When it was over Brett fell back on his haunches, breaking the hold of Anne’s legs, his hands on his knees, and his rump on his heels. He was panting as spots danced before his eyes. After a minute his vision was back to normal and he looked down at Anne. She was smiling softly with satisfaction. Her legs were bent and he was still between them, still holding them open with his knees. And Freddy’s hand was still on her. His glove was soaked through, the fingers now a dark brown, moisture seeping between them. Brett realized it wasn’t only Anne’s moisture. It was Brett’s own release leaking out of her onto Freddy’s hand. He caught his breath.
Freddy slowly held up both hands with a grin and looked between Anne and Brett. He turned his hands, examining them. “Well, it appears we’ve ruined another pair of gloves.”
Anne laughed weakly. “I may be wrong, but I don’t believe they will be the last.”
Freddy laughed with her while Brett looked down at his knees and shook his head, smiling.
Freddy deliberately returned to the library after dinner that evening. He refused to bring up this afternoon’s erotic interlude in the Goode drawing room, but simply by retreating to the library Freddy hoped Brett would think about it, would understand that not discussing what was happening between the two of them, with Anne, was foolish. He sat quietly in the same uncomfortable, spindly chair he’d occupied the night before. Brett paced in front of the cold fireplace. Freddy had just finished telling Brett what he’d learned from Stephen about his mother and her role in the Goode’s situation.
“You must marry her, Freddy.”
Brett’s quiet words startled Freddy so much he nearly dropped his port.
“What?” His tone was unguarded and incredulous. Brett was in love with her. This was his opportunity. And yet he was giving her to Freddy? A surge of anger went through Freddy. Anne deserved better treatment. She wasn’t some used garment to pass along when Brett was done with her. She was Anne, damn it. And Brett loved her.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The words were sharp and angry, and Brett looked back at him in surprise. Then anger clouded his features as well.
“Is she not good enough for you, Duke?” Brett’s tone was colder than Freddy had ever heard it.
“Don’t be a fool,” Freddy responded scathingly. “Is she not good enough for you?”
Brett looked astonished. “Now you are being a fool. I told you last night—”
“To hell with what you said last night. I repeat, don’t be a fool. Anne wants you, Brett. You can have her. Marry her.”
Brett looked pained. He set his glass down on a waist-high display case full of obscure artifacts that bordered the mantle. “I can’t.”
Freddy waited for more. He knew it was in vain. There was never more. Why was he so in love with this man who would share nothing of himself? He saw the pain, the uncertainty, the hopelessness in his gaze, but Brett would reveal nothing by choice. He shut Freddy out at every turn. And yet Freddy loved him more each day. Freddy wouldn’t be shut out anymore. “You will.”
Brett’s posture stiffened, became aggressive. Freddy gained hope from his anger. For years Brett had remained imperturbable. But in the last few days his anger couldn’t be held back anymore. If there was anger, there were other emotions simmering beneath the surface. If Freddy could get Brett to release the anger perhaps those emotions would have the chance to arise. “She deserves to be married, Brett. Don’t you respect her enough to make things right?”
Brett snorted in disbelief and his hand violently waved once through the air, as if clearing Freddy’s words away. “I respect her more than you know. I always have. I stayed away because I respected her. Because I respected her feelings.”
“Stayed away?” Freddy asked quietly.
Brett just shook his head and his lips thinned.
“Then marry—”
“That’s why I want you to marry her, Freddy. She deserves to be duchess. She should have been. You know it.”
The air escaped from Freddy’s lungs. Hadn’t he just been thinking that the other night? That Anne and Bertie should be here, ruling at Ashton Park. He turned away from Brett, but it was too late.
“You do know it,” Brett said with satisfaction. “If Bertie hadn’t died, then he would be duke, and Anne his duchess. You can make things right, Freddy. Marry her. Give her what should have been hers all along.”
It was Freddy’s turn to shake his head. “She doesn’t love me.”
Behind him Brett was silent for a minute. “She does. She wants you.”
Freddy turned to Brett, schooling his features to hide the ripping pain in his chest. “It’s not the same thing, Brett. She loves you.”
