“Has something happened, Brunswick?” Xenia said worriedly.
Gigi was not surprised that her sister-in-law sensed it too. Brunswick, who’d been with Ethan for as long as Gigi could recall, was a mastiff of a fellow with deep wrinkles and sagging jowls. His gruff manner belied a gentle heart. When she was younger, he’d given her comfits whenever she visited Ethan in London.
“I’m afraid there was a disagreement, my lady,” Brunswick said gloomily. “Between the master and Lord Owen.”
“Is Ethan in his study?” Gigi asked.
Xenia did not wait for an answer, hurrying toward Ethan’s private sanctuary without bothering to remove her gloves or coat.
Alone with Brunswick, Gigi said, “How bad was it?”
“Not the worst it has been,” Brunswick replied.
“I hope that is not your best attempt at optimism.”
The butler sighed. “But it is the worst argument they’ve had since Lord Owen came to stay.”
“What did my brothers fight over this time?” she asked quietly.
Brunswick hesitated, his loyalty ingrained.
“The master had planned to go riding with Lord Owen this morning,” he said. “When Lord Owen did not come down, Lord Ethan went to his bedchamber. From what I could gather, Lord Owen had been drinking last night.”
Icy dread percolated through Gigi. While Owen’s moods had been unpredictable since returning from war, alcohol brought out the worst of his demons. It made him belligerent, angry, and self-destructive. Often, he would go on binges, drinking heavily and indulging in behaviors she wasn’t supposed to know about but did because she’d eavesdropped on Papa lecturing him to stay away from brothels and gaming hells. More than once, Mama and Papa had taken Owen to the country seat in Hertfordshire to keep him away from bad influences. Owen would become sober and abstain for months, but then something would trigger him to start drinking again.
Since his return from Afghanistan, Owen had repeated this cycle…until he came to Chuddums. Five months ago, he, along with the rest of the family, had come to help Ethan in a time of need. In Chuddums, Owen had been different, and Gigi had felt it…felt her brother’s desperate desire to change and make amends to Ethan. He hadn’t touched spirits the entire time, not even at the wedding, and Gigi had been hopeful that he’d finally turned a corner.
“He promised he was done with drinking,” she said haltingly. “After Ethan and Xenia wed, he made a vow in front of the family. He…he made a joke of it, saying that he was taking Ethan’s lead and shackling himself. Not to a wife but to sobriety.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“He promised.”
“Sometimes, when a man is not in full possession of himself, he cannot make such promises,” Brunswick said with obvious care.
“If Owen cannot make the change, then who can? Who can do it for him?” Shaking her head, she went to the stairwell. “I must speak with him.”
“Are you certain that’s wise, Lady Gigi? He’s in a state?—”
But she was already halfway up the stairs, her skirts swishing with the urgency of her mission. She had to talk some sense into Owen. Had to make him understand the damage he was doing to himself and the family. Had to find some way to get through to him…to help him.
She traversed the paneled corridor to the guest bedchamber where Owen was staying. She was about to knock and stopped, her hand raised mid-air, when she heard a sound coming from within. Her pulse racing, she pressed her ear to the door. The sound of anguished weeping brought heat to her eyes, and her fist melted, her fingers brushing against the door.
“Owen?” she said, her throat tight. “It’s me, Gigi. Let me in.”
A pause before Owen’s hoarse voice emerged. “Go away.”
“Let me in, and we can talk?—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I want to be left alone.”
“But you shouldn’t be alone. And I am here,” she said helplessly. “I want to help.”
“You cannot help. You’re a sheltered girl who knows nothing of the world and how bloody brutal it can be.”
“I can listen. I can understand?—”
“You cannot possibly understand. I am not one of your goddamned projects. For Christ’s sake, just leave me be.”
