I used the opportunity to study the long lines of his neck, peeking out from above his cravat. This man… He was every bit as intoxicating as he had been the first time I met him. As mesmerizing as he had been every time I’d studied him since. This night, these twenty-seven minutes in this office… It was everything I’d wished for from the moment I first set eyes on him.
“Well?”
My tongue darted out between my suddenly dry lips. “If you could wish for one thing, what would it be?”
“That?” he sputtered. “That is what you want to know? I thought you would ask me my favorite color perhaps, or worse, something scandalous.”
“I already know your favorite color—not that I particularly care about colors anyway. And I’m saving the scandalous questions for when you’ve finished more of your drink.”
“And what, precisely, is my favorite color?”
“Black.”
“Wrong,” he retorted, twisting his lips to one side thoughtfully. Everything about him was fascinating. He was so expressive. I wanted to memorize each change to his visage, to learn what they all meant.
“What is it then?”
“No, you had your chance for that answer.” He stretched out, legs reaching toward the fire. A sardonic curve slipped across his lips. “I would wish for Gabriel.”
My stomach dropped, twisting with jealousy. Desperate to press the knife a little deeper into my heart, I asked, “Who is Gabriel?”
“My brother.”
The evil demon that had momentarily taken root inside me loosened its hold, replaced with a swirl of relief. His heart wasn’t already claimed—at least not by Gabriel.
He continued, “The title should have been his.”
And then the true extent of my doltishness revealed itself. His brother was gone.
Guiltily, I asked, “You were close?”
“Oh, Lord no. And to be quite honest, he would’ve been a terrible duke. At least before he married Cee. She tamed him a bit.” Now I remembered. Lady Rycliffe—the French widow Michael had taken up with.
“Then why would you?—”
“Wish for him? I suppose it’s not really a wish for his presence as much as a wish for someone else to be me. For Mother and Dav, even Celine, to be someone else’s responsibility. To walk away from it all. I’m the second son. I wasn’t built for a dukedom.”
“I don’t think it works like that. Firstborn sons are not born with innate leadership qualities.” At least, Hugh hadn’t been. Not that he was father’s firstborn. But he was the first legitimate son.
“I know, but sometimes it’s all I can do to stay here, chaperoning the chaperone, shuffling Mother away from the worst of the gossips, paying Davina’s way out of whatever mischief she’s found today. Gabriel was a notorious gambler and a degenerate. Years before he died, he won an estate in Scotland off some baron or other. And he gifted it to me, as a present with some flimsy excuse. I’ve never even laid eyes on it, but some days I wake up and I can almost taste the crisp Scottish air.”
He’d gone wistful, far away.
“Is the air in Scotland particularly crisp?” I asked, drawing him back to me.
“I’ve no idea. That’s hardly the point.”
“No, I know. I just… I understand what you mean. My family is less prone to scandal—actually, no. That’s a lie. They are merely less frequent with it. But my elder brothers, oil and water. I’ve spent my entire life—until recently—acting as an amicable buffer. And my mother… Well, at least yours means well.”
“Do you ever want to run away?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat and propping the empty glass on his knee. One corner of his mouth was pulled up curiously.
“I hadn’t considered it before. I’m lucky, I suppose. I have bachelor lodgings. But my brothers both found wives.”
“And you don’t like their wives?” he asked.
“I adore their wives. But they’re sickeningly happy. And I want that. I want to fall in love. I want to be able to reach out and brush a lock of hair off the forehead of the ma—person I love. And my brothers, they know they’re lucky, that they don’t deserve their wives. But they don’t realize what a privilege it is… A gift, to wake up every morning next to the person you love. And not everyone receives such a gift.”
“And you don’t think you’ll have that?” His question was barely a breath.
