Chapter 29
“Wherein no quarter is given.”
Lawrence sat by the fire in his brother’s office, brooding.
He knew damn well what Alex was up to. Trying to use poor, sweet, Henri as his bait, to get Lawrence caught on a hook he couldn’t wriggle free of.
It was ... it was unforgivable, and so far from the kind of behaviour he would have expected of his older brother that Lawrence could only finally admit defeat on one matter. Alex had changed.
The idea that Alex would not only allow, but actively encourage Henri to deploy such tactics, when he knew that she was quite an innocent, well it .
.. it beggared belief! And he had obviously been aiding and abetting her, for else, where on earth had that dress come from which she’d worn today?
He’d damn near lost his mind when he’d seen his brother kissing her hand and blatantly admiring the view from his vantage point.
But of course, if Alex and Henri failed to get him on the hook, Alex would be forced to marry the girl.
And he’d be doing a great deal more than admiring the view once she was his wife.
The idea made him want to kill something with his bare hands.
One thing was for sure, if he didn’t stay, he would never be able to return in case he killed his own brother.
He scowled into his glass, his mind filled with jealousy and rage, before draining it and reaching for a refill.
He paused with his hand on the decanter as he realised that might not be the best idea.
One thing he was sure hadn’t changed. Alex hated to lose and rarely did, and he had no doubt at all that he would have encouraged poor, sweet Henri to up the ante.
He closed his eyes and swallowed a groan as he remembered her in the hidden tower room.
The taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, her hand as it caressed him so intimately.
He bit back a curse and forced the image from his mind as he found his breeches becoming uncomfortably tight.
He got to his feet and began to pace, reliving as many unpleasant and repulsive memories as he could bring to mind in an effort to dispel the lingering effects of the tantalising Miss Morton.
“Ah, here you are,” said the deep voice of his brother as he entered the room. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I can’t wait to see what Madame Bertaud has rustled up for us now she’s had a bit of notice. The woman was always a superb cook if memory serves.”
“Well you’re in a very fine mood,” Lawrence remarked, feeling every bone in his body tense as his temper took a worse turn. How dare Alex be so damned cheery when he was doing everything in his power to help Henri drive him out of his right mind?
As if on cue, the woman herself appeared in the doorway and any comment either men might have made apparently died on their lips.
Lawrence was speechless. He tried to find something to say, words of outrage perhaps? A demand that Miss Morton retrace her steps this very moment and go and put something on more suitable for an unmarried woman. That she go and put something on! But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.
For standing in the doorway was not a woman of flesh and blood, it simply couldn’t be. She was a goddess, an ancient deity stepped out from the veil between worlds, there was no other explanation. Lawrence had never seen a woman look so lovely and never had he wanted one as badly.
The white silk dress was so very fine that the light from the corridor behind her shone through, illuminating everything that the dress itself didn’t highlight by clinging lovingly to her every curve.
The soft white emphasised her creamy skin, the delicate pink of cheeks and lips, and the dark mass of her hair that was arranged around her face, with artless curls that framed that sweet heart-shaped face and those huge brown eyes.
Those eyes that fell upon him with such warmth, and hope, and desire.
Oh, dear God, he was a dead man. For he didn’t know how he would be able to refuse her anything, and if he stayed, he would bring a world of trouble to her door, and for that he would never forgive himself.
Shaking himself from his reverie he dragged his unwilling eyes away to look at his brother and found with fury he was every bit under this siren’s spell as he was.
“Alex!” he snapped, to which his brother looked to him with surprise. “Shall we go through?” he practically growled, moving forward to take Henri’s arm before Alex had the chance to.
“Good evening, Lawrence,” Henri said, her voice quiet, though he was fairly certain there was a thread of amusement underneath that soft tone. Her hand was light upon his arm, and he refused to look down at her for fear of getting ensnared in those eyes.
He gritted his teeth and managed to get them into the dining room and Henri seated so that at least some of her was obscured beneath the table.
