Bram waited, but when no other information was forthcoming, he said, “And the others? How is your eldest daughter, Ellen?”
“She is with her grandparents, as are the others. We cannot have them here at such a time,” his brother said dismissively.
“Excellent. I shall visit with them soon.”
“Yes, well. It is about time you returned from wherever it is you have been traveling,” Malcolm said in a loud voice, for no other reason than that was usually how he spoke. “Go and wash off the heathen your letters to my children told me you had become. We will expect you in the morning, as surely it will take too long to bathe and dress now, and I have no wish to scare our guests.”
Inhale and exhale.
Bram stood on the step and watched his brother and sister-in-law walk away. Calmed his thoughts and told himself this was Malcolm; he had always been this way. Always believed himself better than Bram.
“Four years,” he muttered, “and he still does not have a kind word for me.”
CHAPTER2
After a long and uninterrupted slumber Bram had woken in his room. Looking around, he noted there were many changes from the day he’d walked out of it angry, with his belongings and no clear intention of where he was headed. Only that it was as far away from here as possible.
He could still be angry, but traveling the world had taught him many things, one of those that anger rarely solved anything. He’d learned many lessons at the hands of people he’d met on his travels.
“I have had a bath put in that room next door.”
“Thank you,” he said to his valet, footman, and friend.
He had met Mungo in Calcutta. The man had been traveling the world, and they had fallen into conversation. It sometimes happened when you met someone; you felt an instant camaraderie. Mungo had been that for Bram.
Of Scottish descent, he was a man with a wealth of knowledge and humor. They had spent four years traveling the world together. When they returned to London, Bram had thought his friend would leave for his home, but he’d said there was nothing there for him. So he’d stayed on and decided he would become Bram’s valet.
The transition was not as easy as Mungo had hoped.
“How are your accommodations?”
Mungo grunted, which was his answer for most things.
“Which tells me nothing.”
“It’s a bed. The two idiots in the other ones look down their noses at me, which I told them would get them a jab to the jaw if they did not stop.”
Bram smiled. “I bet that stopped them.”
“They’ve been frosty but polite since. Terrible gossips though.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?”
“Your brother is not terribly well liked, and his wife even less. Apparently, they are hard taskmasters and set the staff to polishing things regularly even if they have just been polished. Life before the house party guests arrived was hell, according to Mrs. Potts—”
“I wondered if she was still here. I used to sit with her as a boy and eat cake.” Bram felt a smile tugging at his lips as the memories filtered through his head.
“She said you were the best of the lot and it’s a damn shame you weren’t born first.”
“Did she now? Well, if I had been, I may have ended up the way of Malcolm, spoiled and rotten to my toes.”
“I said that, but Mr. Tilbert thinks you’re a good ‘un and it’s in your blood,” Mungo said in his thick Scottish accent.
“For someone who is a stoic, unspeaking Scot the majority of the time, it seems you’ve managed to infiltrate belowstairs.”
“I would be happier in the stables,” Mungo said.
“And yet we discussed this. You are not sleeping there. We are not traveling the world now, and you insisted on being my valet, so you will behave like one. Of course, when you come to your senses and decide it is not for you, then we shall work out your next step.”
