“Then what the devil are you still glowering about?”
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Where the hell have you been, Clinton?” Drew demanded belligerently as soon as his brother entered the large study, which was the general gathering place for the men in the house.
Clinton glanced at Warren and Thomas lounging on a maroon sofa for an explanation of Drew’s unusual greeting, but since Drew hadn’t bothered to tell either of them why he’d been so impatient for Clinton’s return, they both merely shrugged.
He continued on to his desk before he replied. “I believe it’s my habit to attend to business when I’m home. I spent the morning at the Skylark offices. Had you bothered to ask Hannah, she would have told you that.”
Drew recognized a subtle reprimand when he heard it. He flushed slightly, but only because he hadn’t thought to question their housekeeper-cook.
“Hannah was too busy preparing for the party to be bothered.”
Clinton had to tamp down the urge to smile at that mumbled reply. Drew’s displays of temper were very rare and so surprising when they occurred. There was no point in aggravating the one he was demonstrating just now. Warren felt no such qualms.
“You could have asked me, blockhead.” Warren chuckled. “I could have told you—”
Drew was on his way to the sofa before Warren finished, so Warren didn’t bother to finish. He just stood up to meet his younger brother head on.
“Drew!”
The warning had to be repeated in an even louder tone before Drew turned back to glare at Clinton. The last time those two had a difference of opinion in his study, he had to have his desk repaired and two lamps and a table replaced.
“You might both remember that we’re entertaining this evening,” Clinton admonished sternly. “With the whole blasted town likely to show up, this room as well as every other in the house is certain to be used. I’d appreciate it if it didn’t have to be rearranged beforehand.”
Warren unclenched his fists and sat back down. Thomas shook his head at the lot of them.
“What’s troubling you, Drew, that you couldn’t discuss it with Warren or myself?” he asked, his tone meant to be soothing. “You didn’t have to wait for—”
“Neither of you was home last night, but Clinton was,” Drew snapped, but said no more, as if that had explained it all.
Thomas’s renowned patience was clearly in evidence as he said, “You went out yourself, didn’t you? So what’s this in reference to?”
“I want to know what the hell happened while I was gone, that’s what!” Drew then rounded on his oldest brother again. “So help me, Clinton, if you spanked Georgie after you said you wouldn’t—”
“I did no such thing!” Clinton returned indignantly.
“But he should have,” Warren put in his opinion. “A good walloping would have lifted the guilt from her shoulders.”
“What guilt?”
“For worrying us. It’s had her moping around the house—”
“If you’ve seen her moping, it’s because she hasn’t gotten over Cameron yet. She loved—”
“What nonsense,” Warren scoffed. “She never loved that little bastard. She just wanted him because he was the best-looking boy the town had to offer, though why she thought so I’ll never understand.”
“If that’s so, brother, then what had her crying every blasted day for a full week after we left Jamaica? It broke my heart to see her eyes all red and puffy. And it was all I could do to cheer her up before we got home. But I managed it. So I want to know what set her off again. Did you say something to her, Clinton?”
“I barely spoke two words to her. She spent most of the evening in her room.”
“Are you saying she was crying again, Drew?” Thomas asked carefully. “Is that what you’re so upset about?”
Drew shoved his hands in his pockets as he nodded curtly. “I can’t stand it, I really can’t.”
“Get used to it, blockhead,” Warren inserted. “They’ve all got their store of tears ready to discharge at a moment’s notice.”
“No one would expect an asinine cynic to know the difference between real tears and fake ones,” Drew retorted.
