much as though he were running out of excuses. And why was he attempting to make excuses for why all was hopeless in the first place? He no longer feared that Charlie would change his mind and push him aside for the sake of appearances. Or did he?
“Do you know, Robert,” he said, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I am beginning to believe that trust is not rebuilt in one day, or one summer, and that the wounds that were once inflicted need care and conscious effort to heal.”
“You are just understanding this now?” Robert raised one eyebrow at him.
“At least I am realizing it now rather than?—”
His wise words of dawning maturity were cut short by a woman’s shout from the other side of the house. “Scandal! Infamy! My daughter has been irreparably compromised!”
Gray twisted to look down the hall, then turned back to Robert. “What the devil is that about?” he asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Robert said, expression turning grave.
