“Downstairs drawing room, five minutes,” he whispers, and then he is strolling across the garden again, like we never spoke at all.
I weave my way through the party and, five minutes later, find the door to the Hinchingbrooks’ drawing room down a quiet side hallway.
Inside, the curtains are drawn and the furniture is covered in white sheets. I pace around for a minute or two until the knob turns and Emmett strides in.
“Good afternoon, Lady Ivy,” he says.
“Are we back to formalities after we—”We shared a bed, touched in the dark.I can’t bring myself to say it aloud. Emmett seems to be thinking the same thing, and a charged look passes between us.
We pause as we hear footsteps in the hall. Then the door swings open with abangand Bram comes crashing in. I dive behind the sofa, hidden from his view. He closes the door behind him and clicks the lock. Emmett goes still, shocked and silent.
Bram’s jaw clenches. “I’m not a fool. It’s time we finally spoke about what’s going on.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Brother.” Emmett extends his hands toward Bram, and the familiar mask of cool detachment drops over his face.
“I beg of you, stop treating me like I’m a child,” Bram snaps. I’ve never seen him look like this. His hair is disheveled, his burgundy velvet coat hanging half-off one shoulder, and his face, usually open and kind, is shattered, as if he might be on the verge of tears.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Emmett says.
“Lady Ivy Benton,” Bram snarls. “I just saw you two together in the garden. You looked rather close.”
“There was a bee I was shooing away—you know how ladies are,” Emmett answers.
Bram throws his hands up. “Do you expect me to believe these weak excuses? Please do me the honor of not insulting my intelligence. I saw you in the boathouse too.”
The color drains from Emmett’s face.
“I’m not naive,” Bram continues. “I knew not every girl who entered to be my bride would fall in love with me, but I did not expect to be betrayed by my own brother.” His voice cracks. It would be easier if he were angry with us, but he just looks so sad.
“It’s not what you think,” Emmett insists.
“Do you love her?” Bram asks.
“No, of course not,” Emmett says emphatically. It stings more than it should.
“At least if you loved her, I could understand,” Bram says. “But if you’re just sneaking around to—” Ever the gentleman, he stops short of saying it aloud. The implications make my face burn.
“We’re not sneaking around. I barely know her. I tried to seduce her mad sister once, and it went so poorly I’d be a fool to try another Benton girl. Give me some credit, at least.” Emmett lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Bram shakes it off and crosses the room, pacing like a caged animal.
“Bram, please just listen,” Emmett begs.
“Listen to what, more lies?”
“Please don’t shout. Making a scene at a party is my specialty, not yours.”
“I know you weren’t at camp that night,” Bram says, and Emmett goes deadly still. Dread pools in my stomach, and the sickly sweet tea cake goes sour in the back of my throat.
“Of course we were—” Emmett tries, but Bram raises a hand to silence him.
“Stop lying to me,” he shouts. Then he sinks down onto the love seat that I’m hiding behind. I can only see the backs of his shoes. “Please don’t lie to me,” he says once more, his voice a whisper. I remember what Emmett said about the fae, that Bram is incapable of lying. A hairline crack traces the center of my heart as it breaks for him.
Emmett’s eyes well with tears at the sight of Bram so upset. I feel helpless and overwhelmed, my heart beating in my throat likeI might throw up my guts all over the Duke of Hinchingbrook’s expensive carpets.
Emmett sighs deeply. “Lady Ivy asked for my help in getting to know you. She’s inexperienced. I pitied her. I hoped if I helped her, you’d pick her, not Faith Fairchild.”
“You could have just told me you didn’t want me to pick Faith.”
