“In fact, it’s on Anna’s account that I’m here. She’s decided that we must go on a tour of North Africa to look for promising horses.”
Prickles of foreboding climbed up Wolfgang’s spine, but he ignored them and raised his glass. “Good health to you both.”
“Thank you. I’ll be gone for several months, and I’ve come to ask a favor of you.”
“A favor? The estate’s keeping me bloody busy these days. How the hell John managed to—”
“It’s about my sister. Gran’s her chaperone, of course, but she’s getting old to keep up with Charlotte. I wonder if you might keep an eye on—”
“No!” Wolfgang’s boots slid off the desk and hit the floor with a crash, toppling one of his stacks.
Ramsay stared.
“No.” Wolfgang said it again, to make it very clear. “I will not keep an eye on your sister.”
“I see. May I ask why?”
“Because she’s a menace!”
“Then you understand why I require your help.”
“You require a bloody army,” Wolfgang muttered.
Ramsay caught his gaze and held it. “I know it hasn’t been easy lately, Wolfgang, but there’s no one else. I’m asking you.”
Wolfgang made a series of strangled, gargling sounds. No, it hadn’t been easy, but “lately” was a bit of a stretch. It was nearly three years since he’d returned home from Waterloo only to lose an older brother he loved and gain a dukedom he didn’t.
Ramsay hid a smile behind his port snifter. “I assume your fit of choking means you’ll do it?”
Wolfgang grabbed his glass again, and only when he’d drained it completely did he feel able to reply. “I suppose, if I must. But only if you stop that damned smirking.”
“What smirking?”
“There’s a smirk plastered across your face. You look like a damned Frenchman.”
“I’m relieved.” Ramsay hesitated. “My stepmother returned from Prussia early—”
“Good God, you don’t need me if Charlotte’smother’sin London. Let her live with Lady Margot.”
But Ramsay shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m never quite easy when Lady Margot’s in town. It’s better all around if Charlotte remains with Gran and you check in on them from time to time. Agreed?”
What could Wolfgang do but pour another glass, fortify himself with a long sip, and nod curtly?
“What?” he said, catching Ramsay’s eye on him. “Christ, don’t tell me there’s more?”
A hint of a smile tugged at Ramsay’s mouth. “There’s nothing more. I was simply wondering why you go strange any time I mention my sister.”
Wolfgang said nothing. He could have protested, but it would only have given the bastard something new to smirk about. It was true that Lady Charlotte bothered him, but it was only because…
She bothered him because…
Blast it. The truth was that before John died, there was a time Wolfgang had liked Charlotte very much. He should have pushed that time into the dusty, distant recesses of his mind, but he found it still smarted. Not a big pain, nothing like the others that made him want to howl, but like a small round pebble he could never quite remove from his boot.
A gust of cold night air slapped Wolfgang and brought him back to himself. His head cleared, his heart filled with wrath, he stomped down the darkened London street, hot on Charlotte’s trail.
Was shewhistling, the scoundrel, as she strode along?
But his eyes narrowed, because something about her gait was off. It wasn’t quite her usual saunter, but something sharper, more purposeful, as if—
