Page 29 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)

Fourteen

H oward Bradford. Gray had a string of past lovers that could have stretched across the English Channel, but of all the men who could show up at Hawthorne House with his enticing smile and a glint in his eye, it had to be Howard Bradford.

Howard was ten years older than Gray and had ten times as much experience.

They’d met in Florence, when Gray had been feeling particularly melancholy and missing Charlie.

Howard had noticed him in several ways and had provided Gray with everything he’d needed.

He’d been a distraction and a mentor, a friend and the most exciting lover, aside from Charlie, that he’d ever had.

The things Grayson had done for and with Howard would have had even the most salacious member of The Brotherhood blushing, and now here the man was, walking a few steps ahead of him between Robert and Charlie on the garden path.

He spoke easily about everything from geology to locomotion, striding across the hills of Hawthorne House as if he owned the estate and the title, not Robert.

And he had both Robert and Charlie gazing at him as they walked as if he were far more beautiful than any charming vista or carefully planted garden bed in all of England.

Because he was.

Anyone with a lick of sense could see that Howard Bradford was a man among men, and he was right there, at Hawthorne House, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder at Gray as if he had every intention of picking up their past acquaintance from the exact place where they’d left it.

And, of course, the place where they’d left it was with Gray spread like a frog on his back and panting as Howard drew out of him, kissed his belly, lapping up some of Gray’s fresh spend, then his lips, then glibly said he had a ship back to London to catch and that he hoped they would meet again someday.

He’d pulled up his trousers, winked at Gray, and walked away, leaving him stunned and satisfied.

That had been ten months before.

“As you can see,” Howard said, gesturing across the verdant landscape of the Hawthorne House estate, “the path that the railway might cut across your land would create very little disturbance to your fields and tenants. There are no plans at present to build it across any land currently occupied by structures.”

“Yes, it does seem as though the suggested route your company plans to take would hardly influence the usual workings of Hawthorne House at all,” Robert said, following the line of Howard’s gesture to take in the sight of all he owned.

“And as you might imagine, Lord Broxbourne,” Howard went on, “should you decide to invest a portion of your considerable fortune in South Eastern Railway, you would see dividends beyond anything you could imagine.”

“It does appear that way,” Charlie mumbled, studying Howard more than the land.

Gray bit his lip, heart racing as he frantically attempted to puzzle out what he should do.

Charlie knew how careless he’d been with his affections in the last seven years, though Gray suddenly doubted the wisdom of sharing himself around so liberally in the hope that word of his conquests would make its way back to Charlie to punish him.

That punishment was making its way back to Charlie now, and Gray could not have regretted it more.

It would have been better if the ghost from Gray’s past that had come to call had been someone inconsequential or hopelessly foreign.

The fact that it was Howard, in all his confident, commanding glory, existing in the world as though it had been ordered especially for him, and the fact that Gray was still very much susceptible to the older man’s charms, made it infinitely awkward.

“And what do you think of this railroad business, Mr. Hawthorne?” Howard turned around and asked in the middle of Gray’s increasingly panicked thoughts. “You have as much of a stake in any business dealings of Hawthorne House, I would imagine, as any son of the family.”

The man’s question was simple enough, but the way he asked it and the expression flashing in his eyes asked, “Would you care to drop your trousers and bend over that fallen tree just there so that I might bugger you into a deeper understanding of the pleasures of the celestial spheres?”

“The decision is Robert’s and Robert’s alone,” Gray said shuffling like a schoolboy called before the headmaster to account for why he’d been caught diddling with another boy behind the shed in the schoolyard.

“I am but the indigent second son in the family whose purpose is to do little more than look presentable and entertain our guests.”

He laughed nervously, feeling as if his collar and trousers had grown too tight. What a ridiculous and embarrassing thing to say!

But Howard merely replied, “You fulfill your position admirably,” with a sly arch of one eyebrow.

Gray wasn’t certain whether he wanted to sink into the ground or to drop to his knees and do whatever he could to please the man.

Worse still, Charlie noticed everything.

