Held by his solid strength, she realized she was trembling. He pressed her cheek against his chest, and she didn’t resist.
His voice was like rough velvet against her ear. “One day, you are going to trust me.”
“It’s not about trusting you?—”
“I disagree.”
Lifting her head, she managed a wobbly smile. “Can we agree to disagree?”
He regarded her for a moment. “It depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you can distract me.”
Relieved to see the crinkles of humor around his eyes, she was leaning up to kiss him when the door flung open. They sprang apart, and Xenia stared as a young lady blew into the library like a spring breeze. Silk flowers fluttered on her bonnet, the skirts of her lavender gown frothing with her haste. The newcomer was stunning: raven-haired and slender, she had sculpted features worthy of a cameo, familiar violet eyes, and an air of well-bred confidence.
Her lively gaze locked on Ethan, whose jaw slackened.
“Gigi?” Surprise laced his words. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“Oh, my dearest brother,” Gigi wailed. “I’mruined.”
With that, she dashed over and flung herself into Ethan’s arms.
ChapterNineteen
With one shoulder propped against the display case, Ethan observed his sister through narrowed eyes. Gigi, being Gigi, showed no sign of being discomfited by his hard stare. She occupied the settee, sipping tea and exclaiming over the delicious scones. Xenia had brought in a tray earlier, then promptly fled before Ethan could make more than cursory introductions.
Given the tension in the room, he didn’t blame her.
Flanking Gigi were her escorts, who happened to be Ethan’s estranged cronies. Simon Parkhurst, a stylish rake with a mop of copper locks, sat in the wingchair to her right, and Cyril Canning, dark-haired and somber-looking, occupied the one to her left. Ethan was grateful that the pair had looked after his sister. While he suspected their actions were not solely prompted by their loyalty to him—Gigi had a habit of wrapping males around her finger—he was relieved that they’d insisted on accompanying her here.
Truth be told, he also felt guilty. After discovering Constance’s perfidy with Blake, Ethan had cut off not only Blake but also the rest of the group, which included Parkhurst and Canning. At the time, the two had claimed that they had no knowledge of Blake’s betrayal, but Ethan had been too angry to care. He’d lashed out and accused them of being traitors.
There would be time to apologize…after he dealt with his sister.
“Tell me what happened, Gigi,” he said flatly. “Every detail. Leave nothing out.”
Sighing, Gigi set down her cup. “I got into a bit of a scrape, that’s all.”
This did not come as a surprise. He’d been bailing Gigi out of scrapes for the past twenty-one years. Spirited and willful, his baby sister had a tendency to do as she pleased. In fact, she and Xenia had that in common, and he suspected that they would get along like a house on fire. The idea of his sister and his lover getting acquainted probably should have concerned him, but for some reason it didn’t.
Gigi hadn’t liked any of the ladies who’d flocked to him during the height of his fame. She’d been particularly disapproving of Constance, no matter how hard his ex-fiancée had tried to win her favor. He used to think Gigi was a brat. Now he considered that she might be an excellent judge of character.
“If it is just a scrape,” he said, “why did you say you were ruined?”
“Because Society is stupid.”
Since he couldn’t argue, he waited, brows raised.
“It was nothing,” she insisted. “I was at a ball two nights ago, and it was a dreadful bore, so I decided to get some air in the garden?—”
“You went to the garden unchaperoned?”
“There’s no need to raise your voice,” Gigi said primly. “If I wanted a lecture, I would have gone to James. Anyway, I didn’t think I needed a chaperone since I only intended to be out there for a minute or two. Unfortunately, I ran into Sir Fenton.”
Ethan’s chest tightened at the mention of the corpulent fortune hunter.
