Page 35 of Project Duchess
“At one time, they did.”
Noticing the edge in his voice, she slanted a glance at him. “What changed between them?”
He shrugged. “From what Mother has said, I gather that things changed after Thorn returned to England when he came of age. He wanted Gwyn to come with him, but she refused.”
“Why?” Beatrice asked.
He shifted to look at her, searching her face as if trying to decide how much to say. “Gwyn had a beau, some officer, whom she was sure would marry her eventually. Then something happened between them. The end result was she jilted him, apparently because of something Thorn said.” He observed her a bit too closely. “You know how brothers are.”
Oh, dear, this was probably Grey’s oblique way of trying to get her to speak about Joshua. “I do, indeed.”
When she said no more, Grey went on with a frown. “After that, she couldn’t forgive Thorn for meddling in her affairs. She won’t say exactly what happened, Thorn won’t even acknowledge his part in it, and Mother doesn’t know. So, here they stand, always at odds.”
“I sympathize,” she muttered, thinking of Joshua.
“How so? Do you and your brother not get along?”
“Not since Joshua returned from the war,” she admitted reluctantly. “We . . . don’t know how to be around each other anymore.”
“Ah. I can understand that.” He watched the twins. “I feel much the same aboutmysiblings. When you’re apart for a long time, you—” A thin smile crossed his lips. “Discover that you’ve found different interests and formed independent opinions, and now you’re practically strangers.”
She shot him a smile of pure relief. Grey understood exactly what she was feeling. How lovely to find someone who did. “He’s not even the same person anymore. The Joshua I knew before the war was quiet and contemplative. He liked nothing so much as a good book and a glass of wine . . . or a long walk in the woods. Then Grandpapa bought him a commission, he was wounded on the Continent, and—”
“He changed.”
She nodded. “Dramatically. He became temperamental—melancholy one moment, angry the next. It’s hard to explain. I so want him to be how he used to be.”
A bitter laugh escaped Grey. “Battle alters people, and such a change is generally permanent.”
“How wouldyouknow?” Beatrice cast him a hard stare. “You’ve never been to war.”
He gazed blindly ahead. “There are more kinds of battle than those fought in wars.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but at that moment, the music ended.
Her aunt burst into applause, forcing Beatrice and Grey to do the same.
“Well, Miss Wolfe?” Thornstock said, coming to stand in front of Beatrice. “Who’s the better dancer? Me or Gwyn?”
“You are both very accomplished, truly. I couldn’t possibly—I mean—”
“Ignore my idiot brother,” Grey said. “He’s just being an arse. Thorn has never worried about anyone else’s opinion of him. None of us do, I’m afraid. It’s a family trait.” He arched an eyebrow at his half brother. “And Thorn is the worst.”
As if to prove Grey’s point, Thornstock burst into laughter. “Grey is right—I don’t need a judge of my abilities to know that I proved Gwyn wrong.” With a taunting glance back to where Gwyn was rolling her eyes, he held out his hand to Beatrice. “And I’ll prove it again. Come dance with me.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Beatrice responded, “I don’t know the steps. I’ve never even seen a minuet danced until just now.”
“Then you must learn,” Thornstock said.
A muscle worked in Grey’s jaw. “I’ll teach her.”
“You will not,” Thornstock replied. “I’ve already danced once with Gwyn. She’s your problem now.” Then the man waggled his fingers at Beatrice. “Come, Miss Wolfe. We’ll start with my showing you the steps, and then Mother will play the slowest minuet over and over until you can master it.”
Grey crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you didn’t even want to be doing this. Go have your ride. I’ll take care of teaching Beatr—Miss Wolfe.”
Mischief gleamed in Thornstock’s eyes as he apparently caught the slip. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d be delighted to instruct Miss Wolfe in . . . all sorts of things.”
Grey began to look as if he might throttle the man when Gwyn breezed over to take Beatrice’s arm. “Good Lord,Iwill teach her the steps, thank you very much. Why don’t you two go call for some tea to be brought? I daresay we’ll need it if you intend to keep snarling at each other.”