“If you will excuse me,” Charlie said in a tight voice that Gray guessed he was trying to keep from sounding peevish. “I must return to the house to see how my sister is getting on. She has been out of sorts these last few days and has found it a struggle to fulfill her duties as hostess.”

“Ah,” Howard said, nodding in understanding. “She is a newlywed?”

“It is not that,” Robert answered, some of the frustration he’d been boiling himself in for the last few days showing through his attempts to impress. “I believe she has found it more challenging to take the helm of a country house party.”

“I see,” Howard said, as gracious as ever. “When we have finished our business, we must endeavor to do what we can to assist her in her entertainments.”

Charlie made a sound that Gray took to be annoyance. If his interpretation of the pinched expression Charlie wore was anything to go by, it was annoyance that Howard was proving to be so amenable and helpful.

Gray knew the feeling. There would have been no trouble at all if Howard had been anyone other than…Howard.

“If you will excuse me,” Charlie said with a bow, shaking Gray out of his contemplations of the wrong man yet again, before turning to go.

All three of them watched him walk away for a moment before Howard turned to Robert with a smile and said, “I rather like Lord Broxbourne. He seems like a sensible fellow with an eye toward the future.”

“He is, he is,” Robert assured him, as if he, too were captivated by Howard, even though Gray was certain his brother’s inclinations rested exclusively with women. “I am as happy to have Lord Broxbourne as a member of my extended family as I am to have married his sister.”

“I am eager to meet Lady Felcourt,” Howard said as the three of them continued along the path. “She seems like an intriguing woman. Is my assessment correct, Mr. Hawthorne?”

Gray was forced to pick up his pace so that he could walk by Howard’s side as they continued down the path as it wound toward a small stream. “Er, yes, she is quite lovely,” Gray answered him. “You will find her quite lively and amicable.”

“I am certain I will,” Howard said. “Any person who you recommend to me, I am certain I will adore.”

The statement was meant for him and not Barbara, Gray was certain of it.

And on any other day, during any other summer, he would have lapped up the attention Howard showed him.

“Do you know,” Gray said a mere five minutes later, as they rounded a bend and Howard attempted to walk close enough to him that he might take Gray’s hand, “I should be returning to the house as well. I promised Miss Martin and her chaperone that I would organize another round of archery for the guests if the day proved sunny enough for it.”

“Did you?” Robert asked, frowning slightly. “I do not remember.”

“Is there something I can help with?” Howard asked.

The question was most definitely one that asked whether he had said or done something wrong and if he needed to make amends. Damn Howard for being so caring and considerate. He’d always been the epitome of care and concern when he had Gray bent double over and panting with?—

No. No, he could not allow his memories to wander down those not-so-old paths when he felt that Charlie was licking his wounds somewhere nearby. He wanted Charlie, not Howard. He always had.

“We will speak later,” he told Howard, then turned and hurried off before the intoxicating man could draw him back into his sphere.

He muttered to himself the entire way back to the house, lambasting himself for being so susceptible to Howard’s charms. A rock would not be able to resist the man, but that was beside the point.

He had only just repaired things with Charlie.

Their new bond was as tender as a sapling, and he had no wish to do anything to damage it.

Although if Howard asked for both of them to accompany him in a game of hide the sausage?—

“Good God, man!” he snapped at himself as he neared the house, startling a maid, who was tidying up what appeared to be a few refreshments that some of the guests had taken outside at an earlier time. “Sorry,” he apologized to her, then darted into the house.

The weather was pleasant enough that most of the guests were likely outside. So Gray was surprised when he encountered Lady Patience and Miss Kennedy in the conservatory that he entered the house through. More alarmingly, Lady Patience was in tears as Miss Kennedy scolded her for some reason.

“…will not have behavior like this,” Miss Kennedy was saying, a deep frown on her face. “It is unseemly, and—oh! Mr. Hawthorne. I did not see you there.”

“Miss Kennedy, Lady Patience,” Gray said, approaching the two women with a mad mixture of dread about what might have the two women in such a state and gratitude that he could have something besides the conundrum of Howard and Charlie to worry about. “Can I be of some assistance?”