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The earl’s weathered eyes glanced up and down her body and she had to stifle the urge to try and smooth the wrinkles in her dress once more.
“Ah, a proper lady, ye are. My condolences on yer father. My Ev has done well, ye are a splendid creature.” His sweeping glance stopped at the top her head. “But I must inquire, where is your hat, lass? My Lettie always had a hat about her head.”
Of course.
She shot Evan a dagger look. “I am afraid it was crushed during the journey north. We had to leave most of mybelongingson the first day of the journey, as our original carriage got stuck in the mud during a particularly nasty storm. We had to travel onward without my luggage.”
“A hardy soul, ye are.” He nodded, his hand clasped around hers squeezing. “Not proper, but the hue of your hair is a glorious thing, lass. Much better to look upon than a crumpled hat.” He glanced downward again. “I imagine that is where the rest of your wardrobe is as well?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then I’ll have the dressmakercome from Dalginrosson the morrow.” He released her hand and moved to sit down. Evan grabbed his elbow, helping to ease him into his chair. “She’ll see to fitting ye properly as befits yer station.”
A genuine smile crossed Juliet’s face. Instant generosity, instant kindness from this man. Not the slightest hesitation in imparting both of those things. No wonder Evan loved him as he did.
She caught his eye and inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord, that is more than kind.”
Evan set his hand in between her shoulder blades and veered her back across the wide room to the shadows along the wall of bookcases. It wasn’t until she was three feet in front of him that she realized another man sat in the room facing away from them in the far dark corner of the room, nearly invisible for his black jacket and the hunch in his shoulders that hid his head from view.
He sat at a small table, an almost empty decanter in front of him. At their approach, he shifted up slightly and tilted his head back, swallowing in one gulp the healthy dram of liquid in his glass.
He looked up, his stare solely on Evan, the whites of his eyes only reflecting slivers of the fireplace glow from across the room.
The right side of his mouth lifted into what she could only place as a snarl.
“Fiancée?” The word drawled out, slurred.
Evan inclined his head, his voice even. “Indeed. We have much to discuss, brother.” He nudged Juliet forward a step. “But first, Juliet, may I present my brother, Gilroy. Gilroy,this is Miss Juliet Thomson.”
The snarl didn’t recede from Gilroy’s lips as he poured a large splash of the amber liquid into his tumbler. Without getting to his feet, he shifted his gaze off of Evan to Juliet. “Delighted.” He raised the glass to her and swallowed the whole of it with another tilt of his head.
“Ev, can I speak with you?” the earl called from across the room.
Evan looked over his shoulder. “Yes.” He glanced at her. “You’ll excuse me?”
“Of course.” She pasted a serene smile on her lips even as her toes itched to turn away from his brother. She stifled a sigh. She’d promised Evan docile in front of his grandfather, so of course, he’d leave her with the mess of his drunk brother.
No bother, she’d tackled men like him far too often at the Den.
She studied the flickers of light bouncing off the man sitting in front of her. The difference from brother to brother was striking. Hard to soft. Evan was hard angles and huge brawn. Gilroy was small and all soft features. Even the line of Gilroy’s nose was smooth, rounded. The darkness of Evan’s brown hair and stubble juxtaposed against the pale skin and light blond hair of Gilroy.
Just as she studied him, he stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Silent. So long it became uncomfortable, and she was more than accustomed to men staring at her in macabre silence.
She cleared her throat. “You are not what I was expecting in Evan’s brother.”
His chest lifted in a scoff. “No? Why not?”
She shrugged, her fingers flipping over her shoulder to where Evan sat in a chair across from his grandfather, listening intently to whatever the earl was telling him. “It is just that I imagined his brother to be much like him. He did mention you were twins so I thought you would be more akin.”
His hand holding the tumbler slammed onto the table with such force a crack ran up the side of the glass. “You mean my size?”
“No, it’s just—”
Gilroy jumped to his feet, swayed, and then struck his hand out across the table, sending the decanter and the tumbler crashing off the table and shattering onto the stone floor. “Evan didn’t tell ye? He ate away at me in the womb, killed our mother.” He pulled himself straight and she found him not but a hair taller than her. His blurry light eyes couldn’t quite focus on her. “Lucky he didn’t kill me as well. He took all the strength and left me with this.” His hands swept up and down his own body. “This.”
Her foot jabbed a step backward as her head snapped away from him.
Never back down from a drunk.She knew that. Knew it well. But the torrent of rage coming off this man was suffocating.
