Page 7 of Vanquished By A Viscount
“It appears to be sound to me,” Pettigrew said, taking a subtle step back from the young woman.
“Oh, but youmustexamine it,” Lady Eudora insisted.
“Perhaps after luncheon, if you are still in distress,” Pettigrew said.
“Distress?” Lady Eudora blinked as if she’d never heard of the concept.
Charlie would have roared with laughter and concocted some way to come to his friend’s defense, but at that moment, Gray appeared at the top of the stairs.
The world held its breath as their eyes instantly met. Charlie’s heart felt caught in a vise for a moment at the sight of his former beloved. Age had treated Grayson well. He no longer had the green look of boyhood about him, but he maintained a youthful appearance. His dark hair was as impossibly tousled as ever, and even across the distance, his blue eyes shone. Hismouth was every bit as sinful as it had always been, but he’d gained a stronger form.
He was still lithe and graceful as he descended the stairs. Charlie instantly recalled everything his glorious body could do, how it tasted, the scent of his sweat. He even recalled the sweet sighs of pleasure and the harsher grunts of some of their more athletic pursuits. All of it threatened to enliven him to the point of making it obvious to anyone who might lower their eyes below his waist to just how he felt about Gray all these years later.
And then came the sneer that snapped Charlie out of his amorous thoughts. He focused on Gray’s face again to find it contorted in such hatred that it turned Charlie’s rushing blood to ice. Those lovely eyes were filled with malice, and the flush of color that painted Gray’s face was blotchy and angry. Grayson’s easy grace turned instantly to sharp, jerking movements as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Gray met Charlie’s eyes with fire, intensity, and loathing, then turned abruptly aside and continued on down a side hall without so much as a backward glance or a nod for Barbara or the other ladies.
Charlie knew what extreme malice looked like when he saw it.
And he didn’t half think he deserved it.
“If you will excuse me,” he said, his voice suddenly gruff. “I need to see to the unloading and unpacking of my things, since my valet will not be arriving for a few days still.”
“Oh, is Olivier ill?” Barbara asked, full of concern for the middle-aged man who had not only served as Charlie’s valet since he came of age, but who had been something of a father figure to both of them.
“No, no, not to worry,” Charlie said, kissing his sister’s cheek once more. “I gave him leave to visit his sister and her family for a time before coming here.”
Barbara beamed at him. “Did I not tell you that my brother is the finest man alive?” she asked Lady Eudora, Lady Sandridge, and Pettigrew. Of course, then she had to go and add, “I am determined to ensure that his personal happiness becomes equal to my own by binding up old wounds in the next few weeks.”
Charlie sighed, “Please don’t,” he whispered in Barbara’s ear before stepping away from her.
Whether Barbara intended to make any reply, she was stopped as Lady Sandridge addressed Pettigrew with, “Good sir, if you could but see to my daughter’s needs, all will be well.”
Pettigrew sent Charlie a last look of desperation, but Charlie was unable to answer the call. He started off for the door, intending to oversee the footmen in unloading the last of his things from the carriage. After that, he would retreat to whatever room Barbara had assigned to him to unpack. With any luck, he would be able to hide away there and avoid Gray’s malice before any wars were started.
Two
The moment Grayson spotted Charlie from the top of the stairs leading into the front hall, he felt as if he’d been hit square in the chest by a crossbow bolt. How dare the man poison Hawthorne House with his presence? And how dare he look so fit and appealing as he did so? Seven years had only improved Charlie’s appearance. He had grown into himself. His shoulders seemed broader than before, the line of his jaw firmer, his waist trimmer, and the fit of his breeches?—
Gray snarled at himself and proceeded down the stairs, body stiff with his effort to contain his fury…and older, hotter emotions he did not wish to think about. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he glared at Charlie with a warning that the false, fickle bastard should keep his distance for the duration of the party, then turned and marched off down the side hall that would take him toward his dear, departed father’s study. His body felt hot with old emotions and new as he strode down the hall, scowling.
Robert was seated at their father’s desk, poring over some of the household accounting books, as Gray entered. The blast of healing grief for their father and sympathy for the mantle of responsibility that had fallen on Robert’s shoulders at too youngan age momentarily superseded the anguish—no, the anger—of seeing Charlie again.
“Is everything in order?” he asked, going straight to the large desk scattered with accountancy books and household receipts and perching stiffly on its corner. “Do you require assistance with anything?”
Robert finished reading the paper in his hand, put it down, and sighed. “I need assistance in increasing the estate’s income in order to pay for this party,” he said. He leaned back in their father’s large, leather chair and rubbed a hand over his face. Despite Robert being past thirty, he looked like a boy playing at being an earl instead of the man of responsibility he was now.
“You did not need to indulge Barbara by hosting this ridiculous party,” Gray said, unhappy with how sullen he sounded.
Robert widened his eyes and arched one eyebrow at Gray’s grumpiness. “Your tune has changed since the idea was conceived this winter.”
Gray winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders hunching. “Forgive me,” he said. “I am out of sorts. You know I love Barbara like a sister and would support you in giving her whatever is necessary to make her happy.”
Even speaking those words filled Gray with uncomfortable feelings of longing and sentimentality…that swiftly turned to resentment. In another world, another life, Barbara might have been as close to a sister as was possible without the connection of blood. If Charlie had not wickedly and callously thrown him over, and for no reason that Gray had ever been able to understand, they might have all been as if one united, happy family.
Robert studied Gray intently for a moment before letting out a breath. “You know Barbara has been restless these last few weeks,” he said, pushing out of his chair and pacing the length ofthe room as Gray watched him. “I am well aware that new brides require a period of adjustment to their changed situation in life. I’ve tried everything I can to make that transition as smooth as possible.”
“I know,” Gray said, pivoting on the corner of the desk to face his brother more fully. “You are a passionate and devoted husband.”
