Page 4 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)

“Their ambition is admirable,” Charlie laughed, feeling it safe to do so now, as Barbara likely wouldn’t think he was laughing at her. “Who else have you gathered up to enjoy the delights of Hawthorne House at your very first grown-up entertainment?”

Barbara huffed a bit and sent him a scolding glance. “You must take me seriously now, brother. The reputation of the Hawthorne family rests upon my shoulders, as does the continuation of—” She stopped again and lost a bit of her spark.

A moment later, she shook her head and rushed on.

“I’ve invited Dr. Pettigrew, of course, since you wrote to me that he is good company.”

Charlie flushed a bit. In fact, he hoped Pettigrew would provide a buffer between him and Grayson, if things turned contentious.

“And Robert insisted I invite Lord Matthew Iverson, Mr. Cornelius Lindhurst, and Mr. William Gunnerson, all of whom, he says, are hoping to marry within the next year,” she continued, counting the names off on her fingers.

“And the ladies?” Charlie asked, turning his head suddenly as someone entered from a side hall in case it was Gray. It turned out to be one of the servants, and he fought not to feel disappointed or sheepish as he gave his sister his attention once more.

“There is Lady Winifred Margate,” Barbara said, “whom I simply adored at school, even though she was two years above me. And within the next few days, Miss Abigale Martin will be arriving with her chaperone, and Lady Patience Warwick is coming with her spinster aunt, Miss Kennedy, who might also be hopeful for a suitor, though it would have to be an older gentleman from the village or from Maidstone, since I have not invited anyone older than thirty.”

“I am quite certain you will have gained yourself a reputation as a matchmaker in no time, my dear,” Charlie said, sliding an arm around his sister’s back and pulling her close so that he could peck her cheek.

He was startled to alertness once more as another figure emerged from the hall on the other side of the staircase. It wasn’t Gray, but Charlie’s disappointment was short-lived as Pettigrew broke into a smile at the sight of him.

“Lord Broxbourne.” Pettigrew extended a hand as he approached Charlie.

“Pettigrew,” Charlie greeted his friend heartily.

As always when two members of The Brotherhood greeted each other outside of The Chameleon Club or other safe areas, they pretended cordial yet formal acquaintance.

In fact, Charlie had swapped stories of nighttime conquests with Elias during any number of drunken evenings of laughter at the club, though the two of them had never indulged in each other that way. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you, my friend,” Pettigrew said, then stepped back to include Barbara in their conversation.

“You never told me you had such a sweet and charming sister,” he said, excelling at exactly the right sort of polite conversation that the occasion required.

“If I had known, I might have given Lord Felcourt competition in securing her hand.”

Charlie laughed, beyond grateful to have an ally for whatever might come in the following month.

“You would not have stood a chance, I’m afraid, Dr. Pettigrew,” Barbara said, all smiles and blushes, like the bride she was.

“From the moment I met him at Cambridge whilst visiting my brother these many years ago, there has been no one for me but Lord Felcourt. Of course, I was a mere girl when we first met, but I fancied myself quite grown up when a man of such age and character agreed to correspond with me.”

“Is that so?” Pettigrew asked, sending Charlie a look as if to ask whether there had been any impropriety all those years ago.

“It is, but I can assure you, there was nothing but friendship between us for the first five years of our acquaintance at least,” Barbara answered before Charlie could. “In fact, I barely dared to dream that Lord Felcourt could ever think of me that way.”

“I see?” Pettigrew said, once again glancing to Charlie for answers.

“It was only after the late Lord Felcourt passed and I penned a letter of heartfelt condolence to Robert, that is, the current Lord Felcourt, that our correspondence turned into more,” Barbara said.

“Robert says that I showed him more feeling than anyone else, and that our letters, which became quite frequent, were the greatest source of comfort and joy to him. We must have kept the postmen of southern England exceptionally busy with our almost daily correspondence for many months, but still, you must imagine my surprise when Robert, that is, Lord Felcourt, arrived on my doorstep at Downham Manor to ask Charlie for my hand.”

Charlie remembered the moment well. He remembered his surprise and his dread at Gray’s brother’s arrival and the revelation that he and Barbara were far better acquainted than he could ever have dreamed.

He’d questioned Robert about the attachment for a good three hours, putting the man through his paces and doing everything he could to dissuade Robert from making a hasty and ill-thought-out connection.

But in the end, Robert had convinced him of his genuine affection for Barbara, and there was no denying that his sister would be well-looked after by the entire Hawthorne family nor that she would shine once she grew into the role of Countess of Felcourt.

The key factor determining Charlie’s eventual agreement to the marriage was Barbara’s sincere love for Robert, not to mention a bit of pleading for her happiness on her part.

How could he deny his sister whatever her heart desired?

“I was delighted when Charlie agreed to the marriage for so many reasons,” Barbara continued.

“Not least of which was the hope that my and Robert’s connection would bring Charlie and Robert’s brother Grayson back into accord with one another.

They were such great friends all those years ago, you know, but they had some sort of falling out. ”

The bottom dropped out of Charlie’s stomach.

So much so that he subtly let go of his sister’s arm.

Barbara knew that he and Gray had been close once, to be sure, but he had been unaware that she had any design in renewing their acquaintance.

He desperately hoped that she did not fully understand the nature of their friendship, but for better or for worse, Barbara had discovered his nature years ago.

Fortunately, she accepted him as he was without reservation.

