Page 68 of A Scot Is Not Enough

“You will be there . . . won’t you?” Fire caught the sheen in Gideon’s eyes.

“Of course.”

Alexander’s heart swelled from the deepest brotherly bond. He slapped Gideon’s shoulder good-naturedly, and they chuckled. A redolent sound. Brotherly competition drifted away with it. Affection and boyhood scrapes knit them together, more than blood and bone. Their unspoken ties would remain just so until their dying day.

“I am pleased to hear it,” Gideon said. “I did wonder...”

“That was last year. We’ve all moved on.”

“You especially.”

Chests crammed with Alexanders books and clothes with his cricket bat on top punctuated Gideon’s point. He’d left the family home to make his own way in the world, but the pile looked more forlorn than that of a settled gentleman.

Gideon coughed into the ball of his fist. “And you’re not the least bit upset?”

Was he? The fire warmed his legs, bringing memories with it. Had it been a year since he last found Miss Phoebe Kent sharing passionate kisses by a fireplace with his brother? Yes, it had. A very busy year in which he buried himself in his work for the duke and forgot the woman he once had atendrefor. How easy it was to forgive and forget.

“Phoebe will always be dear to me,” Alexander said. “But I meant it. Iamhappy for you.”

“Thank you. The banns have been read... I can scarce believe I will soon be a married man.”

“It will be good to see the family again.”

“Yes, Mother especially misses you.”

Alexander stared into the cheery fire. He missed his family. The dinners and jovial debates. The quick-witted Miss MacDonald would enjoy them too. A pang bloomed in his chest at the tender picture of her joining the Sloane family dinner table.

“Well, I must be off,” Gideon said. “Phoebe’s expecting me.”

“Never leave a beautiful woman waiting.”

Gideon winked and checked the bedchamber door. “Agreed.”

“Let me see you out.”

They crossed the room, late-day sun streaming through the window. Gideon retrieved his hat and turned it over, twice.

“Is it too much to hope that you’ll reconsider the working arrangement we once enjoyed?” Gideon asked.

“The family business. The other reason for your visit, I collect.”

“Our custom dropped after you left.”

“And Father wants me to return to the fold.”

“He doesn’t know that I’m asking.” Gideon fussed with his hat. As the prideful eldest son, the admission cost him dearly.

Theirs had been a neat legal arrangement. Father and eldest son, gentlemen solicitors, and the youngest son, a cunning barrister for criminal cases. Anyone in legal trouble paid a solicitor a princely sum to find a barrister to take their case. As the legal hierarchy went, solicitors were considered gentlemen, while barristers were tainted by the unsavory task of defending the accused. Dirty business, but Alexander did it.

“Thank you, but no. I’ll stick to my plans.”

“Baron of the Exchequer. You’re aiming high,” Gideon said not unkindly.

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming, brother,” he said dryly.

“We all know you’re the brilliant one, but be reasonable. I’ll be king of England before you get your letters patent.”

Alexander stood rigid as a duke’s man. “You have your path, and I have mine.”