“Father has arranged a marriage for me. The Duke of Falcondale is very pleased to soon have another ducal heir in the family. Given the sorry state of Falcondale’s own successor, it is hardly surprising that he wishes to secure his family legacy through the female line instead of only through the male.”
Matthew swung toward his brother, hoping that his expressiononly showed feigned shock and not the horror that churned inside him every time he thought of Charlotte married to this brute. Hawley, who always dressed like a deuced strutting peacock, rose up in his buckle-festooned shoes and clicked them down on the polished parquet, his broad chest puffed out.
“She will be my most beautiful wife yet, don’t you think?” Hawley lazily moved his gaze from Matthew to focus on Lady Charlotte. He slowly traced her form, his mouth quirking slightly upward with each inch that his eyes traversed.
Matthew studied Lady Charlotte alongside his brother but with the eyes of an observer, not a manipulator. The stress around her eyes had increased, and the pressure against her lips had caused her smile to flatten several degrees. She was watching Hawley, her green eyes alert, her body tense. She reminded Matthew of a panther that he’d spied in the woods of America. Silent, on guard, ready to attack or flee as the situation demanded. She was fierce, Lady Charlotte, and intelligent enough to recognize when she was being hunted.
“I haven’t read a betrothal notice,” Matthew said with a casualness he certainly didn’t feel.
“We are waiting until Father returns from Scotland,” Hawley said, “but that is just a formality. Everything has been agreed upon.”
“Has the lady consented?” Matthew asked, the words slipping from him before he thought better. Hawley would inevitably view the question as a challenge, and the last thing Matthew wanted was to provoke more interest in Lady Charlotte.
Hawley’s head snapped in Matthew’s direction. “You never mentioned how lovely Alexander the Galling’s sister was. I can see why you’d want to hide such a gem for yourself, not that she’d ever pay you any attention.”
“I would never be so foolish as to think she would cast her eyesin my direction,” Matthew said quietly. It was the truth—even if Lady Charlotte had been showing a curious interest in him since he encountered her in the Black Sheep a few days ago. But he would have said the words anyway. Hawley had always taken pleasure in decimating the things Matthew cared about, and the less of a competition this seemed, the better.
As much as Matthew hated this conversation, Hawley was giving him an unexpected opportunity to probe into his brother’s first marriages. Although Hawley likely wouldn’t divulge much, he might let the barest of facts slip.
“The identity of your intended aside, don’t you think it is a might too early to be looking for another bride? The latest Lady Hawley was only buried a scant six months ago.” Matthew kept his voice relaxed, but he studied his brother closely.
The faintest flicker of something ugly flashed deep in Hawley’s eyes. Matthew probably wouldn’t have recognized it if he hadn’t endured the full blast of his brother’s cruelty in the past. Within an instant, Hawley hid his true emotions under an outpouring of sadness. He even managed to manufacture a sheen of tears.
“Although misfortune has plagued my marriages, I must fulfill my duty of begetting an heir.” Hawley infused his voice with the perfect mix of resolve and remorse. He’d used the same tone to escape punishment from the schoolmaster for his pranks.
“It is indeed tragic coincidence, both your wives dead from broken necks in two very different accidents.” Matthew kept all accusation from his voice, but Hawley’s eyes still narrowed before the viscount masked his initial reaction with affront.
“I am a grieving widower.” Hawley pressed his palm against his sternum as if staunching a bleeding heart. “How could you accuse me of evildoing?”
“Did I?” Matthew asked. “I merely mentioned the unfortunaterepetition of the cause of death. You are the one who alluded to a crime.”
Hawley glanced about the room before taking a menacing step forward. “Do not attempt to be clever, Mat. You haven’t the nerve for it.”
A grim certainty bled through Matthew. He had no doubt about his brother’s guilt, but he had no way of proving it. Perhaps by making himself a target, he could obtain evidence when Hawley inevitably attacked him.
“That is true. If I were actually brave, I’d mention that both your wives had the u-shaped bone in their necks snapped. That particular injury typically comes from strangulation. I’ve served as a surgeon on enough inquests to know.” Matthew lifted his eyes to stare down his brother. Even now, after all these years, it was hard to look directly at Hawley without flinching. But Matthew needed to gauge every aspect of Hawley’s reaction.
A slight flush touched the viscount’s skin as he began to step forward. For a moment, Matthew thought his brother might publicly strike him. But the viscount had learned to hide his temper better than he had as a lad. Instead of hitting Matthew, he merely pretended to pick off a piece of lint from his coat. Using the action as an excuse, he leaned close to Matthew’s ear.
“You’re nothing more than a bloody barbershop surgeon. You’ve forgotten your place, Mat,” Hawley said softly. “You best remember it before I show you exactly where it is.”
Once more, those old memories shivered through Matthew, and he did his utmost to battle them back again. Lady Charlotte couldn’t afford for him to be the weak, younger sibling.
“What are you doing here, Hawley?” Alexander stood before them now, his knuckles white against the ornate handle of his cane.
“Why, to see your incomparable sister, Galling. I would havenever guessed that you would be related to such a perfect specimen of womanhood.”
“Still using childishly cruel nicknames, Hawley?” Alexander raised a single auburn brow. “You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.” The viscount stared pointedly at Alexander’s walking stick.
“I have actually,” Alexander said with a nonchalance that somehow only heightened the seriousness of his words. “If you hurt my sister in any way, you will find out exactly how much.”
“You do realize it was the lady in question who sent me an invitation to this event, not the Duchess of Falcondale? It is clear that Lady Charlotte and her parents find me a suitable match.”
“Shite,” Alexander murmured, glancing back at his twin.
Hawley smirked as if certain he’d scored a point. Matthew, however, wasn’t so sure. Alexander shared a close bond with his sister. If Matthew could detect her real feelings toward the viscount, Alexander would be able to do so easily. Alexander couldn’t be fretting about Lady Charlotte succumbing to Hawley’s outward charms.
