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He yanked her gown down over her legs. “Wait here, and I’ll tell the butler to summon my coach.”

He unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. Helene could hear him brusquely telling the butler to fetch his carriage, as his wife wasn’t feeling well. His wife! How odd it felt to hear him use that word. But, to tell the truth, she’d never felt more of a wife.

Wives were taken home in fits of exhaustion by their husbands; wives knew the deep pleasure of thinking that they might be carrying a child…. That night, Helene fell into bed with an ecstasy of happiness and anticipation.

Twelve

The Saint and the Sinner

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here, Tom?”

Tom opened his eyes sleepily. He’d fallen asleep in the library, waiting for Rees to return home. “Came to visit you,” he said, his words almost strangled by an enormous yawn.

“Well, you can take yourself home again tomorrow morning,” Rees said with a ferocious scowl.

Tom had woken up by now and he watched his brother’s back as Rees poured himself a glass of brandy.

“Do you want something to drink?” Rees tossed over his shoulder.

“No, thanks.”

“How could I forget,” Rees said, obviously between gritted teeth, “men of God don’t drink or fornicate, do they?”

Tom bit back a rejoinder. It had taken him the five years since their father’s death to decide that Rees wasn’t going to visit him, so he would have to make the trip to London. But he’d forgotten what an utter bastard Rees could be when he wanted to. Which was generally when he was unhappy, as Tom remembered it.

“How’s Helene?” he asked.

“Fine.” Rees tossed off the brandy.

“Have you seen her recently?”

“Saw her tonight,” Rees said, putting down the glass with a thump. “Actually, you’ll like this, Tom, with all your sanctimonious views of matrimony. Helene’s moving back to the house.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I don’t know if she will be,” Rees said, turning around and giving Tom a wolfish grin. “I haven’t told her yet. But I’ve decided to get myself an heir.”

“An excellent provision.”

“Since you look to be just as hen-hearted as you ever were,” Rees said with brutal precision, eyeing Tom’s collar. “I suppose you haven’t done a thing about getting an heir for the estate. Unless you’re planning to introduce me to a pious hymn-singing wife?”

Tom’s muscles tensed and then he counted to ten. Just because their father delighted in pitting them against each other didn’t mean that he had to play the game any longer. He couldn’t tell from Rees’s face whether he expected him to lose control, or not.

Instead, he rose. “I’ve taken the Yellow Bedchamber.”

“How long are you planning to stay?” Rees asked, pouring himself another drink.

“As long as I wish to,” Tom said with a flash of the old anger.

“Why did you come in the first place?”

“I’m staying until I find my brother again,” Tom said evenly. “That would be the brother I had until I was ten years old. The brother I miss.”

“I am your brother,” Rees said, with a twist of his lips. “I can’t say exactly when you turned into such a Holy Willie, but if you would put the transformation at ten years old, so be it.”

Tom shook his head. “I became a priest at twenty-two, Rees. Ten years old is when our father first noticed me.”

“Well, I’d prefer that you left,” Rees said flatly. “Touching though I find your concern, it’s going to be very tricky with Helene back in the house. I’d rather do the straight and narrow without my moralistic little brother poking his nose into everything.”