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Chapter Twelve

L ate the next morning, on a rare polo-free day, and in his workshop, Jed stroked sandpaper over the leg of a coffee table, then cursed when he saw the scratches the sandpaper left in the soft olive wood.

He was in a mood and thought it safer for the world to hide out in his shop.

Yesterday had been a shitty day. His team had lost their matches, and it’d been mostly his fault.

It was only the second round of the tournament– they’d won the first– but he’d made their path to the finals much harder than it needed to be.

The reason for his lack of concentration?

Shit, it was embarrassing to admit it, but Henry’s interaction with Eden, him acting with familiarity and affection, had put him off his game.

He’d never experienced that weird, toxic mixture of jealousy and fury before and didn’t know how to handle it.

‘Eden is off limits, and if you so much as look at her, I’ll end you.’

For a reasonably evolved guy, he’d acted like a Neanderthal. Henry, the cool bastard, just smiled at his threat. Because he felt like a fool, or a jealous kid– he wasn’t sure which one was worse– he’d changed the subject.

‘I heard you’re thinking about selling the Duke’s polo ponies.’ Like Troyden, the Duke had been a polo nut, and while his team wasn’t as skilled or ranked as the Castle Kings, today’s poor performance notwithstanding, Henry had inherited a decent stable.

‘Not thinking about it. I’m selling them.’

‘Why?’ Was he mad? Why would he want to do that?

‘I need the money, Jed. And the stable is an expense I can’t afford.’

Jed thought it was more likely it was money he didn’t want to spend.

The man wore a Rolex, for God’s sake, and his designer wardrobe must cost thousands.

‘If you sell them now, it’ll take years to build up a stable again.

Don’t you want to carry on the legacy of being a polo patron?

’ Jed reached for a water bottle and cracked open its lid.

‘If I could divorce myself from my name, the Hall and the last five hundred years, I would. In a fucking heartbeat.’

Wow . Jed winced at the vitriol in Henry’s voice.

He’d always imagined he and the Duke riding their lands together, playing cricket on the long stretch of lawn in front of the Hall and the FD leading his legitimate son around the Hall, stopping at the portraits of each ancestor and passing on their family history.

‘Our father was a perfect prick.’

Shocked at the bitterness he heard in Henry’s voice, he’d wanted to walk away, to leave the past where it belonged. But another part of him needed to know. ‘Explain.’

Henry shook his head. ‘Jesus, you’re a bossy asshole,’ he muttered.

‘It’s probably inherited,’ Jed conceded. He didn’t like wasting time with superfluous words or explaining himself.

‘You might be interested to know that he kept pretty close tabs on you.’ Henry explained. ‘He kept a log of everything he heard about you. I found it in a secret drawer when I cleared out his desk. You can look at it if you want.’

He didn’t want to. ‘I have no interest in the Duke or anything he thought or did.’ He cursed himself for engaging.

If you didn’t, if you kept yourself apart, you couldn’t be vulnerable.

Or be hurt. His next sentence to Henry had been, shockingly, more difficult to say than he’d expected. ‘I have no interest in you, either.’

Henry hadn’t looked surprised by his harsh comment.

‘Can I ask you one thing, just to satisfy my curiosity?’ He didn’t wait for Jed’s permission.

‘How can you accept Al and Mick so easily? They aren’t related, or have any genetic ties, to you.

I know I bullied you, but you gave back as good as you got.

But you won’t even consider acknowledging me.

I guess that old Bible saying about sins of the fathers is right, huh? ’

Jed couldn’t answer the question, didn’t want to. Gripping the bridge of his nose, Jed had needed to change the subject, immediately. ‘I’ll take a look at the ponies you are selling. Tomorrow works.’

One side of Henry’s mouth lifted. ‘There’s been a lot of interest in them, and they’ll move quickly.’

Jed didn’t like his smug expression. ‘I said I’ll look at them tomorrow.’

Henry grinned. ‘If you want the chance to buy my horses, you’re going to have to have that beer with me, Jed.’

And with that sally and minor blackmail threat, Henry walked away.

The bastard– metaphorically, as Jed was the real bastard– was persistence personified.

But his question about accepting his non-blood siblings reverberated around Jed’s mind, and he kept returning to it, like an itchy mosquito bite needing to be scratched.

The past, and its memories, were never far away.

