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“You are my brother, Dorian. Not his.”

This time I truly laugh, I rise from the armchair, heading toward the door, then stop.

“Lucien.”

“Yes?”

I turn slightly, just enough for him to meet my gaze.

“Refrain from speaking ill of them in front of Ivan.”

“My lord. Mr. Ravenswood.”

The leather of my gloves tugs at my knuckles as I pull them off. “Laurence.”

Lucien is behind me, his stride slightly out of time.

“Laurence, hello.”

The door swings open.

“Have something prepared for my brother and me to eat.”

He inclines his head, then his gaze slides sideways, signaling to the waiting maids. Their skirts rustle instantly.

We traverse the corridors of Ashford Manor in silence. In the dining room, I pull back my chair, Lucien faces me, adjusting his waistcoat with two fingers.

The side door opens, Millicent enters with a tray against her hip and her gaze lowered. She sets the plates one by one; as she leans over, a dark lock of hair slides across her face. Lucien follows her with his eyes.

He doesn’t even attempt to hide it.

“Miss Wood.”

She turns, her amber eyes meeting mine.

The audacity.

“Lord Vasiliev Ashford,” she resumes arranging the cutlery.

Lucien does not take his eyes off her even then. Millicent finishes, the napkin straightened with excessive care and exits without looking back. I watch her disappear beyond the threshold, then return to my brother.

“I gather you still enjoy one another’s company.”

His smile broadens.

“You gather correctly.”

I shake my head.

“What is the harm in it?” he asks.

“Nothing, brother. Nothing at all.”

Shortly after, two of them return, she is not alone this time. Jane follows with the larger tray. They set down the courses: clear beef soup, dark bread still warm to the touch, a thick-cut roast, glazed potatoes, and stewed vegetables. The aroma fills the room. When they leave, the silence stretches out once more.

Lucien takes his knife and twirls it between his fingers.

“Jane is a beautiful woman as well.”