Unable to believe his ears, Charles stared at his brother.
Lord Norwood’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Did Charles not shoot the arrow? When we came upon you, he was holding the bow in his hand.”
Straightening to his full height, Robert raised his head. “He took it from me. In fact, the only reason he was out there was to try to stop me. It was my idea. The bow and arrows are mine as well. I have been practising for a while now, and when Charles found out, he told me I was not to continue. However, I did not listen.” He took a deep breath. “I know I should have. I did not mean to hurt Mr. Punham. It was an accident.” He glanced at his brother. “Do not punish him. He is merely trying to protect me.”
For a moment, Lord Norwood remained silent, glancing back and forth between his sons, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is that true?” he finally asked, looking at Charles.
Feeling the blood drain from his face once more, Charles didn’t know what to say. He glanced at his brother, stammering unintelligibly.
Nodding his head imperceptibly, Robert’s eyes urged him to agree.
“Well, I…” He took a deep breath and then looked at his father. “Yes, it is.”
“I see.” For a moment, Lord Norwood’s eyes lingered on his younger son before they moved to Robert. “In this case, it is you who will remain at Bridgemoore for the summer, and you will remain indoors and study.” Robert swallowed. “You do not set a foot outside, am I under-stood?”
Robert drew in a sharp breath before nodding his head. “Yes, father.”
Returning to the seat behind his desk, Lord Norwood bid them to leave. “Oh, and Charles? Although it is noble to want to protect your brother, I would strongly advise against lying to your father! Is that clear?”
Charles nodded, then followed his brother out into the hall. The second the door closed be-hind them, he pulled Robert back. “Why did you do that? It was my fault. I shot Mr. Punham.”
Robert shrugged. “That may be so, but the only reason you were out there was because I did not give you a choice.”
“That’s not true,” Charles disagreed. “I could have just left. You did not force me to pick up the bow.”
“Maybe not, but I distracted you.” When Charles opened his mouth to protest, Robert lifted a hand to stop him. “Leave it be, Charles. Go to London, see that stupid stone of yours, and who knows, a day may come when I need you to protect me.” Smiling, Robert clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder then turned around and walked down the corridor.
Charles simply stared after him, for the first time understanding the true meaning of brotherhood.
Chapter One − A Brother's Return
Fifteen Years Later
Breathing in the early night air, Robert Dashwood looked up at the looming structure of Bridgemoore Manor. It had been years since he had been here. Not since his father had died and passed on his title to him.
The very sight of his childhood home made his insides quiver. Memories resurfaced of careless days spent in leisure with his brother, with his friends. A smile drew up the corners of his mouth as he remembered the many days he had spent in detention, punishment for yet another reckless deed he had felt compelled to do. Those days had been good; yet, the moment he had come of age, Robert had left, his feet trembling with the need to get away and see the world.
Title or no, Robert knew that if it hadn’t been for Charles’ note, he would never have come home.
Climbing the front stairs with long strides, he entered the house, silence hanging like cob-webs in every corner. At least as children, their own voices had sent echoes through the house. Now, it lay almost dead, like one of Charles’ old, dusty books.
Knowing with absolute certainty where he would find his brother, Robert made his way across the marble hall and down the west corridor until he reached his father’s old study. Again, a rueful smile came to his face. How many times had he stood outside these very doors waiting for his father to call him inside and shake his head at him for yet another unwise decision?
But, not today.
His hand only hesitating for a moment, Robert slid open the door and stepped inside, his careful footsteps all but silent on the parquet floor. After his eyes had adjusted to the rather dim light, he found himself staring across the room at his father’s old desk, his brother sitting in its leather armchair, quill in hand, head bent over some papers.
For a moment, Robert just looked at him, a smile curling his lips. In a strange way, he felt transported through time as though he was a young boy again, and the man behind the desk was his father. While Charles and his father had always shared the basic characteristics of their personality, Robert had often felt like an outsider to their shared interests. Never had he been able to relate to what brought them such joy.
Still, he felt a deep connection to his brother, and for the first time, Robert was glad he had come home.
“Squint anymore, and I’m sure you’ll go blind.”
At the sound of his voice, Charles’ head snapped up, his eyes growing wide as he beheld his mirror image standing by the door. “Robert!” he exclaimed, almost jumping to his feet. Rounding the desk, a delighted smile on his face, Charles came toward him. “A part of me thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, drawing him into his arms. “It is so good to see you.”
For a moment, Robert closed his eyes, savouring his brother’s embrace and all the emotions it elicited. Then he stood back. “You cannot truly believe I would miss my little brother getting married. What sort of man do you take me for?”
“The worst kind.” Shaking his head, Charles laughed. “Look at you! You look like a pirate. When was the last time you cut your hair?”
Compared to Charles’ rather stylish crop, Robert wore his auburn hair long and tied in the back, a perfect match to his loose-fitting clothes. “What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold.”
Charles laughed. “Do I dare ask what you have been doing?”
