Page 40 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)
Twenty
G ray returned downstairs in defeat when he did not find Charlie in his bedroom.
It seemed as though no matter what he did at the moment, he made things worse rather than better.
A part of him no longer had the desire to even try to reach for the things he wanted in life.
The only thing he truly wanted was Charlie, and Charlie seemed determined to run away from him at every chance he got.
He huffed ironically and shook his head at that thought as he descended the last stair and turned the corner to head down the hall toward one of the doors that would take him outside, where he might breathe fresh air and perhaps clear his head.
As it happened, though, Robert was just coming out of his study as he made the gesture.
“What is that all about?” his brother asked, stopping short and staring at Gray with a puzzled frown.
Gray no longer had the will to hide anything about his feelings from his brother.
Defeat had robbed him of even the desire to maintain an image of strength.
“All is lost,” he said with what was most likely an overly dramatic shrug.
“Charlie witnessed me conversing with Howard Bradford in the front hall. I am afraid he assumed the worst, as he has been doing for the last few days, and now I cannot find him to explain things.”
If there had been any sort of chair nearby, Gray would have flopped into it and sprawled. Unfortunately, there was no such furnishing nearby, so he was forced to stand lamely where he was, posture slumping.
Robert shifted his weight and crossed his arms, hiding the bottom half of his face behind one hand, like he was laughing at Gray. “The stars have not been in your favor where Charlie is concerned, have they.”
Gray sent his brother a doleful look. “You are laughing at me,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Robert loosened his stance with a short chuckle.
“Everything makes me want to laugh this morning,” he said.
“My wife faced death last night and triumphed. I have her back in my arms with everything that formerly stood between us erased. Love has conquered all for me and Barbara, and I am certain it will be the conquering hero for you and Charlie as well.”
His brother’s words instilled Grayson with a bit of confidence, but not as much as he would have liked. “I do love Charlie,” he admitted, still wanting to sigh but holding it in. “I’ve always loved him, from the very moment we met. But even you must admit there are impediments between us.”
“Nonsense,” Robert said, waving the idea away. “Thousands of men before you have crafted means of making a life together. What about those two chaps from Oxford whose portraits stand facing each other in the chapel, or some building such as that? Or your fellows in The Brotherhood?”
“They did not have Australia standing between them,” Gray replied sulkily.
Robert snorted and shook his head, then stared at Gray as if he were a dolt. “Then do not go to Australia,” he said, emphasizing every word.
Gray squirmed. “I have already booked passage at great expense,” he said. “And I do love to travel and see the world.”
“More than you love Charlie and want to be with him?”
Gray knew immediately that the answer was no. He would have been delighted if Charlie wanted to visit antipodean destinations with him, but knew that would never happen as long as Barbara and Downham Manor existed.
At the same time, he felt very much as though he were running out of excuses. And why was he attempting to make excuses for why all was hopeless in the first place? He no longer feared that Charlie would change his mind and push him aside for the sake of appearances. Or did he?
“Do you know, Robert,” he said, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I am beginning to believe that trust is not rebuilt in one day, or one summer, and that the wounds that were once inflicted need care and conscious effort to heal.”
“You are just understanding this now?” Robert raised one eyebrow at him.
“At least I am realizing it now rather than?—”
His wise words of dawning maturity were cut short by a woman’s shout from the other side of the house. “Scandal! Infamy! My daughter has been irreparably compromised!”
Gray twisted to look down the hall, then turned back to Robert. “What the devil is that about?” he asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Robert said, expression turning grave.
The two of them marched down the hall, following the growing commotion they could hear deeper in the house, then across the front hall and along the corridor to the conservatory.
By the time they got there, Lady Sandridge had already gathered an audience that consisted of most of the house party guests. Charlie was there as well, standing near a distraught Pettigrew. Gray tossed his anxieties and concerns aside and went straight to his beloved.
“What the devil is the matter?” he asked as though nothing at all was out of sorts between him and Charlie.
Charlie took one look at Gray, his emotions flashing through his expression at whirlwind speed, then shook his head as though he, too, wished to toss everything awkward between them aside.
