Greydon went to reach for his drink but thought better of it. He needed a clear head when he spoke to the coroner. “I just would leave things the way they are, especially since Enid has not asked for your help.”
“When has that stopped me before?” Brentwood asked. “I would like to see my sister happily settled with a man that loves her above all else.”
“She only lost her husband a month ago,” Greydon pointed out.
“Yes, but he was a blackguard,” Brentwood grumbled.
Turning towards Lord Roswell, Greydon asked, “Do you intend to go along with this madness?”
Lord Roswell shrugged. “I do not have any qualms about it,” he replied. “A few well-timed words to the right people wouldn’t hurt anything.”
Greydon cared more for Enid than he dared to admit and he did want her to have the happiest of futures. But that didn’t mean he wanted to open her up to the criticism that would obviously come from her returning to Society. Thetonwas full of vipers and they would strike at the first sign of weakness.
Brentwood continued. “Before you say no…”
“How did you know I was going to say no?” Greydon asked, speaking over him.
“Lucky guess,” Brentwood replied. “Regardless, before you say no, all I am asking is for you to call on my sister on a few occasions. That shouldn’t be too difficult a task for you.”
“Pray tell, how will that help her?”
“Once thetonsees that you have embraced her return home, the gossipmongers might not be as cruel,” Brentwood said.
“I doubt that,” Greydon muttered.
Lord Roswell interjected. “I disagree. After all, a lot of people are intimidated by you and I doubt they would want to cross you.”
“That is because I purposely keep people at arm’s length,” Greydon said. “It is a strategy that has worked well for me.”
Brentwood stretched out his legs. “I have come to realize that your bark is much worse than your bite.”
“That would be a mistake on your part,” Greydon said.
Lord Roswell pointed towards the black armband on his sleeve. “My condolences on the loss of your brother.”
“You don’t need to pretend to mourn him. I know what a despicable cad he was,” Greydon asserted.
“Phineas may have had a terrible reputation but he was still your brother,” Lord Roswell said. “That should mean something.”
“It does, and I will ensure that Lady Eugenie pays for what she did,” Greydon asserted with a clenched jaw.
"Vengeance won’t help you mourn your brother,” Lord Roswell counseled.
“It will help,” Greydon said as he abruptly rose. “If you will excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Greydon…” Lord Roswell attempted.
He put his hand up, stilling his friend’s words. “I do not need your pity.”
“Good, because you don’t have it,” Lord Roswell said. “I have no reason to pity you but I do wish you would take some time to mourn your brother.”
“What good would that do?” Greydon demanded. “The newssheets reported that the mothers of London can breathe a sigh of relief now that my brother is dead. No one else is mourning him. Why should I?”
Brentwood gave him a pointed look. “Because you are better than that.”
“Apparently not,” Greydon said. “I hadn’t spoken to my brother in quite some time before his death. We have been at odds with one another for as long as I can remember.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel his loss,” Brentwood pressed.