“I’m sure you don’t want to know.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Charles admitted. “Frankly, your escapades are well known all over London. Did you know they’ve earned you the rather flattering nickname of ‘Notorious Nor-wood’?” Again, Charles shook his head; an amused smile seemed to tickle the corners of his mouth. “I generally tend to turn a deaf ear.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Robert confirmed, not daring to be any more specific. If his brother only knew half of what he had done, he would have turned deep red at the very sight of him. Maybe London knew a lot less than it thought. “So? You’re getting married tomorrow. Isn’t that a bit soon?” He winked at his brother. “Is there a reason you’re rushing this wedding?”
Charles shook his head at him again. To Robert, it seemed like all Charles ever did was shake his head at him. “I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from any such comments with regard to my fiancée. For your information, we have been engaged since last season. Was it my fault I had such trouble tracking you down? You have not changed in the least.”
“I saw no need.” A devilish smile drew up the corners of his mouth, and Robert saw its effects on his brother’s face long before he spoke again. “After all, in my experience the ladies generally do not merely want the saint, but a little bit of the sinner as well.” He shrugged, enjoying the slightly shocked expression on his brother’s face. “And you know me, I hate to disappoint.”
Slowly, the shock fell from Charles’ face and was replaced by a rather indulgent smile. Once again, Robert felt like a young boy being called into his father’s study. “You truly have not changed,” his brother repeated. Turning to the liquor cabinet, he filled two glasses, offering one to him.
Downing it in one gulp, Robert cleared his throat. “So? Who is the lucky woman?” he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.
“Lady Isabella Carrington.”
“Lord Gadbury’s daughter?”
Charles nodded. “The eldest.”
“I do
n’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.” Pouring himself another drink, Robert settled into one of the armchairs by the window front, gesturing for his brother to follow. “Tell me about her.”
Taking a seat, Charles smiled. “She is indeed very amiable and possesses all the qualities of a lady.”
Robert chuckled. “You truly sound enthusiastic, brother. How did you meet?”
“At the British Museum.”
Robert groaned, hearing his worst fears realised.
“She, too, was engrossed with the most recent Egyptian artefacts,” Charles elaborated, a slightly disapproving look in his eyes as he looked at his brother.
“This truly sounds like a love match,” Robert teased, unable to stop himself.
Lips pressed into a thin line, Charles eyed him with displeasure. “And what would you know about love? Believe me, although I tried not to, it has been nearly impossible not to know how you’ve spent the last few years. More than once, I’ve heard the whispers that follow you. From what I can gather, you’ve never spent more than a few days in the company of one woman.”
Again, Robert chuckled as memories surfaced that would have Charles faint on the spot. “Yes, but I always thought you were different. As dedicated as you are to your dusty, old books, I always thought that one day, you’d find a woman you’d be equally dedicated to. Instead, you seem to have found one who shares your dedication to…,” he gestured at the tall bookcases lining the far wall of the study, “those.” This time, it was Robert who shook his head at his brother. “Quite frankly, I can’t wait to meet her. She seems to be your other half.”
Downing his drink, Charles set down the glass with a loud clank. “What do you want, Robert? Certainly, even you can see the advantage in choosing one’s wife based on common interests. You can’t truly believe that to be wrong?”
Seeing the pulse hammering in his brother’s throat, Robert lifted his hands in a gesture of truce. “Far be it from me to oppose your match.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused on his brother’s face. “But to be frank, you sound more taken with the old Egyptian trinkets than your future wife. The real question is does she get your heart pounding?”
Charles huffed. “In what way is that relevant?”
Robert laughed. “If she did, you’d know why.” Clearing his throat, Robert took a swig from his glass. “I really did not mean any disrespect but was merely curious what kind of woman had captured your attention.”
Looking rather annoyed, Charles eyed him carefully. “She is well-read in history, which means we are never at a loss for words in the other’s company. Also, her demeanour speaks of a courteous and noble character, and she will, I am certain, represent our family with grace. Even though she is a few years younger than I am, she is not childish in the least but behaves with the utmost respect toward anyone in her presence. Upon meeting her, I am certain you will believe so yourself.”
“Dear Brother, I never meant to suggest that she was not worthy of our family or of you.” All teasing left Robert’s voice, and his eyes became serious as they looked into his brother’s. “I simply meant to ensure that you have indeed chosen wisely.”
“Wisely, brother? And what would you know of choosing a wife?” Charles laughed, once more shaking his head. “Am I mistaken, or are you still looking for the future Lady Norwood?”
Robert chuckled. The mere thought seemed ludicrous. “I have no intention of ever marrying. I thought you knew that.”
“You cannot be serious,” Charles objected, quite honestly stunned by his brother’s words. “What about your title? You need an heir.”
“An heir?” Robert laughed. The life that his parents had lived, the life that Charles and his new bride were about to embark upon was the very life that would have him running for the hills within a few days. He was not made for a settled life. He knew that, and he wouldn’t do anyone any favours if he pretended differently. “Why would I worry about an heir? There are much more important and, quite frankly, much more amusing things in life.” He winked at Charles, who looked almost scandalised. “And besides, I always thought you’d make a much better viscount than I ever could.”