Brett seemed genuinely surprised. “Are you mad? She just met me. She may be confusing lust with love right now, but she’ll come to her senses when she has the opportunity to be duchess.”
Freddy scoffed sadly. “Yes, there is that, isn’t there? She may not love me, but she’ll love being duchess.”
Brett sighed and walked over to take the seat next to Freddy. He looked so out of place in an identical small, spindly chair that Freddy chuckled. Brett saw Freddy looking at the chair and he glanced down as well. Then he laughed softly. “I don’t fit in here,” he said, twisting awkwardly and finally crossing his legs to the side.
Freddy’s chest constricted at Brett’s offhand remark. Did he really feel that way? If Anne and Freddy married would Brett feel more comfortable here with them? If Anne was Freddy’s duchess and Brett no longer had to worry about what was due the title, would Brett happily stay here as their companion, as their lover? If he wasn’t being forced to confront his feelings and make a commitment to either of them, would Brett stay with them both?
Freddy dropped his head back and closed his eyes, in turmoil. He was so confused. Was marrying Anne actually the right thing to do? It seemed to Freddy that Brett was well on the way to making a monumental mistake that could not be rectified. He was going to push Anne away. But if Freddy married her Brett could have her. He’d see her every day, and Freddy would not deny them. Brett could love her forever and never lose her, once he got over his guilt.
Freddy couldn’t deny his own selfish reasons for marrying Anne either. If they married he would have her always. He recognized love, no matter what Brett believed. And Freddy knew he was well on his way to loving Anne. Perhaps he already did. Perhaps it hadn’t been puppy love, but the beginning of the real thing that had only needed time to grow, as he had. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Brett staring at him, his face stoic, but his eyes sad pools of expectation.
If he married Anne, he would have Brett, a voice whispered in his head. Because Brett would never leave her. He might be afraid to marry her, but he would never leave her. And if she were Freddy’s then Brett would never leave him.
“You know Anne isn’t like that,” Brett said softly, responding to Freddy’s earlier remark. He lightly touched the back of Freddy’s hand with his fingertips. It was meant to be a soothing touch, but Freddy was oversensitive to Brett’s touch after the last two days. Tingles of awareness shimmied up his arm and made him shiver. Brett pulled his hand away.
“Is that what you want, Brett?” Freddy asked quietly. He felt helpless. Brett’s happiness was paramount to Freddy. But what of Anne? She loved Brett. Freddy knew she did. How could she not? He didn’t see how she could settle for Freddy when she was in love with Brett.
Brett nodded. “Yes, Freddy,” he said with a telltale catch in his voice. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice was firm. “That is what I want.”
Anne had woken up this morning still floating from yesterday’s lovemaking with Freddy and Brett. She had been looking forward to another day spent in their company, perhaps another chance to make love. She’d opened her door to find a determined Freddy and Brett before she’d even had her first cup of tea. It was far too early in the morning for this conversation, however.
“Absolutely not!”
Anne was horrified. “Frederick Thorne, whatever are you thinking? You can’t marry a woman like me!”
“Anne, listen to reason,” Freddy said in that condescending tone men did so well.
“No, Freddy, you listen to reason. Not only am I older than you,” she rolled right over his scoffing snort, “but my reputation is more than tarnished. Not to put too fine a point on it, it’s black. Ruined beyond redemption.” Anne cringed as she used the same words that she’d spoken seductively to Brett yesterday. “Do you understand what I am saying, Freddy?”
“I understand that I care for you deeply, Anne, and that your current situation is a direct result of my careless neglect.” He tried to take her hand, but Anne yanked it out of reach. “I want to take care of you, Anne. You should have been duchess. If Bertie hadn’t died, you would be. I want to give that to you.”
Anne could only stare in disbelief. Did he honestly think she would marry him for those reasons?
“If you marry me, Anne, you will be duchess. You will never have to worry again. People here will respect you. Your past will mean nothing.”
Anne shook her head. He really had no idea that with each word he was justifying her refusal. He started to speak again and Anne held up an imperious hand to stop whatever drivel he was going to spout.
