Tristan was not to be put off. He strode over to the chair in front of the desk and sank into it with practiced ease. He took some pleasure in the tightening of his brother’s jaw. It was almost like when they were lads and he’d irritate him on purpose just to get him riled, hoping their father would scold Rafe, but it was always Tristan who was at the receiving end of the sharp tongue or the birch switch. “There was once a woman who I wanted to bed with a fierceness that nearly unmanned me, but she was the daughter of the tribal chief on the island where we weighed anchor. I could not have her but I nearly drowned in feminine bodies while I was there.”
“So you’re explaining to me that you’re a cad with neither morals nor conscience?”
“Considering the type of establishment you run, I would not be so quick to cast aspersions upon my character.” He quickly held up his hand as he saw the temper flare in Rafe’s eyes. “Forgive me. I am not judging you. My point was that if he lusted after Mary, he might return here to slake that lust.”
“Why should I make this my concern?”
“Did you fail to notice that he is hardly a handsome fellow these days? To face the situation squarely, we must admit that it will be a challenge for him to secure a wife.”
“So you wish to play matchmaker?”
A chill went through Tristan. Was that where he was going with this? Matrimonial bonds were exactly that. Bonds. Chains. Captivity. Did he wish that on his brother?
“I wouldn’t go that far. But it would be satisfying to see matters between them return to what they once were. He and Mary were always spending time together, traipsing through the forests. She has grown into a beauty, while he—”
“Is a beast?”
Sebastian’s voice barked behind him. It was a testament to Tristan’s stalwart disposition that he did not so much as flinch, that he gave no indication he was startled. Instead he merely glowered at Rafe. “Thank you, Brother, for the warning.”
A corner of Rafe’s mouth quirked up, a glimmer of mischief touched his eyes for the span of a heartbeat, and in that time Tristan saw a shadow of the boy his brother had once been. “I told you that you were under the mistaken impression that I had time for this nonsense.”
Tristan threw an arm back over the chair and twisted around to meet Sebastian’s unnerving stare. It was somehow worse that he could deliver such a powerful message with only one frosty eye. “How was Mary?”
“Well.”
“And Flo?”
If at all possible Sebastian’s glare became even more menacing. “I am going to Easton House to watch Uncle as he packs to leave. I thought I would see if you both wished to come with me.”
“I have more pressing matters that require my attention,” Rafe said.
“More pressing than reclaiming what is ours?” Tristan asked, studying his brother as though he didn’t know him. He supposed he really didn’t.
“I did my part by accompanying you both to the damned ball. I don’t need to see the packing.”
“Rafe is right,” Sebastian said. “He was with us when it counted most. What I intend to do now is little more than relish the outcome.”
Tristan rose to his feet. “Then by all means, let’s go relish.”
With mischief in their eyes and secretive smiles, Ladies Hermione and Victoria arrived at precisely half past two. While Mary attended balls, parties, and soirees, she had never had an official coming out. She had simply begun to appear at events, tagging along after her aunt and cousin. She was tolerated with mild curiosity. Her betrothal to Fitzwilliam had raised her stature somewhat, but with no brother to inherit her father’s title, she was hardly sought after for gossip or connections. But whatever her lack in standing, the ladies sitting in her drawing room could hardly be bothered with it. They were on the hunt for much larger game.
“So they are friends of yours ... these lords from last night?” Lady Hermione asked pointedly. Both she and Victoria were sitting on the edge of their chairs, as though Mary’s answer would determine their futures.
“Our country estates rest beside each other’s, so we grew up riding our horses over the same hills, exploring the same forests.” Her answer did not seem to impress the ladies. In fact, they seemed rather baffled by it, and she realized they had probably grown up caring for their porcelain dolls. Mary had much preferred the outdoor pursuits, especially when she could entice Sebastian away from his studies. Often Tristan or Rafe would join them, but they would soon grow bored with their adventures while Mary and Sebastian could always find something of interest.
“It was rather naughty of them to run away,” Lady Victoria said, her squeaky voice propelling Mary back to the present.
“Their uncle wished them harm.”
“My papa says we can’t know that for sure.”
Mary stared at her, hardly able to believe that after what they had witnessed last night, anyone would have doubts. But then what had they witnessed? Three younger men treating their uncle shabbily while he proclaimed to have their best interests at heart. Sebastian was correct. Even if she told them what she’d overheard they might not believe her. It could very well do more harm than good, so she held her tongue when she wished dearly to use it with ferocity.
“Their reason for leaving is hardly important,” Lady Hermione said, further confounding Mary. “The point is that they are unlike any gentlemen we’ve ever met. Frightfully fascinating in a rough sort of way. And devilishly handsome with a touch of wickedness about them. While the duke was carrying on with his uncle I managed to capture Lord Tristan’s gaze last night, and I swear he looked at me as though he could envision me without my unmentionables.”
She wanted to say that flirting with young ladies was probably the last thing on any of the gentlemen’s minds as they had stood on the stairs reclaiming their birthright. But these silly girls were so sheltered and innocent that Mary felt ancient sitting here with them. They viewed the lords as little more than the latest in entertainment.
“Have they means?” Lady Victoria asked.
