The Guise of a Gentleman (15 page)

He groaned softly. “I should leave. This is far too tempting.”

“Don’t go.” Oh, gracious, what had she just said? “Ah, I mean, the guest room is at your disposal. You needn’t go out this late.”

He crushed her to him. “I can’t stay without…” He pulled back and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“I trust you.” The words came out of her mouth before she realized it. But, oddly enough, she meant them.

He looked pained. “I’m a bad man. I’ve done things that would horrify you.”

“Charlotte Greymore’s husband came home from the war suffering for the acts of violence committed in battle. That faded in time.”

Smiling faintly, yet with sadness still shading his eyes, he pushed himself away as though it took great effort. Elise had the feeling she’d just missed a crucial puzzle piece.

He rose and stood over her with a tender smile. Tender. Not rakish, not playful, not wicked. Tender. The softness in her heart crept outward.

“Thank you.” He kissed her hand and pressed it against his cheek with his eyes closed. He quivered again, released her hand and strode quickly away.

His rich voice rumbled as he conversed briefly with the footman by the door before he left. Without him, the house seemed dreadfully empty. Elise sat in stunned silence at the power that man held over her.

Exhilarating.

Heaven help her, the temptation to run after him and beg him to remain with her, loving her all night long in the way only he could, was nearly overwhelming. She clenched her fists while her heart thudded and a strange yearning coiled deep within. She struggled to banish all those warm, wicked, delicious thoughts. Then, she stopped struggling and let them envelope her in all their glory.

Jared stood shoulder to shoulder between his brothers Cole and Christian, drawing strength from their presence. Emptiness seized Jared’s chest each time he looked around his childhood home and failed to find either of his parents.

He’d been wrong to stay away. Foolish and proud and wrong. And now it was too late.

Jared knew he made a grim trio with Cole and Christian when the fourth guest who ventured an approach seemed to think better of it and turned away.

Sipping his drink, Jared glanced at Cole. His eldest brother, as usual, remained impassive but the lines around Cole’s mouth had softened since his marriage. Impeccable as usual, Cole wore all black for the funeral, except for the white cravat and sapphire stick pin glittering from among the snowy folds. He stood with the air of authority only possessed by an heir bred for the role of earl.

“It was a nice service,” Christian said, clearly feeling the need to break the silence.

Cole only grunted in reply.

Several irreverent quips popped into Jared’s head, but he stifled the impulse to voice them. Instead, he merely said, “It was.”

Standing to Jared’s left, Christian ran his thumb along his lower lip. Jared wondered if Christian knew how much he looked like Father when he did that. Christian was a younger, almost pretty version of Cole; ‘pretty’ being the ultimate insult in the Amesbury brood and a taunt they’d hurled at each other all their lives. The only thing which saved Christian from the horror of being truly pretty was a small, very new scar near one eye. How had he gotten that?

Every inch the height and breadth of Cole, Christian dressed as impeccably as the eldest, perfectly at ease with his black tailored clothing. And, unlike the child he’d been, Christian now stood with an air of quiet confidence, if more solemn than usual. Perfect, as always. Everything about Christian was gold, from the color of his hair to the quality of his heart. Even the cravat looked good on Christian. The dog. Jared resisted tugging on his own necktie.

“The solicitor wants to meet with us all tomorrow at eleven o’clock, if convenient,” Christian said with a glance at Cole.

Grief etched lines around Christian’s eyes, and he moved slowly as if in a dream. As the one who’d stayed home while the rest of them went off to war, and then took care of Father as his health declined, Father’s death must have hit Christian hardest of all.

“Of course,” Cole said.

Relatives, many with names Jared could barely remember, mingled with the guests. The murmur of voices and soft laughter filtered through the sun- drenched air. If the guests hadn’t been dressed somberly, this would appear a garden party instead of a funeral luncheon.

Jared finished his drink and set it on a passing tray. As he glanced at a nearby path, he wondered if it would be bad form to disappear into one of the many gardens that graced the Tarrington ancestral grounds.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were intruding. Everywhere he looked, he noticed things that had changed since he left. Everything was steeped in memory; some clear, others the dimmed memories of a child who’d taken home and family for granted. The few times Jared had returned to England over the years, he’d visited his mother and siblings when they were in London, but he’d kept the visits brief and carefully timed so as to ensure never coming face to face with Father.

