Page 25 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)
Twelve
H e had to move. Standing still would only lead Gray to think about the things his heart was telling him. He was desperately afraid that if he stopped to listen for too long, he would do something his head would never forgive him for.
“I know just the thing,” he told Charlie over his shoulder as he walked swiftly down the hall, peeking into the various parlors and rooms they passed in search of Robert or Barbara. “I am certain it will draw Robert out of his gloom, and Barbara might very well enjoy it as well.”
And his plan would give him enough to keep him occupied that he would not have to examine his tender thoughts too deeply.
“What is it?” Charlie asked, catching up as Gray stopped in the door to the library, gazing in to see if Robert was there with the other gentlemen, who sat in a group in the far corner of the room.
Robert was not in the library, and although Pettigrew glanced up, smiled, and gestured for Gray and Charlie to join his group, Gray shook his head in return, smiled, and continued on.
“There is a certain puppet theater in the attic,” he said, looking at Charlie, who now walked by his side.
“We used to play with it when we were children. The youngest Hawthornes have only just outgrown it. Mama had it packed away after Neville left the nursery to be bundled off to Eton. I am certain Robert knows where it is.”
“We could send Robert and Barbara to the attic to retrieve it,” Charlie said, smiling as he grasped the plan.
“The same as Barbara sent us after the targets,” Gray said. He even winked at Charlie before remembering that he hated the bastard for leaving him and was not meant to be opening the gates of pain all over again.
It was one thing to conceive of the idea but another entirely to locate both Barbara and Robert, and to bring them out of their respective activities and into the same room.
Robert had retreated to his study, using the excuse of handling household accounts to dismiss himself from the day’s social activities, but Barbara was holding court in the conservatory, where she and most of the other ladies were arranging flowers.
“Barbara, might I speak with you for a moment?” Charlie asked as genially as possible as he and Gray approached the table where the ladies worked.
“You may always speak with me,” Barbara said, glancing at Charlie only briefly before picking up a long-stemmed, peach rose and jabbing it into the already overfilled vase of flowers in front of her.
“In private,” Charlie asked, still maintaining a sweet and innocent tone.
Barbara glanced suspiciously up at him, one eyebrow arched. “There is nothing you could say to me that could not be heard by my friends,” she said.
Lady Winifred sent Gray an alarmed look that doubled as an awkward cry for help.
Miss Martin looked more than a bit uncomfortable as well.
Even Lady Suzanne, who was doing a remarkably fine job of arranging her flowers, seemed tense.
Gray did his best to reassure them with a glance, but it was alarming to discover that the entire house party was aware something was very much wrong.
“Please, dearest,” Charlie said, stooping to sentimental tones to gain his sister’s attention.
Barbara let out a breath and lowered her shoulders, sending Charlie a weary look. “Very well,” she said, standing and snatching up her shawl from the back of her chair. “But I am loath to be parted from my guests for long. We are enjoying ourselves so thoroughly.”
Once Barbara’s back was turned, Lady Winifred stared at Gray with widened eyes and shook her head.
It was all Gray could do not to laugh, though there was nothing amusing about the situation. His mirth must have shone through, because Lady Winifred’s cheeks went pink and she fought to hide a smile. At least the party guests could enjoy themselves in some way.
“Where are you taking me?” Barbara asked once they’d left the conservatory. “I hope the two of you are not attempting to maneuver me into some sort of reconciliation with my husband.”
Gray and Charlie exchanged a look behind Barbara’s back as they walked with her between them. Gray began to question whether their ploy would succeed.
He was almost certain it would not once they walked Barbara into Robert’s study.
“Come to apologize?” Robert asked as soon as he glanced up from his books.
Gray could have slapped the man for making things worse.
“I’ve no wish to be here,” Barbara said, immediately turning around as soon as she stepped into the room.
Charlie shifted to block her before she could get away.
“Now, now, Barb,” he said, grasping her arms and turning her so that she faced Robert.
He walked her deeper into the room, though Barbara looked downright rebellious, and said, “Gray and I have had an idea for tonight’s entertainment, but we need the two of you to assist in making it possible. ”
“What entertainment is this?” Robert asked, his expression suspicious.
