“Look who has come home, Gray,” Lady Isla said.
Her brother’s head snapped upright.
Tavish nearly chuckled as he watched a series of emotions flicker across the duke’s face—curiosity, shock, horror, before finally settling on fury.
Given that Grayburn was usually the picture of sangfroid made the entire display even more delightful. As ever, the duke’s temper flared when he had to interact with a Balfour.
Some things remained as predictable as the tides.
Grayburn stopped at his sister’s side. Unlike Lady Isla, his features were sharp. As if God took a chisel and hammer to a block of graniteto form him—knocking off great slabs to create large eyes under a stern brow ridge, the thick slash of wide cheekbones, and a patrician nose.
That His Grace’s nose sported a permanent bump courtesy of Callum’s fist only added to the charm in Tavish’s view.
The duke gave him a slow up and down—a sort of contemptuous, pitying appraisal. Surely Grayburn noted the three subtle repairs in Tavish’s greatcoat—neat stitches done by his own hand during the days and weeks of mindless nothing between battles. Tavish might be an earl’s son, but there had been little money for over a decade now.
“Balfour.” Like his sister, Grayburn did not dip his head in greeting. “Same as ever, I see.”
His words dripped with decades of derision. Generations, really, of spite and animosity.
Once, Tavish might have reacted to the slight.
But seven years of war—of watching friends blown apart in cannon fire, of hearing the shrieks and cries of the dying in his dreams at night—had tempered him.
Unlike the boy he had been, he now knew when to draw a sword, literal or proverbial. He would not spend energy fighting unless it became necessary.
“Grayburn,” Tavish returned. “Out surveying enemy territory? Plotting your attack, perhaps?” He might not draw a weapon, but needling an enemy was a well-proved battle tactic.
Predictably, Grayburn stiffened, his eyes drawing down in a murderous manner.
Ah.
Cairnfell still struck a nerve, it seemed.
It was common knowledge that Grayburn wanted Cairnfell for his own, which likely explained His Grace’s presence today. The large hill—the common origin of their two families—rested between their estates.
The fell had passed between their families several times over the years. The most recent exchange had occurred just over fifty years ago, when Tavish’s grandfather had won Cairnfell from Grayburn’s grandfather in a game of faro. Locals referred to the incident as the “Infamous Jack of Hearts” after the winning card. Northcairn had declared it adivine message from God, blessing his ownership of Cairnfell. Grayburn stormed out, shouting allegations of cheating.
The current Grayburn wanted revenge for this past slight and aimed to reacquire Cairnfell for his half of the family.
His Grace drew in a slow breath and darted a sideways glance at his sister. Tavish could practically see a vitriolic response clinging to the duke’s tongue, but ever the gentleman, he refused to release it in a lady’s presence.
“I was unaware you had cashed out of your regiment, Balfour,” Grayburn parried instead. “Or, at least, I suppose you cashed out.”
The implication being that Tavish was somehow stripped of his captaincy and tossed out on his ear.
“Aye, well, with the French Menace having been resolved at Waterloo, the army has been aggressively reducing the number of troops. I had a chance to sell on my commission, and I took it.”
“He is a captain now, Gray . . . Captain Balfour.” Isla gave her brother a tight smile.
Grayburn’s eyes never left Tavish’s face. He had the impression that the duke would bite off his own tongue before calling Tavish anything other than anunmitigated bastard.
“Sister, please return down the trail to the carriage. I shall join you in a moment. But first, I would like a private word withMr.Balfour.”
Even Isla raised an eyebrow at Grayburn’s deliberate slight.
“As you wish. Though do not be long.” She gave Tavish a pensive look before turning away.
Grayburn watched until she disappeared into the trees before whirling back to Tavish. “I thought my instructions were exquisitely clear the last time I conversed with you.”
