“What have you been scheming?” Porter asked again.
I watched as all the pieces I’d lined up were moved around. My frustration mounted as I rearranged the puzzle and tried to come up with something that worked. But with my brother staring at me disapprovingly, the answer became hard to reach. We swept past the lobby, and I took the stairs two at a time, desperation making me pump my legs faster and faster.
“Tell me about your wife,” he said, panting. “I’ve been curious.”
“She cares for me,” I said hollowly.
“That’s unfortunate.”
When I made it onto our floor, I breathed easier. His words bounced around in my mind, giving me a headache. I was standing in front of our room before I had entirely realized what I was doing. I didn’t know why I’d come up, but even so, I pulled the key from out of my pocket and unlocked the door, pushed it open. “Wait here,” I said curtly.
“Whitford, what are you doing?”
I barely heard him. The room was empty. I thought she would still be sleeping.
Porter poked his head inside. “Is this a bedroom or a storage closet?”
Where could she have gone so early? She and her infernal sister. My brother stepped into the room, and I felt, rather than saw, how he assessed every inch.
“Good gad! Do you sleep on this cot?” Porter exclaimed. “It looks uncomfortable.”
“Let’s go,” I said, thinking hard. Inez could be out for a walk on the terrace. Wouldn’t I have seen her, though? She was hard to miss, with her wild hair and quick stride.
“You care for this girl,” my brother said in a marveling tone. “Your wife.”
“If I did,” I said, “I wouldn’t have married her.”
He studied me from the corner of his eye. I felt his judgment, his desperation. I understood why he came all this way. But I wouldn’t yield.
“Whitford.”
“I’m going to follow through with my promise,” I snapped. “I’m going to do my duty as their heir. Surely more time isn’t too much to ask?”
Porter’s stoic veneer cracked, and I took a step forward in alarm. “Arabella doesn’t have time. They’re signing the marriage contract at the end of the week. She’ll be married intwo weeks—to Lord Fartherington.”
I froze, the full meaning of his words cutting through my defense. I’d held up a shield to counter him guilting me into action. One of his favorite tactics—that and telling me I had to fall in line because I was the younger son. But I had no armor against Arabella. I knew my parents were at their wits’ end. I knew Father’s collectors would come calling. I’d also known, for years, that my father was deplorable at poker. But I’d forgotten how desperation made monsters of men. “Fartherington?He’s ancient. At least two decades older than Father.”
“Now that you understand the gravity of the situation, you have a choice to make.” Porter met my eyes. Instead of his usual poise, he let me see his raw fear for our sister.
There were many things I’d had to learn how to handle.
My parents’ disappointment.
An arranged marriage.
A career, bought and paid for.
A gun.
But when my older brother, as infuriating as he was, allowed me to see beneath his impenetrable veneer, I paid attention. It always meant that he was afraid. Andneverfor himself.
It was this look on his face that made me think: time for a new plan. I pulled at my hair, my heart slamming against my ribs. I wanted a drink. I wanted oblivion. I didn’t want any of this to happen. “I hate you.”
Porter waited, one eyebrow raised. “Choose, brother.”
CAPÍTULO OCHO
I could tell Isadora liked the dining room. Her attention flickered from the glossy flatware to the plush rugs, the sparkling glasses and satiny tablecloth. She faced me from across the table, her posture straight and not touching the back of the chair. For years, my mother had tried to ensure I’d do the same. There were other little things that telegraphed we were both raised by the same woman. Isadora wore her hair in the style my mother liked, braided and coiled at the crown of the head, a few delicate strands grazing her cheekbones. She kept her elbows off the table and both feet planted on the ground. My mother and Isadora knew how to sit still while I never did, constantly fidgeting, playing with my wineglass, tapping my toes against the floor.
