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The dowager’s piercing gaze landed on her again. “I believe you have some explaining to do, Miss Dawson.”

47

Rafe

CRASH!

One of Rafe’s study doors ricocheted off the wall.

He jumped to his feet, then immediately fell back down, eyes slamming shut. White-hot pain sliced through his leg, and a sharp ache radiated through his forearm where it hit the couch. Fuck!

“Shite! Rafe, are you well? I’m so sorry. Bloody fucking hell.”

Even with his eyes squeezed tight, leg and arm throbbing, something in his chest eased. Because he knew that voice.

His brother was here.

Rafe slowly opened his eyes to find a pair of wide green ones staring back at him.

“Fine,” Rafe said tightly. His leg was on fire, but the pain was dulling a little.

Sebastian groaned as he took a step back and started pacing. “You’re ruining this,” he complained. “I had all these plans to come in here and rage at you.”

“I’m so sorry to have waylaid your plans of dressing me down.”

“You have no idea,” Sebastian grumbled. “The beratement was going to be top-notch. Absolutely vicious. You’d have been quaking in your boots.”

“I’m sure.”

“Piss off.”

Rafe grinned. God, he’d missed his brother. Sebastian shifted, then tucked his hands behind his back and looked away. Rafe’s grin faded, and the heavy weight of guilt sank in his gut. “I’m sorry, Sebastian.”

His brother didn’t look at him. His mouth flattened, and he glared hard at the far wall. Tension radiated from his frame, filled the silence of the room, and stole the air along with it.

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did.”

Sebastian jutted out his chin.

“I was being a daft arse.”

Sebastian’s answering snort screamed understatement of the bloody year. But he still didn’t acknowledge Rafe.

“Silent treatment, truly?”

“Silent treatment, truly?” Sebastian muttered.

“Ah, and now we’re going for the classic mimicry.”

His brother finally turned to him. “Better than the classic coward running away from his feelings.”

Rafe winced. Direct hit.

“And then almost dying.” Sebastian let out a low growl. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Why do people keep acting like I almost died on purpose?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run off in the first place? If you hadn’t been reckless and partaken in a curricle race in the middle of the night?”