Page 73 of The Sound of Seduction
“I’m not willing to leave England.”
Wendy pressed a hand to the hollow at her throat, startled by the intensity in Stan’s words. She hardly dared to breathe lest the sound betray her. Her breath hitched. He wasn’t leaving. Not yet. But his brother wanted him gone—and for reasons Wendy had no power to touch.
“What’s keeping you here?” Alex’s voice dropped, sharp and pressing. “What could be so good that you’d stay even though List tried to have youandour sister killed?”
Stan hesitated, his gaze momentarily flicking toward the desk nearby, where the open letter from their parents lay. “Mother wrote that List is boasting again—that he’ll begin by targeting the women who stand beside the men. That he’ll erase them first, soften us, then strike.”
Alex’s breath caught. “That’s how he plays it now?”
Stan nodded once, jaw clenched. “It’s not just about politics anymore. It’s personal. Tactical. Ruthless.” Silence. “Brother, I’m afraid that Thea is not the only woman in my life whose loss,”—he paused—“would crush me.”
The silence that followed made her ears ring. Her chest tightened as her breath grew shallow, desperate not to draw attention. Just then, her heel caught against the unsteady edge of a floorboard. The muffled creak echoed louder than a pistol’s crack in the quiet corridor.
Wendy froze, her eyes squeezing shut as though the very act could render her invisible. She slid her back against the wall, trying to flatten herself into the intricate floral wallpaper.
She opened her eyes again only to find Stan standing just beyond the door, his dark, piercing gaze meeting hers.
“Wendy?” His tone was laced with a mixture of surprise and a tenderness that sent warmth creeping up her neck.
Alex followed, stepping into view, his expression shifting from curiosity to mild exasperation. Up close, the familial resemblance was even more striking, as though someone had composed an alternate version of Stan in lighter shades.
“Should I have askedwho, then?” Alex straightened, raking a hand through his hair in a manner eerily similar to his brother’s.
Stan turned toward him, his jaw set. “I know you don’t think love is more important than duty, Alex. Spare me the lecture, for it is too late.”
Love. The word seared through Wendy with equal parts thrill and dread. He had said it aloud.
He stepped closer to Wendy, who was certain the heat from her face could have melted ice. With a measured gesture, he reached for her hand. His touch was steady, grounding her, and reassuring her whatever storm churned in that room, he stood by her.
“Please meet Miss Gwendolyn Folsham,” he said, his voice softer now. “Wendy, for short.”
Alex surveyed her with narrowed eyes, one brow arched as though silently questioning his brother’s judgment. Wendy felt a rush of self-awareness, her free hand instinctively smoothing her skirts under his scrutiny. Yet she did not flinch.
“Miss Folsham,” Alex said finally, offering the faintest inclination of his head. His tone held the detached politeness of someone indulging a frivolity they didn’t quite understand. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”
“Your Royal Highness,” Wendy replied, managing a curtsy even as her hand remained clasped in Stan’s. Her voice cracked faintly, betrayed by the quickened beat of her heart.
“It isn’t fair to her, you know,” Alex muttered as he turned to his brother. “But then again, when has List cared for fair?”
Stan’s hold tightened slightly against hers, his stillness speaking volumes more than words would. Whatever ground he stood on, he stood firm, but Wendy couldn’t yet see the whole of it. Whatever war roiled beyond the walls of Cloverdale House, it wasn’t just Stan’s but hers, too.
*
Stan’s grip onWendy’s hand remained steady, though the faintest tremor in her fingers sent an uneasy ripple down his spine. Alex’s gaze flicked between them, his sharp blue eyes assessing, dissecting, unraveling every unspoken thread with that infuriating precision only a brother possessed. It was not the outburst Stan had anticipated, none of the scorn or fury he had braced for. Instead, Alex tilted his head, his expression as inscrutable as always.
Wendy shifted beside him, and Stan’s focus sharpened. Her face, the delicate pink rising across her cheeks, struck him as both endearing and troubling. She sucked in her lower lip, trying to conceal that telltale blush, but it only sharpened his awareness of her discomfort. He couldn’t blame her. None of this was fair—to her most of all. For all her strength, her courage in tending the sick here, she’d never been exposed to a world like his. A world thick with shadows, obligations, and danger. If she stayed by his side, how much would she have to remake herself to fit into it—a world of shadows and strategy, where loyalty could be fatal and love an exploitable weakness. A dart of guilt pricked at his conscience.
Then she shifted again, subtly at first, her fingers beginning to pull from his hand. He felt the movement instantly, like the first hint of a door slipping open in a storm. Instinct overrode thought. He tightened his grip, a silent command that she shouldn’t leave his side now—not in front of Alex. He stepped closer, his other hand settling atop hers. The gesture demanded nothing, only offered her reassurance, a promise of stability when things seemed most precarious.
“Is this serious?” Alex finally asked, his voice even, but with an edge that cut through the quiet room. His gaze met Stan’s, steady and unrelenting.
“Yes.” The answer came from Stan’s throat as firmly and easily as breathing.
His eyes lingered on Wendy, watching as her head dipped slightly. Her lashes swept down, her gaze averted. It stung to see her retreat into herself, though her stillness kept a tenuous thread between them unbroken.
There was no mistaking the flicker of reaction in Alex’s eyes. His raised eyebrows conveyed more than his closed lips did. His mouth parted as if to say more, but before he could, Wendy gave a soft tug. It was nothing more than a gesture, an instinct to pull away and step back. But Stan caught it as if she’d yelled. He responded with urgency, as if her departure would tip everything out of balance.I’m not letting you go.
“So, you two…” Alex’s words trailed into the stillness.