“I had the thought that our guests would enjoy a puppet show,” Gray said more enthusiastically than he felt. “Our family has enjoyed them so much over the years, and I thought now would be the time to introduce Barbara to the Hawthorne family tradition.”
The suggestion was met by a tense silence.
“And?” Robert asked at last.
“And nothing,” Gray said. “I simply thought we would all enjoy the activity.”
Dread began to pool in his stomach when neither Robert nor Barbara said a word. Both looked coldly rebellious as well.
“I am not a child,” Barbara said. “I do not appreciate the suggestion that I might enjoy a puppet show.”
“No, no, you misunderstand,” Charlie said with a false laugh. “We thought you and the other ladies might perform the puppet show for the gentlemen.”
“Or vice versa,” Gray added.
Robert and Barbara were still clearly not convinced.
“But it does mean that we would need you to fetch the puppets and their theater from the attic,” Gray went on.
For the very briefest moment, as Robert and Barbara exchanged flat looks, Gray thought that a reconciliation might be on the horizon.
The lovebirds might not have been pleased with each other, but they both seemed set against himself and Charlie.
Barbara went so far as to cross her arms and huff out through her nose at her brother.
Except instead of relenting, she said, “Charlie.”
The single word held an ocean’s worth of derision.
“Yes, dearest?” Charlie asked, all innocence and pink cheeks.
“Have you no original thoughts in your head?” Barbara asked.
“Whatever do you mean?” Charlie continued, his innocence becoming painfully comical.
“You cannot be so ham-fisted that you would attempt to catch Robert and I in the same net that snared you and Grayson last week,” Barbara said.
Gray winced. His sister-in-law had seen through their ploy far faster than he would have expected.
Or perhaps not. It was a blatantly transparent plan.
“You can fetch the puppets if you’d like,” Robert said in a long-suffering voice, picking up his pen and concentrating on his ledgers once more, “but I wish nothing to do with it.”
“And I will not clamor around in a dusty attic simply to retrieve a puppet theater I have never seen before and have no wish to see now,” Barbara said.
“You would enjoy yourself,” Gray insisted. “Believe me.”
Barbara stared right at him and said, “I do not think I can believe a single word you say.”
She then turned sharply and marched out of the room, her chin held high.
Gray glanced to Charlie, seeing his own exasperation with their siblings reflected there.
“Go fetch the puppet theater, if you’d like,” Robert sighed, still focused on his ledgers. “I daresay it would be an amenable activity for the ladies one way or another, considering the weather does not appear to be improving.”
“Are you certain you will not go to fetch it along with Barbara?” Gray asked, giving his dying plan one last poke.
Robert glanced right up at him and said a sour, “No.”
Gray pinched his eyes shut for a moment and huffed. With every second that passed, he was certain he’d been trapped in a nightmare. “Very well then,” he said, opening his eyes. He glanced to Charlie, jerked his head toward the hall, and said, “Come along, then.”
They reached the small staircase at the end of the hall leading up to the attic before Charlie muttered, “Oh to be an only child!”
Gray snorted a humorless laugh before he could stop himself. “It would certainly make life less agonizing,” he said as he started up the stairs. Fortunately, he knew which of Hawthorne House’s numerous attics the puppet theater had been put away in.
“If I was not witnessing the behavior of those two for myself, I would not have believed it to be as unforgivable as it is,” Charlie continued as they turned a corner at the top of the stairs and walked through a narrow corridor that contained doors to some of the servants’ rooms.
The attic which housed a large amount of the family’s juvenilia stood at the far end of the hall. The space had very few windows, so Gray ducked into the bedroom right before it to borrow a lantern so that he and Charlie would not be completely lost in the space.
“I am half convinced that we should recall Nanny Lucinda from her retirement so that she might take both of them to task for behaving like children,” Gray said as they entered the stuffy attic.
“What could possibly be possessing them that would cause them to embarrass themselves this way?” Charlie asked, looking around the dim attic with a frown.
“My wager is that it all comes down to the issue of children,” Gray said, setting the lantern on an old bureau, then pushing a box of what appeared to be Christmas paraphernalia aside so that he could reach the puppet theater, which stood off to one side, leaning against the wall.
“Agreed,” Charlie said, following after Gray and helping to move boxes.
“Either way, Barbara could do with a damn good spanking right about now.”