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Ronan gravitated his attention to his younger, much less pompous brother.
Grinning, Benjamin hooked his ankle over his knee and folded his arms rather smugly. Bobbing his Hessian-clad foot, he arched hawkish blond eyebrows in a failed attempt to appear innocent.
“I’m just here as a spectator,” he said flippantly, darting his amused gaze to those present. He waved a hand, his grin growing impossibly more enormous still. “This is going to be jolly good fun.”
“Hush, Benjamin. This is no laughing matter,” their stepmother chided, eyeing Ronan with a somewhat unnerving contemplative maternal perusal. Rarely had she turned such speculative consideration on him.
Unease clawed Ronan’s spine with its pointed little talons.
“Oh, Mama. Forgive me, but I quite disagree,” Benjamin chuckled, wicked merriment glinting in his hazel eyes. “What say you, Corrina? Is this a laughing matter?”
As one, Ronan and his brothers looked to the elder of their sisters.
Corinna gave Ronan a probing glance with her incredible pale blue eyes before saying, “I think it shall prove quite…interesting.” Head canted, she touched a fingertip to her chin. “I also believe you are all underestimating Ronan tremendously.”
Well, one vote of confidence was better than none. And yet, Ronan still had no more idea why he’d been summoned than he had when he’d sleepily answered his door.
Rather peeved that he was the only person present who was ignorant of whatever the crucial matter was, he crossed to the ostentatious walnut desk. Barely suppressing a glower, he sank into the tufted burgundy wingback chair.
Still no coffee either.
Ronan’s head was on the verge of exploding—as was his, up until this point, judiciously controlled temper.
Enough of this fustian prattle.
“Well?” Ronan snapped, tapping his fingers on the leather armrest. They made a faint cracking sound with each impatient tap.
Brow furrowed and uncharacteristically subdued, Father lifted two missives, the wax seals clearly broken on both. He extended the folded rectangles, one with black wax and the other a deep green.
“These are for you, Son.”
Leaning forward, curiosity and a jot of trepidation pitching in his gut, Ronan accepted the letters. “You opened my correspondences?”
From his place behind the divan where their mother and Benjamin sat, Sanford said, “It was a matter of some urgency.”
So everyone kept insisting, and yet Ronan still had no inkling what was afoot.
Arms clasped behind his back, Sanford reminded Ronan of a great crow, perched and ready to pounce. Posture rigid, a muscle flexed rhythmically in Sanford’s jaw as he glanced out the window before leveling his gaze expectantly upon their father.
Could rigor mortis set in before a person died?
Ronan unfolded the first letter, but before he could read the salutation, Benjamin fairly crowed, “You, dear brother, have been named guardian to two young girls.”
Mrs. Shepherd, I find myself in a most unique position.
As you are vastly familiar with what happens to unwanted girls
I seek your assistance. Sadly, my employer has departed this earth,
and my two young charges’ guardian has yet to contact us. Simply put,
if I cannot make other arrangements for the Masterson girls, could you possibly
find room at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women
for them, though there isn’t anyone to pay the usual fee?
They’ve literally nowhere else to go.