Once he’d taken his own seat, he discovered this helped very little at all as he was directly opposite her and everything he could still see only served to make his mind wander to consider everything he couldn’t.
Henri, of course, was doing everything she could to make matters worse. Whenever he looked at her, she was watching him, with such a seductive light in her eyes he ached with the need to show her exactly what it was she was asking him for.
He wondered, by now approaching a state he could only describe as frantic, if someone had schooled her for tonight’s performance or if it was just natural talent.
And then she scandalised him further by picking up an asparagus spear with delicate fingers, and closing those luscious pink lips around it, all the time looking at him with such clear intent of what she was really thinking about, that he found himself grow hard, right there at the table.
He clenched his fists in his lap and forced himself to look at his plate, the servants and nowhere else.
It was going to be a bloody long night.
By the time the dessert was served Lawrence was at his wit’s end.
Alex had obviously decided that being married to the vision by his side would not be such a bad idea after all and had turned on the charm.
He had flirted outrageously and in a manner totally unfit for a lady of good character, but to Lawrence’s horror, Henri had not only allowed it but responded in kind.
Of course, he could have mitigated the situation by being equally charming and flirtatious, but jealousy had tied his tongue, rage had made him dare not speak for fear of calling his brother out, and pity at his own situation made him sink further into despair.
So, by the time a crystal dish of syllabub was placed in front of him he had become a glowering and unhappy presence at the table, in stark contrast to their laughter and frivolity.
“Well, Lawrence, what do you say?”
“What?” he snapped, torn out of his dark thoughts and then recalling himself as Alex raised an eyebrow at him. “I beg your pardon,” he said, with little grace. “I was not attending the conversation.”
“You don’t say?” Alex murmured, idly tracing a pattern on the damask table cloth.
He leaned back in his chair regarding his younger brother with undisguised amusement glittering in those cool grey eyes.
“Well forgive me for interrupting your thoughts with our idle chatter, but I had suggested you take Miss Morton riding tomorrow, out to the ruined abbey. It appears, like many young ladies, Henri has a love of the Gothic and the macabre, and as sadly I am to be away from home all day, the pleasure of the outing must fall to you.”
Lawrence gritted his teeth. “No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said, thinking of nothing further but the need to spite Alex and his damn scheming.
Turning Lawrence’s beautiful girl to his own devices and dressing her up and teaching her to act like a courtesan was beyond anything he would have believed of his own brother.
Well, damn him, he couldn’t play if Lawrence was no longer here.
“Why ever not?” There was a dark and challenging tone to Alex’s question which didn’t escape him but there was nothing else to be done. He had to get away, get away from both of them before he was too entangled to ever be able to leave.
“Because I won’t be here. I intend to be on my way at first light.”
There was silence at the table with the exception of a soft gasp from Henri, and he found he couldn’t meet her eyes. It was for the best. The words kept circling over and over in his head but the more he heard them the less sense they seemed to make.
“I see,” Alex said. There was no inflexion in his voice and the room seemed utterly still.
Finally, Alex broke the silence once more, placing his napkin on the table and getting to his feet.
“In that case I will bid you a good evening so that you may take your leave of Miss Morton now, as I imagine you will not wish to disturb her at such an unfashionable hour of the morning. I, however, will see you before you go, Lawrence.”
This last was said with a tone that brooked no argument and Lawrence was forced to nod his acceptance. He wished he had the nerve to follow Alex out of the room without another word, but he couldn’t treat Henri in such a way. It would be unforgivable.
The door closed quietly, and he was left facing her. With difficulty he forced himself to look up and meet her eyes, only to find her staring down at her untouched dessert. He had the uncomfortable suspicion she might be crying.
“Henri,” he said, his voice soft, bracing himself for tears as she looked up at him, and totally wrong footed when he discovered the fury of a goddess in her eyes.
“You damned coward!” she said, eyes blazing with rage. She got to her feet and began to walk away from him without another word.
“Henri!”