“You are an idiot.” She spoke slowly and clearly so he would understand each word.
Freddy reared back as if she’d slapped him. “I beg your pardon?”
Anne ticked her rebuttals off on her fingers. “Number one, I will not marry a man who pities me, for any reason. Number two, you had nothing to do with my current situation. Number three, I have no desire to be duchess. Do you honestly believe I want to follow in that woman’s footsteps?” Anne shivered in horror. “Number four, Bertie did die. When I engaged myself to him we never thought he’d be duke. He dreaded the prospect, as did I. And number five, my past will always mean something.”
Freddy pried her hand out from where she had crossed her arms in front of her. She closed her fist, but he pried that loose too, until he could hold her hand. “I want to marry you, Anne. Don’t you want to be duchess? My duchess?”
Anne’s heart cracked, and she closed her eyes. God, yes, she wanted to be Freddy’s. But not like this. Not because he felt a sense of obligation. Not because he thought being duchess would make up for Bertie’s death or her recent poverty. She wanted to be Freddy’s because he loved her. But he didn’t. Not the way she was just realizing that she loved him.
Freddy may still be finding his way as duke, but as a man he knew who he was. He was intelligent, purposeful, with a deep sense of responsibility and a playful sensuality. He was sincere and caring, strong and tender. Yes, she wanted to be his, not just his duchess, but his in every way.
Anne shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, Freddy, I don’t want to be your duchess.”
Freddy cleared his throat and rose from the sofa, letting go of Anne’s hand. He walked across the room and stood in front of the mantle, running his finger along the edge of the carved wood. “I thought that was every woman’s dream, to be a duchess. There are many women who would be proud to be Duchess of Ashland.”
Anne walked over to him and laid her hand on his arm gently. “Freddy, if it were just me and you, and you were a mere Mister, then my answer would be different.”
Freddy’s hand froze, and he turned to look at her, genuine confusion on his face. His brows were lowered, a furrow between them. “You are saying no because I am a duke?”
“Yes.” Anne ran her hand lovingly along the lapel of his jacket, straightening it though it didn’t need it. She wanted to have the right to do that every day. But she wasn’t the woman for Freddy. “You deserve a woman from your own station, Freddy, a nobly bred girl who was raised to be a peeress. Who will make you proud to have her by your side. Not a poor vicar’s daughter with a ruined reputation.”
Freddy gently took hold of her shoulders and when she wouldn’t look up at him, bent his knees to meet her eyes. “I deserve to be happy with the woman of my choice. I choose you.”
Anne sadly shook her head. “You feel responsible for me, Freddy. Oh, you may want me right now, physically, but that won’t be enough in a short while. You’ll tire of me, and I couldn’t bear to face your scorn and bitterness for the rest of our lives.”
Freddy shook her softly. “Is that what you think of me? Is that the kind of man you believe me to be? I love you, Anne. In spite of what everyone apparently thinks of me, I am old enough to know my own heart. But even if you don’t believe that now, take me because I am duke, because I can make your life so much better, Anne.”
“You make my life better now, Freddy,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “You are so wonderful, Freddy. The last few days have been so wonderful. Please don’t take them away.” Anne turned her face into his collar, inhaling the expensive scent of his linen and his cologne, and melting a little inside at the dear familiarity of it. “I adore you, Freddy, everything about you. I want to be yours for a while. But only for a while. And then we shall have this time to remember when you go on with your life.”
“Then marry me, Anne,” he pleaded earnestly, his lips pressed to her hair. “It doesn’t have to be just for a while. It could be forever.”
Anne broke away and went to gaze blindly out the window. “I’m sorry, Freddy, but the answer is still no.” She looked down at the floor, too overcome to look at Freddy, too afraid she might start to cry. “But I do thank you for asking.”
“Would you marry Brett?”
Anne’s head whipped around in shock. “What?”
Freddy marched over to the drawing room door and threw it open. “Brett!”
Anne hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. “Freddy, what are you doing?”
Brett came limping around the corner from the kitchen, where he’d gone to presumably find them all some tea. Mrs. Goode was out in the garden.
