The pen threatened to snap under his grip.
“My treatment of Lady Fleur,” he repeated silkily.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Kilmartin shaking his head at the other man.
Tremaine wisely held his silence.
It was too late, though, for Hart’s brother.
“How could I have forgottentheLady Fleur?” He hadn’t. “Thank you for the reminder, little brother. You’ve given me another reason to turn down yoursuggestion. Which reminds me, little brother, of a long overdue conversation.”
At Tremaine’s side, Kilmartin drank and looked up at the ceiling.
“We have not discussed your falling in line with the McQuoids and refusing any repayment from Culross.”
It was all the ton had—and still was—talking about. Culross showed up outside the McQuoid’s residence, squawking about love, and giving Hart, Tremaine, and Kilmartin all stakes in hisshipping enterprise. All of London heard. Embarrassing stuff, really.
He continued. “As partial owner of Tremaine shipping, that offer was made as much to me and Kilmartin.”
Color flooded the younger man’s sharp cheekbones—those high bones, along with the rest of Tremaine’s classical good-looking features, a gift from the faithless duchess. It was as if that mother reserved all she had for the only son she had ever wanted.
“Surely you understand why I gave my consent, Hart.”
“To please your wife.” Another name popped into his head, and he swiftly wrote it down. “How does that benefit Tremaine shipping?”
Tremaine turned to Kilmartin for support.
Quartermaster and man-of-affairs put his hands up.
A telling muscle jumped in Tremaine’s jaw.
“And do not come to me about how it improved our alliance. We already sealed that when you married a McQuoid,” Hart said, circling his pen in the weak man’s direction. “Letting Culross in diluted our power.”
His brother sat contritely silent. Tremaine was no longer a pitiful babe and lad to be coddled—the pitiful part remained, where Tremaine’s wife and loyalty to the lady’s family were concerned. The coddling? That had come and gone.
“Something I surely do understand, Tremaine? This will be the first and last decision you make regarding Tremaine shipping without my consent.”
Tremaine curled his fingers into the leather arms of his chair.
“What happened to your logic, little brother? Where am I wrong?”
“We are off topic,” Tremaine said tightly.
Hart briefly considered the list Kilmartin had assembled.
“I wasn’t clear before? Forgive me. I decline to help make the McQuoids’ lives easier. Let them stew in their mistakes.”
“Damn it, you’ve always been pig-headed, Hart, but never at the expense of what stands to benefityou. The Tremaines and McQuoids achieving civility helps both families. It is…” Tremaine stared with the same horror he might if he ever learned of his bastardy—which he never would. “It never occurred to me…”
Kilmartin shook his head. “Do not.”
“You actually loved Meg—”
Amusement burst from Hart. “Love that long-in-the-tooth, tiresome chit?” He laughed harder. God, his brother had never failed to amuse him. Falling back in his chair, he got himself together. “By jove,” he said, when his mirth faded to a chuckled, “you’re a droll fellow.”
Tremaine scowled. “If you had a heart, I would think your response was nothing more than a show.”
“Oh, no. I assure you. There’s no heart. You received one for each of us.”Thank God.
