The Heart of a Duke(34)

His brother’s unguarded flicker of surprise passed, and a look of detached impassivity veiled his features. Time hung suspended as they took each other’s measure, assessing the similarities and differences the years had wrought.

Edmund had settled into the room’s leather armchair, one long leg crossed over the other, his leather gloves on the nearby table and a snifter of the amber cognac in his hand. Daniel found it disconcerting to see his own features mirrored back at him, but their resemblance ended there, for his brother was no longer the whipcord-thin, angled young man that Daniel remembered. Like himself, a decade had etched its changes into Edmund.

The man before him wore his dark hair short, his starched white neck cloth as stiff as his posture, his raven-black custom-tailored clothes like a second skin. He had the pale skin of a life spent indoors, the telltale sign of a pampered aristocrat. In contrast, his eyes were hard and locked on Daniel with a cold and calculating look that Daniel knew well.

Disdain dripped from his brother. “So it is true. Lazarus has risen from the dead. I did not think you would ever return. And yet here you are.”

“And all these years I did not think you had ever given me a thought. And yet you did.” Daniel shrugged. “Guess we were both proved wrong. If I believed you truly cared, I would be touched, but I know otherwise.” He let the door swing shut behind him.

“I see you have adopted the insolence that is common in the American colonials.”

“And the pleasantries are dispensed with. Give me my bloody room key back.”

“You always were proprietary about your possessions. Then, so am I.” He gave Daniel a hard look. “But we will get to that momentarily. A drink might take the edge off your impatience. That has not changed either. You are still like a skittish colt, never could stand still.” He leaned forward and poured Daniel a snifter.

Daniel’s restlessness was a legacy left over from years of being poised for flight. At the mention of possessions, his gaze circled his room, his jaw clenching at the signs of his books and papers having been shuffled around and thumbed through. Edmund always had trespassing fingers. Irritated, Daniel snatched the snifter Edmund offered, careful to avoid touching him. He noted the bottle was already two-thirds drained. Edmund had been here awhile. “What do you want?”

Edmund cocked an imperious brow and sipped his cognac, the ducal seal flashing on his middle finger. “I think the question to be asked is, what do you want? What brings you home after years of avoiding our sceptered isle? There is nothing for you here. Lakeview Manor is gone. You do not hold the title, which you have apparently forgotten since your return.” He took another drink when Daniel remained silent.

“Have you returned for my nuptials? I understand you have learned I am to marry our neighbor, Lady Julia Chandler. You remember Julia? The homely swallow has transformed into an elegant swan. But you know that, too. Who would have thought it? She was such a wild thing, always tromping in the woods saving some pathetic wounded creature.” He snorted before continuing.

“She is quite tamed now, and seeing how lovely the years have been to her, I could not let her fly away. Not when I have a need of a wife, preferably a country bird who will nest at home, while I roost in the city. The arrangement suited me, being neighbors and all. Her family and eventually our own should keep her occupied, and more important, out of my business.”

Daniel sneered. “Why bother with a wife? You should acquire a dog. It sounds like you are training your wife to be a tamed breeder.” Disgust laced his words. “You don’t know Julia if you honestly believe you can plant her in the background of your life like some decorative lawn statue.”

Edmund’s nostrils flared, the only sign Daniel’s barb had hit its mark, for Edmund continued in that deceptively calm manner of his. “Yes, news of her recent activities have been brought to my attention, and it appears she still possesses a wild streak. I attribute it to the bad company she has been keeping of late. Nothing I cannot remedy, and I look forward to reining her in.” He lifted his glass in a toast, a picture of ruthless nobility.

It took Daniel some time to find his voice, for Edmund had always known where to land his punches. This one went straight to his sternum, temporarily winding Daniel. “You bastard. You goddamn bastard.” He stormed to the door and whipped it open. “Get out. We are finished. For Julia’s sake, I had hoped to talk to you. About the estate. About the tenants. I had hopes that you might have changed. Had matured and learned to listen. But you are still the same. Not worth my time.”