He inched closer to Gray, close enough to take his hand if he wished to, and said, “Pettigrew tripped right into Lady Sandridge’s marriage trap at last.”
Gray grunted grimly, though he wanted to smile at his unfettered closeness to Charlie.
He did not have a chance to say anything.
“This man has impugned my daughter’s honor!” Lady Sandridge shouted, throwing out her arm to point viciously at Pettigrew. “He drew her into a parlor alone with the expressed intent of laying his hands on her person.”
“Er, I am not entirely certain that is possible,” Lord Iverson said, sending Lady Winifred, who stood close to him, an awkward look.
“What do you mean, my lord?” Lady Sandridge demanded, misunderstanding Lord Iverson’s statement. “Are you saying that my daughter is without honor?”
Lady Eudora squeaked, pausing her false crying to glare indignantly at Lord Iverson. “Just because I have spurned your advances, my lord, does not mean I have no honor.” She sniffed and turned away, adding a bit too loudly, “Your fortune is paltry at any rate.”
Gray rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. He was glad that Barbara was not part of the scene unfolding in the conservatory. His sister-in-law would have fainted with embarrassment on Lady Eudora’s behalf, and Barbara was not a fainter.
“Upon my honor,” Pettigrew appealed to Lady Sandridge. “I would never compromise any woman. Lady Eudora inquired about a medical concern, and when I attempted to assist her, she—” He cleared his throat, face bright red. “The encounter did not proceed the way I anticipated it would.”
Gray had to give the man credit for still attempting to protect Lady Eudora’s reputation, even though it was obvious who was at fault in the situation.
“There is only one acceptable outcome to this travesty,” Lady Sandridge said, tilting her chin up and glaring down her nose at Pettigrew. “This blackguard must marry my daughter to preserve her good name.”
“I beg of you, Lady Sandridge,” Pettigrew said, panic making him go splotchy. “I cannot marry Lady Eudora. You would not wish me on your daughter for all the world.”
“I do not care if you have no title,” Lady Eudora said, forgetting to cry once more. “I will be satisfied with your fortune alone.”
Lady Sandridge seemed to approve of her daughter’s statement, indeed, to be proud of it.
The majority of the others crowded around, observing the scene, with looks of indignation, but not on Lady Eudora’s behalf.
“Truly, my lady, you do not want this,” Pettigrew said, appealing to Lady Eudora.
“I can assure you I do,” Lady Eudora said, grinning as if she’d won a prize. Her expression dropped to wariness a moment later as she asked, “You would not wish to see my reputation ruined, would you, Dr. Pettigrew? You are not that sort of cruel man, are you?”
“Believe you me,” Lady Sandridge said in dire tones. “If you throw my daughter over, it is your reputation that will be forever tarnished. I will see to it that you are labeled the worst sort of villain. Your medical practice would vanish in an instant.”
Gray gaped at the audacity of the two ladies. “How is it that this entire society we live in is dictated by whispers and gossip and reputation ?” he asked, leaning closer to Charlie.
“The world would be a much happier place if everyone in it would leave each other alone to live as they pleased,” Charlie whispered in return.
Gray turned to look at him just as Charlie turned his head to gaze at him.
Their eyes met, and Gray’s heart leapt in his chest. It was not lack of affection or incompatibility that had split the two of them apart seven years ago, it was the frustrating and voracious god of reputation that seemed to rule over English society with an iron fist.
That god could be damned, as far as Gray was concerned.
Though he was aware it still mattered to Charlie, he did not care one whit what anyone thought of him.
He was content to be labeled the worst sort of libertine, even though he was not, if it meant he could share the rest of his life with the man he loved.
Charlie’s expression softened, but in the crowded room, there was no way for them to express the sentiments Gray was certain they both felt.
Both of them were prevented from saying anything more when Lady Sandridge took a step toward Pettigrew and demanded, “Will you marry my daughter, sir, or will you see your reputation and your practice destroyed?”
Gray was indignant that the woman could issue such an ultimatum.
Rather than expressing his indignation as well, Pettigrew sighed and sagged. “I suppose we could enter negotiations of some sort,” he said, face drawn with defeat.