How he longed to go back and reclaim the years lost.

As if sensing Jared’s regret, Christian gripped his shoulder briefly. “It’s good to have you home.”

Jared sent him a look of gratitude. Christian met his gaze with a new intensity that had never been there before.

Grant, Jared’s junior by three years, sauntered to them. He normally scorned fashion and convention by wearing attire more appropriate for stalking hapless footpads in London’s seediest alleys. Yet, for the occasion of attending the funeral of his own father, a prominent earl, Grant had dressed in a tailored black superfine. Cole had probably threatened to throw him in the stocks if he didn’t appear in suitable clothing. Not that such a threat would have effected Grant.

Secretly, Jared agreed with Grant’s preferred attire, and had gleefully shunned gentleman’s clothing while he’d played a pirate. Openly, Jared often taunted Grant’s lack of decorum. Not that Grant ever seemed to care, curse him.

At the moment, Grant seemed almost amused. Well, amused for Grant. Less grim than usual, anyway. He lifted a brow as he looked at each of them in turn. “Funeral luncheons are supposed to be solemn, not drive guests to suicide.”

Jared smirked. Cole turned a baleful glare on Grant. Christian ignored him. No surprise there; Grant and Christian had spent the better part of their lives ignoring each other.

Grant looked the least like the Amesbury brothers. Like them all, he shared Father’s build, but his eyes were silvery-gray instead of blue, his features sharper, more angular, and his hair was almost black, a good reflection of his soul, Jared thought. A wide, ragged scar ran from his forehead to his jaw, narrowly missing his eye, making his appearance truly forbidding.

Grant’s assessing gaze took on a calculating glint, and Jared waited for the cynical wisdom he would no doubt spew forth, making them look like illiterate babes.

“Wait. Here, you should stand thusly.” Grant grasped Jared by the arm and tugged. Curious, Jared did not resist as Grant moved him to the other side of Cole. “There. Now you’re in ascending order of pretty, beginning with Christian.”

Jared laughed. Christian glanced heavenward, no doubt communing with angels mere mortals could not see, and calling down a holy amount of patience. Jared expected some kind of witty retort from Christian but he remained silently impervious to Grant’s barbs.

Growing reflective, Jared pitied Christian for the torment he’d suffered at the hands of his brothers. From Jared, especially. They’d called him ‘pretty boy,’ the ‘perfectly perfect Christian,’ and ‘Mama’s favorite.’ The last, of course, was spoken purely in jealousy, since Mama’s attention was a coveted prize. Her soft hands and soothing voice were memories Jared had most treasured when he’d been far from home.

Grant turned to Cole. “And I suppose now that you’re the impressive Sixth Earl of Tarrington, you expect us to call you ‘My Lord?’”

Cole cuffed Grant on the back of the head. “Remember your manners, whelp. As head of the family, I control the money now. Unlike Jared and Christian, you’ve no investments of your own.”

Grant yawned. “None that you know of. My Lord.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Perhaps you’re disappointed that Christian’s still prettier than you?”

Christian rolled his eyes. Jared couldn’t have borne it had he been the target of Grant’s merciless onslaught. Yet despite all Grant’s attempts to ruffle him, Christian remained impassive, almost bored, like a tower standing against a storm.

As Jared took a good look at his youngest brother, he realized, except for his blond hair, Christian simply looked like a younger version of Father. His lips were slightly fuller, and his cheekbones more prominent, but there was truly nothing feminine about Christian, certainly nothing to warrant the insult ‘pretty.’ He’d certainly grown into a capable, dignified man.

“Any new directives you wish to make, O wise head of the household?” Grant taunted Cole.

“Leave him alone, Grant,” Christian said wearily.

Grant folded his arms and fixed a blank stare at Christian. “But of course; anything you say, Pretty Boy.”

Christian’s calm exterior slipped as he faced him and his tone turned mocking. “Did we hurt your feelings when no one invited you to stand in the pretty line?”

Grant let out a snort but before he could say another word, Christian added, “Oh, no, of course not; you’d have to have feelings.”

Cole interjected with a decisive, “Enough.”

The twins, Margaret and Rachel, approached. As if sensing the tension, Margaret lifted her head and looked at them with the condescending gaze one might expect from a queen. Marriage to a marquis had only encouraged her haughty demeanor. Or perhaps it was the decided lack of happiness she’d found in her wedded state.

