Page 32 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)

He parted company with Lady Farleigh as swiftly as possible. Their conversation had left a bad taste in his mouth that even one of the excellent bonbons Greene had prepared as light refreshments for the evening’s guests couldn’t remove from his mouth.

Someone raised the suggestion of an impromptu dance once the chairs were moved away, and in no time, one of the neighbors who was regarded as an excellent musician was seated at the piano, playing music appropriate for a country dance.

Several couples formed, including Lady Eudora and Pettigrew, who was not fast enough to get away from her.

Charlie kept to the side of the room, observing everything, though his desire to become a part of it had been thoroughly dampened by Lady Farleigh.

At one point Gray met his eyes again and started toward him, but with the advice to keep his distance from him, and the reasons why, Charlie moved to intercept Miss Kennedy and Lady Sandridge to engage in conversation with them.

“Whoever suggested dancing was inspired,” Miss Kennedy said, shifting to bring Charlie into the small circle. “While I have enjoyed everything Hawthorne House has had to offer thus far, there has been a shocking lack of coupling at this party.”

Charlie nearly choked on his own tongue. For his part, he and Gray had been engaged in quite a bit of coupling, but that could not be what the older spinster meant.

“Perhaps the addition of these neighbors will encourage more interaction between the ladies and gentlemen,” Lady Sandridge agreed. “Although my Eudora has already made her mind up about her future happiness.”

“And has Dr. Pettigrew agreed to this happiness?” Charlie asked, knowing the answer before asking the question.

“Oh, he will,” Lady Sandridge said, a sly look coming over her.

“He will if he knows what is good for him.” She nodded to Miss Kennedy and said, “The man may be a doctor, but he has recently inherited a small fortune and quite a bit of property with it. He will need someone to manage it all, and my Eudora has been educated for just such a thing.”

Charlie fought not to wince at the women’s machinations. He glanced across the room to where Pettigrew was moving through the steps of the dance with the young conniver in question. He did not look happy at all.

Everything would have been so much easier if the world could simply let men who fancied other men pursue what they wanted.

He sought out Gray again and found him dancing with one of the neighbors’ daughters.

The world would be a much happier place if he could dance with Gray in a public setting instead of having to hide most of their interactions and the way they felt about each other.

He would not have needed to fear a better man coming along and snatching Gray out from under him if he could publicly declare his feelings.

At least the house party guests seemed to be enjoying themselves for once.

But that all changed when word began to spread throughout the conservatory that a storm was blowing in.

The neighbors rushed back to their carriages, and although the house party guests remained downstairs for a while longer, the excitement of new company had gone, and most of them made their way up to their beds for the night.

“I must rush to my cottage sanctuary while I still can,” Barbara told Charlie as they left the conservatory for the hall. “If I run, I know I can beat the rain.”

“You still wish to maintain your separate residence instead of reconciling with Robert?” Charlie asked.

Indeed, Robert had been gazing longingly across the room at his wife all evening.

Charlie did not know the man well, but he sensed Robert was ready to let bygones be bygones so that he might repair things with Barbara.

“I rather like my garden paradise,” Barbara said with a tired smile.

She glanced over her shoulder at Robert, who was just coming out of the conservatory with Bradford, the two of them deep in discussion, then grinned at Charlie.

“I think one more night of allowing him to stew will be just the thing.”

Charlie grinned and shook his head. “Minx,” he said, then kissed his sister’s cheek.

They parted ways in the front hall, and Charlie continued up to the first floor, veering toward the family wing.

He hoped that Barbara truly was serious about ending her rift with Robert on the morrow.

After their conversation earlier, he believed she had come to a new understanding of her own feelings, as he had of his, but there was no telling with Barbara.

Barbara was not his primary concern as he continued down the hall, however.

Charlie had been so involved in conversation that he had not seen whether Gray had preceded him upstairs or whether he was still downstairs, talking to the last of the guests.

They had been parted for the entire day, and after the awkwardness that had risen up between them because of Bradford’s appearance, Charlie feared they were not on the best of terms. One way or another, they needed to talk.

He had nearly reached his room when he realized he was not alone in the hallway. When he turned to see who else was there, he was alarmed to find Bradford striding toward him. Pulse kicking up, he turned to the man and asked, “Can I help you?”

Bradford met his question with a sly grin. “I was hoping you might know which of these rooms belongs to Mr. Hawthorne.”

Whatever reluctant attraction Charlie had to the man was instantly dampened. He could not help but answer with, “Considering that this is his family home, they all belong to him.”

Bradford laughed, and damn him, the sound was like warm treacle. “Come now,” he said, moving to stand closer to Charlie than he should have. “I think we both understand the heart of my question.”

“Do we?” Charlie asked, wishing he could be colder with the man.

Bradford’s smile was intoxicating, and the way he swept Charlie’s form with a hungry look was as blatant as if he’d spoken an invitation. “I am renowned for being observant,” he said. “And I observed the way you look at Grayson, and at me.”

Charlie swallowed hard. “I do not know what you mean.”

“You do,” Bradford said. “I cannot blame you for your interest in Grayson. He is exquisite in so many ways and so open to his desires. I have never, ever been disappointed by him.”

Charlie’s mouth opened, but for the second time in one evening, he had no idea what to say.

“Perhaps we could go find him together,” Bradford suggested. “I know for a fact he would be open to the idea. Very open.”

Had he thought Bradford was attractive? Not at all! The man was the very devil.

“I cannot know what you mean,” Charlie said, his voice hoarse. But not with desire. At least, he told himself it was not with desire. Or curiosity. Not that either. He cleared his throat, grasped the handle of his bedroom door, and said a curt, “Good evening, sir,” before retreating into his room.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he hissed out a breath and clamped a hand around the bulge in his trousers in an effort to calm his reaction.

If that was the sort of life and love Gray was used to these days, then perhaps things were hopeless after all.

He could never be that free with his affections.

He could never be what Grayson truly wanted.

Given the other rumors that were apparently swirling around Gray, perhaps he had been right all along to pack everything he felt for Gray aside and to keep it firmly in the past.

“Bollocks,” Charlie cursed, turning back toward his door.

He did not want to give Grayson up again.

He did not want to blunder through any of the mess he currently found himself in.

But he would never find a solution to the frustrations that raged within him if he kept retreating every time he had to face something difficult.

He put his hand on the door handle, pressed his ear to the door in an attempt to hear whether Bradford was still in the hallway, and when he was certain the aggravatingly exciting man was gone, he threw open his door, stepped into the empty hallway, and strode across to let himself into Grayson’s room.