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Genny watched the two of them—the blond, delicate-featured eight-year-old boy and the scarred, dark giant. Rafe didn’t hurry things, didn’t rush them back to the house. He took his time. Watching him being so good to Geoffrey, saying just the right things to ease a confused eight-year-old’s loneliness and fear, Genny couldn’t help but be reminded of all she so admired about him.
Surely they could overcome this strangeness and distance between them and forge a union of mutual love and respect.
“All right,” said Geoffrey at last. “I guess they’ll all be waiting, wondering. Mum will be crying. We should get back.”
“Excellent,” said Rafe.
They stood up and brushed the bits of grass from their clothes.
* * *
They all three walked back together, the gelding trailing on a lead behind Rafe, Caesar taking up the rear. As they approached the East Wing, a groom appeared and took charge of the horse.
Brooke was waiting in the East Entrance Hall, still in her dressing gown, crumpled on a delicate white-and-gold side chair, sobbing into her hands, her long hair falling forward. At the sound of their footsteps on the inlaid floor, she yanked her shoulders up and raked all that hair back off her forehead. “Geoffrey. My God. You have scared me out of my wits!” She leapt up and ran to him. Dropping to a crouch in front of him, the long, filmy skirts of her robe fanning on the floor like the petals of some giant flower, she grabbed him in a hug and sobbed on his small shoulder. “How could you?”
Genny and Rafe shared a glance. She knew he wanted to intervene as much as she did, to try to get Brooke to ease off. But intervening would most likely only make things worse.
So they said nothing as Brooke cried, “You horrid, cruel little beast!”
Geoffrey turned his head away and mumbled in obvious misery, “Sorry, Mum....”
“Sorry? Sorry!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and glared at him furiously. “Don’t you ever, ever—”
“Brooke.” Rafe did cut in then. “He’s back. He knows he did wrong. Could you dial it down a notch?”
Brooke gasped, released Geoffrey and surged to her feet. She shot her brother a venomous look—a look that seemed to bounce off his huge shoulder and end up aimed straight at Genny. “You...” She let out a hard, ragged breath full of pure venom. Her blue eyes shone with righteous fury. “Rory told us you took off for the castle without telling a soul.”
“Well, but you just said it yourself, Brooke. I did tell Rory,” Genny reminded her hopefully.
Brooke sniffed, all wounded nobility now. “The point is you should have told me. I’m his mother after all. I’m the one who has the right to know every bit of new information first in a terrifying situation such as this. But you didn’t tell me, did you, Your Highness? You didn’t say a word to me. You just ran off to save him, to have all the glory for yourself.”
Rafe said warningly, “Brooke...”
Genny silenced him with a touch of her hand on his big, hard arm. “I apologize. I’m sorry you weren’t informed.” She spoke gently, hoping to diffuse the coming tirade before it really got going.
But that only brought another outraged gasp from Brooke. “Oh, please. You’re not the least sorry and we both know that.” Right then, Eloise and the housekeeper came in from the hallway behind Brooke. Brooke never turned, never even paused for breath. “I know you, Genevra, so sweet and sincere. So very kind to everyone.”
Geoffrey tugged on her robe. “Mum, don’t...”
She ignored him and went right on while everyone watched, struck speechless, like witnesses to a horrible accident. “They all adore you, don’t they? You are just the sweetest thing. And yet somehow you never fail to find a way to make yourself the center of attention.”
“Enough!” Rafe roared.
And Geoffrey fisted his small hands hard at his sides and shouted, “Stop it, Mum, you stop it! You leave Aunt Genny alone!” And then he whirled on his heel and fled up the stairs.
Brooke let out a cry. “Geoffrey! Oh, darling...” The waterworks started in again as she lifted the long hem of her robe and took off after him.
That left the rest of them standing in the entrance hall staring at each other. Genny felt awful, as though she’d been somehow at fault for Brooke’s tantrum. Worse than that, she worried for Geoffrey. What a nightmare.
Rafe reached out and drew her into his side. She went willingly, their troubles of the night before forgotten in that moment. He was so huge and warm and strong and just his touch made her feel better about everything.
Eloise shook her head. “So much drama, and it’s not even noon yet.” She went straight to Genny. “My dearest girl. Are you all right?” Genny pressed her lips together and gave a quick nod, to which Eloise whispered, “But of course you are.”
