of them has ever given a . . . bloody damn about what happens to you until now, and suddenly they show up offering you a debut in good society? Mark my words, they have some ulterior motive.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
Somehow she had to get her and Joshua out of this place, find somewhere more secure, where he could flourish. . . where she could flourish. Because right now they were dying a slow, miserable death amid the debris of Papa’s scandalous actions and Joshua’s deep wounds.
She was so sick of it. “Are you saying you won’t approve the scheme?”
The bleak anger in his hazel eyes made her want to cry. To her surprise, he said, “Of course I’ll approve it.”
She threw her arms about his neck, unable to keep from touching him. “Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re the best brother ever!”
Though he stiffened a bit, he didn’t push her away as he usually did. But he did say gruffly, “It isn’t as if you’re giving me much of a choice.”
She hugged him close. “I always give you a choice, Brother. As long as you make the right one.”
When she drew back, he was actually smiling. “I swear, duckie, you are growing up too fast.”
He hadn’t called her “duckie” in an age. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not only fully grown but rapidly approaching spinsterhood.”
“Nonsense. Any man with eyes can see you’re a diamond of the first water.”
“A diamond in the rough, perhaps,” she quipped. “And apparently, only blind men live around here.”
“Except our cousins, right?” Before she could answer, he added, “Very well, go on out into the great, wide world. I shan’t stop you.”
“You could accompany us to London,” she said on a breath. “I’m sure our aunt wouldn’t mind. And you deserve to be out in society, too.”
He scowled. “There is no way in hell I’m going near that cesspool. And trust me, no one wants me there, poking at all their pretensions.” He shoved his free hand in his coat pocket. “You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll have more fun without me. Just . . . well, I hope you’ll return here occasionally once you’ve taken some fine fellow for a husband.”
“I’ll be here so often you’ll be sick of me,” she said.
Still, she earnestly hoped that her “fine fellow” of a husband could help her discover a better post for her brother. One that made use of his education and experience and banished the sorrow in his eyes.
Because he deserved better. And by God, so did she.
* * *
Grey stood outside the gate to the kennel, noting the sounds of dogs barking as Miss Wolfe greeted each by name. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her and her brother. He’d come looking for her partly out of restlessness and partly out of a desire to get started on Sheridan’s damned assignment.
But then he’d overheard them arguing and had figured he might as well find out what he could, if only to pacify Sheridan. Grey had met Wolfe at the funeral, but he’d only had the chance to notice a few things. Wolfe was better-looking and more gentlemanly in appearance than Grey had expected, given his profession. Sheridan hadn’t been wrong about Wolfe’s arms, either—the major was built like a wrestler. He might walk with a cane, but it clearly didn’t keep him from working with his hands. And he was tall, too, though Grey had anticipated that since Beatrice wasn’t exactly short.
Still, other than noting aspects of Wolfe’s appearance, Grey had gleaned little, since he and the major had scarcely spoken two words to each other.
At least eavesdropping had elicited a bit more information. Grey hadn’t been able to make out the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough to determine that Miss Wolfe was concerned for her future. And rightfully so, since Wolfe was apparently going out at night to places he wouldn’t speak of to his sister.
But despite that and the major’s general crankiness, Wolfe didn’t seem the sort to fight for the dukedom. Nor did he sound like the reckless, half-mad fellow Sheridan had described. Wolfe certainly didn’t seem interested in murdering four men to inherit.
Miss Wolfe spoke from inside the kennel yard, “All right, lads, time for our walk.”
Holy hell. They were coming out. Grey didn’t want her to catch him lurking about like a servant listening at doors.
Feeling like an idiot, he retreated a short way down the hill, then waited until the kennel door opened before he retraced his steps up the hill toward her.
She emerged with three leashed pointers and shut the door behind them. Then she bent to say, in a girlish voice, “Now don’t tell Mr. MacTilly, but we’re going to have a fine run without these leashes, aren’t we?”
Caught off guard by her tone, Grey paused to watch as she continued to speak sweet nothings to the dogs while she unfastened the first leash.
He’d seen her shrewish and he’d seen her subservient, but he hadn’t yet seen her gentle. It twisted something inside his chest, making him uneasy.
When she went on to the next dog, she put her back to him and bent in a way that showcased her lovely bottom. Damn it all to hell. Her simple gown of black wool skimmed it provocatively. Ah, how he would love to put his hands on that luscious, full derriere.
To the last dog, she said, “None of that misbehavior you showed last time, do you hear me, Hercules? You’ll be a good boy for Beatrice, won’t you? I know you will, you darling rascal.”
As Grey’s loins clenched, he had the errant thought, Ah, yes, Miss Wolfe, I will be a very good boy for you. Just try me.
He wondered what she’d be like in bed, with her soft hands and full mouth caressing him. Or perhaps she’d turn fiery as she had the day they’d met, and she’d rise to meet his every thrust, wrapping those long legs about his hips as they—
God help him, what was he thinking?
Fortunately, just then the dogs rushed off down the hill and she turned to see him approaching.
She blushed deeply. “Your Grace.” Nervously she glanced back at the closed door, and lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” he said as he reached her. “Sheridan told me you would most likely be at the kennels, and someone directed me to them.”
To you. And your very fetching behind.
Good God, he must get that image of her bottom out of his head. He felt as off-kilter as the hounds, who dashed madly down the hill, then back up, trying to coax her into following.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. One of the hounds came up to nuzzle her hand, and she scratched his head idly. “Does Aunt Lydia need me?”
Her mention of his mother dampened his desire at once. “No. She’s taking today to rest, thank God.”
An instant wariness darkened her features,