“What is it, Freddy?” Brett asked. He looked at Anne, and his face was so solemn, his eyes so bleak that Anne’s heart stuttered.
“She said no.”
“She can’t say no,” Brett said in confusion. “She’s going to be the duchess.”
Anne turned and stalked back into the drawing room. “Why is everyone preoccupied with the idea of my being duchess? What has that got to do with anything?” She threw her arms in the air on the last word.
“She wants a Mister,” Freddy told Brett.
“What?” Brett sounded as if he didn’t quite understand the words Freddy was using.
“I don’t want a Mister,” Anne informed them, “or a duke. I simply want someone who loves me.”
“Freddy loves you,” Brett informed her flatly. “There. Now you may marry him.”
“Brett is in love with you.”
Anne was about to scoff at Freddy’s statement when she saw Brett’s face. He’d turned panicked eyes on Freddy.
“What are you saying, Freddy?” Anne demanded, watching Brett.
“I never said that,” Brett denied, and Anne turned away, pain blooming in her chest.
“I read your letters, Brett. I read the letters you wrote to Anne.” Freddy’s voice was quiet, but it was firm. Anne slowly turned back around.
“Brett never wrote me any letters.” Anne’s heart was pounding.
Freddy was standing in front of the door, which he’d obviously closed. He shook his head. “No, Anne. He never sent you any letters. But he wrote you at least twenty. He has them still, wrapped with ribbon in his desk.”
“Freddy,” Brett choked out. Anne finally looked at him. He was vibrating with anger and disbelief.
“Tell her, Brett,” Freddy softly pleaded. “Tell her how you feel. Tell her about the letters.”
Brett was breathing heavily and his fists were clenched. He dragged his eyes to Anne, who stood there frozen.
“I…” Brett closed his eyes tightly. “It�
�s true,” he whispered.
“And he wants to marry you,” Freddy said, as if helping Brett with his lines from offstage.
Brett turned angry, panicked eyes to Freddy. He looked, Anne imagined, like those poor souls had looked on their way to the guillotine. His gaze slowly swung toward Anne. He visibly swallowed and then nodded quickly.
Anne turned away, blinking back her tears. She walked over to the sofa and sat, taking an inordinate amount of time to arrange her skirts. Finally, when she was composed, she looked up at the two of them.
“Yes, I can see that he is positively radiating joy at the prospect of marriage.” She tried to sound merely amused, but a little of her bitterness escaped.
“Anne, you must—”
Freddy stopped when she once again raised an imperious hand. “You,” she pointed at Brett, her hand shaking, “talk.”
Brett looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.
“I see.” And Anne did see. Brett might harbor some feelings for her, but love was not at the root of either of these proposals. She leaned back, anger beginning a slow boil inside her. “Would either of you care to explain your sudden longing for marital bliss?”
“We are in love with you,” Freddy said in exasperation.
Anne snorted inelegantly. “That’s a flam and you know it. Oh, I’m not saying that you don’t have feelings for me, I’m sure you do, but you are hardly so in love with me you went home last night and drew straws as to who the lucky lad would be.”
“You deserve to be duchess,” Brett spoke quietly, and Anne was actually startled to hear his voice he’d been quiet so long. “If Bertie hadn’t died, you would be duchess.”
It was as if a great lightning bolt shot out of the sky and struck Anne on the head. “This is about Bertie,” she whispered in dawning understanding. Her voice got stronger. “This isn’t about me. This is about Bertie.”
Suddenly Brett couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I did write those letters, Anne. I’ve been in love with you since the first letter you wrote to Bertie. He read every one of them aloud to me. And I wanted you. I coveted you, behind his back. I never told him how I felt.” Brett looked away. He was clearly ashamed of his feelings. “I even took some of your letters. Even when he was beside himself at losing them, I didn’t give them back.” Brett turned bleak, devastated eyes to her. “I thought it was all I would ever have of you.” For a moment he stood there fighting some inner battle. “I want to marry you, Anne. I am in love with you.”
Brothers In Arms 05: Retreat From Love Page 18