Again, Charles stared at him, for a moment too stunned to say anything. “You cannot be serious?”
Robert shrugged, the need to lighten the mood tucking up the corners of his mouth. “I rarely am. However, today I’ll make an exception.”
“Robert, you cannot−”
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. In a few days, I’ll be gone again. Let us enjoy what time we have together.” Rising from his chair, Robert refilled his drink. “To you and your perfect match,” he said, raising his glass. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Charles. If anyone deserves it, it is you. I am sure you chose well, and that she will make you happy.”
A touched smile playing on his lips, Charles approached him. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome, Brother.”
Chapter Two − A Perfect Match
Seeing her own face in the mirror, Isabella sighed. As her eyes travelled downward, taking in the elegant wedding dress that had once been her mother’s, a small lump settled in her throat, and her hands began to tremble.
Today was the day.
Her wedding day.
After all her careful planning, she was finally here. She had found the man who would make her a fine husband, who would respect and honour her, who cared about her mind as much as he cared about her heart. A man she could share her passion for history with, who knew well the desire to understand foreign cultures and who she could spend entire afternoons with, their noses hidden in a book and enjoy the peaceful silence that simply existed between two like-minded people. Did he ever dream of travelling to these foreign places like she did? Isabella wondered. She didn't know, but there would be plenty of time to find that out.
She had chosen well.
“Why are you marrying him?” Adriana’s voice cut into Isabella’s musings. “He is so dull.”
“Shush,” their mother chided. “This is your sister’s wedding day. Do not ruin it for her.”
From the corner of her eye, Isabella saw Adriana take a step back, shaking her head. She all but felt her sister’s disapproving eyes glide over her as though she had agreed to marry her worst enemy. “If you think him dull, you must think me dull as well,” she said, trying to ignore the sting her sister’s words had caused. “And yet, it would only prove that we suit each other.”
For a long moment, Adriana didn’t say a word. Nonetheless, Isabella’s skin began to crawl as though she was just about to be found out and revealed a liar; as if her sister’s eyes could see through her outer shell and into her core.
A place not even Isabella dared to look.
“There,” her mother whispered, dropping the veil she had been working on. “You can hardly see where it was ripped.” A radiant smile on her face, her mother looked over Isabella’s shoulder, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “You are a most beautiful bride, mi corazon.”
Turning to face her mother, Isabella felt her own lips curl up. “Thank you for everything.” Hugging her mother tight, she met her sister’s calculating gaze and closed her eyes determined to ignore it.
Stepping back, her mother dabbed her eyes. “I’d better go and see to your father.” She gazed at her daughter, and her eyes once more took on a dream-like expression like someone lost in a memory, seeing something no one else could, and the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile. “How beautiful you are,” she whispered before she turned and left the room.
The moment the door closed behind their mother, Adriana came to life. “I implore you, Isabella, think about what you’re doing. He is not the right man for you.”
Isabella sighed, praying for strength. “You’ve been saying this for weeks now. Why won’t you understand? He quite obviously is not the right man for you, but he is for me. Why can you not accept that?” Looking at Adr
iana, Isabella tried to glimpse what had caused her sister’s stern insistence that marrying Charles was a mistake; for the longer it lasted the more rattled Isabella felt. “Please explain to me why you think he is not the right man for me!” she asked, feeling the last bit of patience slip through her fingers. “You cannot possibly be speaking from personal experience for I do not see a ring on your finger.”
An indulgent smile on her face, Adriana shook her head. “And you won’t until I find it.”
“It?” Isabella asked, avoiding her sister’s eyes by busying herself with arranging and re-arranging her skirt. This discussion made her quite uncomfortable−as always.
“Love,” Adriana whispered as if there could be no question. “True love. The kind Mother and Father have.”
Isabella snorted. “Do not be absurd.”
Brows drawn down, Adriana stepped toward her. “You do not believe that Mother and Father share a true love?”
Isabella shrugged. “I believe they love each other. I do. Yet, I can count the couples that I have seen gazing upon each other the way Mother and Father do on one hand.” Meeting her sister’s eyes, she shook her head. “The love they have is rare. What are the odds of all of us finding it in a mere lifetime? No, I’d rather marry a man I can respect, a man who is a friend, than wait for someone who may not even exist?”
“Who may not even exist?” Adriana echoed, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Have you never felt it? Not once?”
“Felt what? A mild infatuation that cools as soon as the sun rises on the next day?” Isabella smiled at her little sister. “No, I’ve made my choice. You cannot sway me from my path.”
“I only hope you will not come to regret it,” Adriana whispered. “For even these mild infatuations as you call them have the strength to set your world on fire even if it is just for a day or a week. And besides, how do you know they’ll cool? Who knows? Maybe one day, you will meet someone special, and the very sight of him will turn your knees into pudding and set free an armada of butterflies in your belly. What if that happens and you find yourself married already? What will you do then?”