“So was I.” Rayne lifted his brows. “As for thinking clearly, I probably was not. I confess I thinkdifferentlywhen she’s near.”
Bromton chuckled. “I understand, my friend.”
The years they’d known each other were reflected in Bromton’s expression.So many years.
“Am I?” Rayne swallowed. “Your friend, I mean?”
“I’d like to think so. And I admit, by sending you away, I did you both a grave wrong.”
“No.” Rayne shook his head. “I needed to go away—both for Julia and for myself. She would have regretted not having a season, and I—I learned a great deal in New York.”
Bromton searched his gaze. “Will you stay?”
Rayne nodded.
“She’d be happier if she feels free to see her sister.”
Rayne frowned. “She may do as she pleases, of course.”
“And you—are you averse to visiting us from time to time?”
Rayne hadn’t known—hadn’t even guessed how deeply the break between them still wounded. “Are you saying I’m welcome again?”
“Laithe”—Bromton called him by his boyhood name—“we were brothers. I’ve missed you.”
A strange, prickling sensation passed over his scalp. He waited for the fitful feeling to pass. “Am I forgiven, then?”
“A little forgiveness would help all around. The fact is, you told the truth—and if I had done the same, none of this would have happened.” Bromton sighed. “You were…pained. And no—I can’t take credit for that bit of insight.”
“Sounds like Julia. Devilishly perceptive, my wife.”
Bromton chuckled. “You should get to know her sister.”
Rayne’s prickling sensation returned. He’d an odd vision of them all together—and, to his surprise, the vision was not at all unpleasant.
Rayne swallowed. “I’d like that.”
Bromton turned away—but he’d seen Bromton’s mirrored response in the way his eyes had sheened. Brothers.
“Whathappened, Brom?”
“About time I explained, no?” Bromton poured them both a drink and began. “The story starts with the fourth marquess and a ruthless desire for an heir…”
Rayne listened with sympathetic horror as Bromton unraveled the reasons behind his abrupt change in character and priorities, how they had led to the bet that had ended in his betrothal to Katherine and, eventually, to his own realization that he’d fallen in love and that only he could define his fate.
“So you see,” Bromton finished, “I wish I’d told Katherine the truth about everything from the start. But even more—I wish I’d had the courage to set aside my shame and tell both you and Clarissa the real reason I broke my longstanding agreement to wed.”
The last of Rayne’s scotch burned down his throat. “You didn’t want Clarissa to be shamed if the truth came out.”
Bromton nodded. “We hadn’t a sincere attachment. I thought I should bear the lie alone.”
Though the circumstances were vastly different, Rayne had thought much the same.
“Another?” Bromton asked.
“No, though I appreciate the offer.” He needed his wits.
Bromton set down his glass. “When I was the image of the man I believed to be my father, you looked up to me… Now, I’ve been humbled—”