“Has Mr. Hawthorne returned from the Continent?” Pettigrew asked subtly, sending Charlie a gently teasing look. Pettigrew, of course, knew all.

“He returned for the wedding in December and chose not to resume his travels,” Barbara said, completely innocent of the undercurrent. “Though I think I remember him mentioning something about setting off again someday soon.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow and his pulse sped up. Gray was thinking of leaving England again?

Any question he could have asked on that score was forgotten as a rather bouncy young woman with her blonde hair in fashionable ringlets around her face rushed into the room through the front door, a serious, matronly woman with sharp eyes following behind her.

“Oh! Dr. Pettigrew, there you are!” the young woman burst breathlessly at the sight of Pettigrew. “I told Mama you were inside and you see, Mama? I was right.”

“Lord save me,” Pettigrew murmured at Charlie’s side. He glanced around as if for escape, but it was too late. “Lady Eudora,” he said with a forced smile. “Can I offer you some sort of assistance?”

“Yes!” Lady Eudora burst. “I seem to have twisted my ankle while out walking near the forge with Mama. I was so hoping you could take a look at it to ascertain if I shall ever walk again.”

For his friend’s sake, Charlie fought not to laugh. Lady Eudora was no more lame than he was, but asking a physician to look at her ankle was as clever a marriage trap as Charlie could think of.

“Who have we here?” Lady Sandridge asked, eyeing Charlie up and down.

Before Barbara could make the introduction, Charlie looked the woman directly in the eye and said, “No.”

Fortunately for them both, the husband-hunting mama understood at once and nodded as Barbara took Charlie’s arm and said, “Allow me to introduce you to the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful brother a lady could ever have, my brother, Lord Charles Aspenden, Viscount Broxbourne.”

“Pity,” Lady Sandridge sighed, then curtsied to Charlie. “Lord Broxbourne,” she said.

“This is my dear friend, Lady Eudora Sandridge, and her mother, Lady Sandridge,” Barbara made the introduction with all the formality she likely thought a countess should possess.

“Lady Sandridge, Lady Eudora,” Charlie bowed to them politely.

“Lord Broxbourne.” Lady Eudora took a moment to bow with painful, studied formality to Charlie before returning her attention to Pettigrew. “I would so adore your attention,” she said, then stammered as she continued with, “for my ankle.”

“It appears to be sound to me,” Pettigrew said, taking a subtle step back from the young woman.

“Oh, but you must examine it,” Lady Eudora insisted.

“Perhaps after luncheon, if you are still in distress,” Pettigrew said.

“Distress?” Lady Eudora blinked as if she’d never heard of the concept.

Charlie would have roared with laughter and concocted some way to come to his friend’s defense, but at that moment, Gray appeared at the top of the stairs.

The world held its breath as their eyes instantly met.

Charlie’s heart felt caught in a vise for a moment at the sight of his former beloved.

Age had treated Grayson well. He no longer had the green look of boyhood about him, but he maintained a youthful appearance.

His dark hair was as impossibly tousled as ever, and even across the distance, his blue eyes shone.

His mouth was every bit as sinful as it had always been, but he’d gained a stronger form.

He was still lithe and graceful as he descended the stairs.

Charlie instantly recalled everything his glorious body could do, how it tasted, the scent of his sweat.

He even recalled the sweet sighs of pleasure and the harsher grunts of some of their more athletic pursuits.

All of it threatened to enliven him to the point of making it obvious to anyone who might lower their eyes below his waist to just how he felt about Gray all these years later.

And then came the sneer that snapped Charlie out of his amorous thoughts.

He focused on Gray’s face again to find it contorted in such hatred that it turned Charlie’s rushing blood to ice.

Those lovely eyes were filled with malice, and the flush of color that painted Gray’s face was blotchy and angry.

Grayson’s easy grace turned instantly to sharp, jerking movements as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Gray met Charlie’s eyes with fire, intensity, and loathing, then turned abruptly aside and continued on down a side hall without so much as a backward glance or a nod for Barbara or the other ladies.

Charlie knew what extreme malice looked like when he saw it.

And he didn’t half think he deserved it.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, his voice suddenly gruff. “I need to see to the unloading and unpacking of my things, since my valet will not be arriving for a few days still.”

“Oh, is Olivier ill?” Barbara asked, full of concern for the middle-aged man who had not only served as Charlie’s valet since he came of age, but who had been something of a father figure to both of them.

“No, no, not to worry,” Charlie said, kissing his sister’s cheek once more. “I gave him leave to visit his sister and her family for a time before coming here.”

Barbara beamed at him. “Did I not tell you that my brother is the finest man alive?” she asked Lady Eudora, Lady Sandridge, and Pettigrew.

Of course, then she had to go and add, “I am determined to ensure that his personal happiness becomes equal to my own by binding up old wounds in the next few weeks.”

Charlie sighed, “Please don’t,” he whispered in Barbara’s ear before stepping away from her.

Whether Barbara intended to make any reply, she was stopped as Lady Sandridge addressed Pettigrew with, “Good sir, if you could but see to my daughter’s needs, all will be well.”

Pettigrew sent Charlie a last look of desperation, but Charlie was unable to answer the call.

He started off for the door, intending to oversee the footmen in unloading the last of his things from the carriage.

After that, he would retreat to whatever room Barbara had assigned to him to unpack.

With any luck, he would be able to hide away there and avoid Gray’s malice before any wars were started.