He’d never met Al’s mum and he got along okay with Mick’s mum, but Kael’s mum had been Satan’s Bride.

She’d resented him and Mick, loathed their connection to Troyden, and had done everything she could– snide comments, blaming them for anything and everything– to make their lives miserable.

But after the divorce, Jed didn’t cut Kael out of his life.

It just made him want to protect him more, to be the big brother and tuck him under his wing.

Kael, being the free spirit he was, hated having three bossy older siblings and took off overseas to assert his independence.

But the point was, he never blamed Kael for having a witch for a mother.

And, if Jed was being fair, Henry shouldn’t have to pay the price for his father’s sins either.

Yeah, Henry had been a precocious, annoying, entitled shit as a kid, but Jed had also been an arsehole.

Mick and Al would say he still was.

He was judging Henry on the kid he’d been, and on the father he’d been lumbered with, and that wasn’t fair. So what was holding him back from Henry? The Duke was dead, and nobody cared that he’d got a stable girl pregnant so long ago. Nobody gave a damn.

Was he resentful of Henry’s wealth and status?

Was he angry because Jed should be the Duke and not Henry?

Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. The core of it was that he didn’t know the role Henry wanted him to play.

They were the same age, so it wasn’t like Henry needed a big brother, nor did he need a protector.

If you gave credence to that bullshit, and he didn’t, Henry was also higher up the social pole than he.

His half-brother didn’t need him, so what did he want with him? And if he didn’t need him, how could they have a relationship? What could Jed bring to the table?

The door to his workshop opened. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he turned and watched Eden move into the middle of the room, trailing her hands over a piece of wood on his far worktable.

He wasn’t sure how he would use it yet, but thought it resembled the curve of a woman’s back as it dipped in to meet her hips, the swell that followed.

‘Hey,’ he said, standing up, tossing the piece of sandpaper to the side.

‘I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Is it okay for me to be in here?’

His workshop was his bolthole, his private space, but he was surprised to find he didn’t mind her presence. He also appreciated her asking. ‘It’s fine.’ He glanced at his watch. It was after twelve and later than he thought. ‘I thought you would be busy with the charity match stuff.’

‘I was, but I needed a break and decided to walk.’

She was working more closely with Henry than he liked.

But there wasn’t a damn thing he could say about it.

And he had to give it to them, the two of them were producing results.

What had started as a vague idea was now a highly publicised event.

‘You’re doing a fantastic job, by the way. Everyone is impressed.’

She waved his words away. ‘It’s mostly Henry.’

‘It’s mostly you , Eden. He might be the face of the project, but you’re its body and soul.’

Her smile hit her eyes, and her cheeks flushed at his compliment. Unlike the women he usually dated, she had no idea how to deal with praise. ‘Anyway, I saw the door open and peeked inside.’

He always headed into his shop when he needed to decompress.

He stretched, arching his back before resting his butt against the table.

He’d returned late from Cowdray Park yesterday, and after showering, he’d crawled into bed and slept for ten hours.

But he’d missed her, missed waking up to strands of her hair tangled in his stubble, her soft body pressed against his.

‘You disappeared yesterday afternoon,’ he commented. He’d wanted to introduce her to Tara and Vincent but couldn’t find her. Neither did she answer his calls or text messages.

He’d been annoyed at the time, but maybe he was jumping the gun introducing her to the Bancrofts.

Firstly, he and Eden were just sleeping together, their fling having an expiration date, and introducing her to old, important friends was such a couple-y thing to do.

The thought made the back of his neck itch.

Secondly, Troyden was right: Tara and Vince had seemed out of whack yesterday. They’d both been overly bright, a little spacy and pretty shattered. He’d asked if they were okay, and they’d assured him that they were.

He didn’t believe them.

He’d call them later to check up on them. Looking across at Eden, he still wanted to know why she’d vanished yesterday. ‘So why did you leave?’

She looked away, trying to find the answer in his bandsaw. ‘Ah, I was peopled out and needed some peace. Also, I couldn’t stop sneezing.

‘And you guys were losing,’ she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘Yeah, it wasn’t our best day,’ he admitted. ‘I was unfocused and missed a couple of shots at goal. That’s not something I normally do.’

Eden walked around his bandsaw to boost herself up onto his worktable. ‘It was a strange afternoon.’