Page 136 of The Lyon Returns
“Thank you. Kindly see to my horse.” He paused and glanced back at the butler. “Is the duke in residence?”
“No. He’s taking supper at his club tonight.”
“Good.”
When he reached the library, he stood for a moment in the open doorway. At a glance, he spotted his brother, seated at a desk, slouching on one elbow while pouring over some sort of ledger. Open terrace doors leading to a small family courtyard at his back had been left open and flickering golden lantern light spilled in, creating a cozy atmosphere.
With a flick of his wrist, Gideon slammed the door.
Grayson started, jerking upright at the sharp bang, then glared at Gideon. “I say, Gid, you might have knocked. I was deeply immersed in the Hardwick estate books.” At that, he flashed Gideon a smile, all charm and innocence.
Ah, yes. Grayson, ever benevolent, with nary an objectionable thought.His own brother, one of three persons—before Gwen—he would happily die for.Againhe’d orchestrated a plot against Gideon.Why?
“Were you, indeed?” Gideon drawled, menace in every syllable. He stalked forward.
Grayson’s expression altered, as if he comprehended something was very wrong here. Studying Gideon, he unfolded from his chair. He kept the desk squarely between them.
“Rather an odd hour to call, isn’t it, Gideon?”
“What? Are you not pleased to see me, brother?”
Grayson blinked several times before responding. “What’s going on? I thought we’d moved past all this, whateverthisis. Or was.”
For a moment, Gideon was struck dumb. Then, he snapped. “Whateverthiswas? As if you don’t know. And to think, I forgave you, though Lord knows you did not deserve it. You never even acknowledged what I did for you, nor the despicable joke you orchestrated with me as the punch line.
“And now this.” He pulled Gwen’s folded letter from his waistcoat and shook it in the air. “How dare you. Howdareyou.”
Reaching across the desk, Grayson made several bids to grasp the letter, finally managing to snatch it. “How dare Iwhat?”he demanded, unfolding the foolscap. He scanned, then sent Gideon a baffled look. “What is this?”
He would not be baited into losing all control, he vowed silently. He would have his answers before exacting vengeance. “It’s a letter from the stakeholders of Gwen’s publishing house, as you very well know.”
Grayson continued to stare, his expression nonplussed.
Gideon spoke through clenched teeth, rather than shout. “The stakeholders you have pressured into thwarting my wife’s efforts at every turn.”
Slowly, his brother’s expression took on an angry cast. “Are you mad? Why in God’s name would I do that?”
“Why, indeed,” Gideon echoed. Some of the heat went out of him, leaving in its stead a deep sense of betrayal and pain. “Because you hate me. Because you’vealwayshated me.”
Grayson’s own anger seemed to disappear as swiftly as it had come. Now he gazed at Gideon with sage, compassion-filled eyes. Rounding the desk, he leaned a hip onto it and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I can promise you that, Gideon. You vex me, at times, Father’s favoritism toward you has wounded me, certainly. I’ll even admit I harbor a not-inconsequential amount of jealousy over that andyour uncanny ability to best me at virtually everything you set your mind to do.
“But I will not have it said, by you or anyone else, that Ihateyou. Not when you are the one man, other than our father, I most admire in the world. The one I can—could—always count on to take up my cause as his own. Did you think I did not notice when you tried to dim your own accomplishments when we were boys so that father would notice mine? Or that you took the blame for things I did so that father would not fault me?”
Gideon shifted on his feet, uncertainty clouding his previous judgment. “You were a mere boy—”
“Youwere a mere boy,” Grayson cut in. “One facing constant censure by my mother, I might add. I should have stood for you the way you always did for me, but my jealousy would not allow it, and for that I am profoundly sorry. But I will not apologize for this.” He wagged the letter in the air. “I would not try to hurt your Gwen, especially as she somehow appeared to magically give me back my brother. Now tell me, why do you accuse me of this?”
Gideon searched Grayson’s face for any sign of duplicity, and could find no trace. “Because I’ve just come from the home of the man behind all of the trouble aimed at Gwen. Initially, it seems, the stipulations in the purchase agreementdidexist to protect the publishing house’s reputation.
“Then, I returned from the dead—at which time, he claims, you began issuing demands for him to make Gwen’s purchase untenable.”
“Me?” he demanded with affront. “I did no such thing and I’ll call out anyone who claims otherwise. Tell me, did you simply take this man’s word? Or do I merit any sort of trust?”
Gideon glared at Grayson, but a tiny flicker of hope sparked inside him that somehow his brother had not plotted against the woman he—His mind went blank. The woman hewhat?
“Gideon? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost. Perhaps we oughtto sit down.”
“I’m fine,” he snarled, and fixed his brother with a hard stared. “He showed me your seal, Grayson.Your seal.”