Rachel shadowed her, her expression bland, but tragedy shimmered around the edges. Normally vibrant, she’d taken Father’s death very hard, especially since it came so close on the heels of Mother’s.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Rachel said. “I keep expecting him to walk around the corner.”

Christian examined the ground, his golden head lowered. “I’d hoped he would rally at Bath.”

“I suppose a broken heart will do that to you,” Rachel said with a faraway look.

Decidedly preoccupied, Christian wandered away, probably in search of something to eat. Though nearly five and twenty, he still ate like a colt.

“Few find a love like theirs, outside of fairy tales,” Margaret said with a hard note to her voice.

Rachel turned to Cole. “You did, though, didn’t you? Find a love like Mama and Father?”

Cole’s expression softened so dramatically that Jared had to laugh. “You besotted fool.”

Cole grinned, looking decidedly smug. “Better than a lonely fool.”

Jared scanned the crowed until he found Cole’s wife, Alicia. Poised and gracious, she moved among the guests who’d attended the funeral. Though no one would ever consider her uncommonly beautiful, Alicia was uniquely lovely, and glowed with quiet joy. Even in her mourning attire, she looked radiant. She called everyone by name, and fixed her attention upon them as if they were the only one with whom she wanted to converse, whether a member of the nobility or the most humble field worker.

Cole had found a remarkable woman. Jared had liked Alicia immediately when they’d met a year ago. She and Elise Berkley would like each other. Both possessed courage, inner strength, and uncommon gentleness.

The thought of introducing Elise to his family filled him with warmth, and suddenly the estate felt like home.

Alicia moved to Christian who stood leaning against a tree, removed from the others, and staring off in the distance.

Jared frowned. Though Christian had always been a bit shy, it was unlike him to isolate himself unless immersed in the throes of painting. Was he so affected by Father’s death? Or something else?

At Alicia’s approach, he turned to her with a ready smile. Within moments, they were laughing together like old friends. As if unable to remain from her side for long, Cole went to his wife and took her hand. The smile she bestowed on him would have melted a marble statue. Lucky devil.

As Cole and Alicia left arm in arm, Christian turned away to stare thoughtfully out over the landscape.

Keenly missing the years lost between them, Jared sauntered to Christian and slung an arm around his youngest brother’s neck. Jared mentally shook his head over how tall and broad-shouldered Christian had become. “You know, I’ve actually missed you.”

Christian eyed him warily. “Indeed?”

“I met a little boy who reminded me of you as a child.”

Christian lifted a brow in a perfect imitation of Cole. “You tried to feed him to a tiger?”

Jared laughed. “No. I took him fishing.”

“So you tried to drown him?”

Chuckling, Jared tightened his arm around Christian. “I deserved that. Ah, Chris, you’re too good for this ugly world. Think you’ll ever find a woman worthy of you, or will a saint like you be transformed into a real angel first?”

Christian touched the scar by his eye in an unconscious gesture. A shadow passed over him that gave Jared pause, but he swiftly brought up a
façade
as practiced as any operative. Jared took his arm from around Christian’s shoulders and led him apart from the others. They followed one of the garden paths away from the house.

Jared eyed him. “What’s amiss between you and Grant? You usually just ignore each other, but now ….”

Christian shrugged but failed to appear as casual as he’d no doubt intended. “ ’Tis nothing.”

“Nothing? He’s been taking shots at you all day.”

“He usually does.”

Jared eyed him. “Since when?”

“Years.”

Jared waited, but Christian volunteered nothing further. Still missing the lost time between them, Jared finally said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Christian made a slight choking sound. “So you could keep tormenting me?”

Jared winced. “I wasn’t the best brother.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” A playful glint surfaced in Christian’s eye. “Surely not the time you dug a hole and planned to trap a tiger so you could feed me to it? Or when you locked me in the gardener’s shed after telling me it was haunted and then banged on the walls and wailed? Or—”

“I see your point.”

Christian grinned wryly to show he bore no hard feelings.

“I was terrible.” Jared blew out his breath and tugged at his cravat. If he’d had any decency, he never would have picked on a child six years younger than himself, especially one as tender-hearted as Christian had been.

“It was a long time ago,” Christian said dismissively.

“You must have been glad to see me go.”

“Would you believe I missed you when you and Cole left?” His voice quieted. “Especially since it was so soon after Jason fell.”