by Bree Wolf
Title or no, Robert knew that if it hadn’t been for Charles’ note, he would never have come home.
Climbing the front stairs with long strides, he entered the house, silence hanging like cobwebs in every corner. At least as children, their own voices had sent echoes through the house. Now, it lay almost dead, like one of Charles’ old, dusty books.
Knowing with absolute certainty where he would find his brother, Robert made his way across the marble hall and down the west corridor until he reached his father’s old study. Again, a rueful smile came to his face. How many times had he stood outside these very doors waiting for his father to call him inside and shake his head at him for yet another unwise decision?
But, not today.
His hand only hesitating for a moment, Robert slid open the door and stepped inside, his careful footsteps all but silent on the parquet floor. After his eyes had adjusted to the rather dim light, he found himself staring across the room at his father’s old desk, his brother sitting in its leather armchair, quill in hand, head bent over some papers.
For a moment, Robert just looked at him, a smile curling his lips. In a strange way, he felt transported through time as though he was a young boy again, and the man behind the desk was his father. While Charles and his father had always shared the basic characteristics of their personality, Robert had often felt like an outsider to their shared interests. Never had he been able to relate to what brought them such joy.
Still, he felt a deep connection to his brother, and for the first time, Robert was glad he had come home.
“Squint anymore, and I’m sure you’ll go blind.”
At the sound of his voice, Charles’ head snapped up, his eyes growing wide as he beheld his mirror image standing by the door. “Robert!” he exclaimed, almost jumping to his feet. Rounding the desk, a delighted smile on his face, Charles came toward him. “A part of me thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, drawing him into his arms. “It is so good to see you.”
For a moment, Robert closed his eyes, savouring his brother’s embrace and all the emotions it elicited. Then he stood back. “You cannot truly believe I would miss my little brother getting married. What sort of man do you take me for?”
“The worst kind.” Shaking his head, Charles laughed. “Look at you! You look like a pirate. When was the last time you cut your hair?”
Compared to Charles’ rather stylish crop, Robert wore his auburn hair long and tied in the back, a perfect match to his loose-fitting clothes. “What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold.”
Charles laughed. “Do I dare ask what you have been doing?”
“I’m sure you don’t want to know.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Charles admitted. “Frankly, your escapades are well known all over London. Did you know they’ve earned you the rather flattering nickname of ‘Notorious Norwood’?” Again, Charles shook his head; an amused smile seemed to tickle the corners of his mouth. “I generally tend to turn a deaf ear.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Robert confirmed, not daring to be any more specific. If his brother only knew half of what he had done, he would have turned deep red at the very sight of him. Maybe London knew a lot less than it thought. “So? You’re getting married tomorrow. Isn’t that a bit soon?” He winked at his brother. “Is there a reason you’re rushing this wedding?”
Charles shook his head at him again. To Robert, it seemed like all Charles ever did was shake his head at him. “I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from any such comments with regard to my fiancée. For your information, we have been engaged since last season. Was it my fault I had such trouble tracking you down? You have not changed in the least.”
“I saw no need.” A devilish smile drew up the corners of his mouth, and Robert saw its effects on his brother’s face long before he spoke again. “After all, in my experience the ladies generally do not merely want the saint, but a little bit of the sinner as well.” He shrugged, enjoying the slightly shocked expression on his brother’s face. “And you know me, I hate to disappoint.”
Slowly, the shock fell from Charles’ face and was replaced by a rather indulgent smile. Once again, Robert felt like a young boy being called into his father’s study. “You truly have not changed,” his brother repeated. Turning to the liquor cabinet, he filled two glasses, offering one to him.
Downing it in one gulp, Robert cleared his throat. “So? Who is the lucky woman?” he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.
“Lady Isabella Carrington.”
“Lord Gadbury’s daughter?”
Charles nodded. “The eldest.”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.” Pouring himself another drink, Robert settled into one of the armchairs by the window front, gesturing for his brother to follow. “Tell me about her.”
Taking a seat, Charles smiled. “She is indeed very amiable and possesses all the qualities of a lady.”
Robert chuckled. “You truly sound enthusiastic, brother. How did you meet?”
“At the British Museum.”
Robert groaned, hearing his worst fears realised.
“She, too, was engrossed with the most recent Egyptian artefacts,” Charles elaborated, a slightly disapproving look in his eyes as he looked at his brother.
“This truly sounds like a love match,” Robert teased, unable to stop himself.
Lips pressed into a thin line, Charles eyed him with displeasure. “And what would you know about love? Believe me, although I tried not to, it has been nearly impossible not to know how you’ve spent the last few years. More than once, I’ve heard the whispers that follow you. From what I can gather, you’ve never spent more than a few days in the company of one woman.”
Again, Robert chuckled as memories surfaced that would have Charles faint on the spot. “Yes, but I always thought you were different. As dedicated as you are to your dusty, old books, I always thought that one day, you’d find a woman you’d be equally dedicated to. Instead, you seem to have found one who shares your dedication to…,” he gestured at the tall bookcases lining the far wall of the study, “those.” This time, it was Robert who shook his head at his brother. “Quite frankly, I can’t wait to meet her. She seems to be your other half.”
Downing his drink, Charles set down the glass with a loud clank. “What do you want, Robert? Certainly, even you can see the advantage in choosing one’s wife based on common interests. You can’t truly believe that to be wrong?”
Seeing the pulse hammering in his brother’s throat, Robert lifted his hands in a gesture of truce. “Far be it from me to oppose your match.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused on his brother’s face. “But to be frank, you sound more taken with the old Egyptian trinkets than your future wife. The real question is does she get your heart pounding?”
Charles huffed. “In what way is that relevant?”
Robert laughed. “If she did, you’d know why.” Clearing his throat, Robert took a swig from his glass. “I really did not mean any disrespect but was merely curious what kind of woman had captured your attention.”
Looking rather annoyed, Charles eyed him carefully. “She is well-read in history, which means we are never at a loss for words in the other’s company. Also, her demeanour speaks of a courteous and noble character, and she will, I am certain, represent our family with grace. Even though she is a few years younger than I am, she is not childish in the least but behaves with the utmost respect toward anyone in her presence. Upon meeting her, I am certain you will believe so yourself.”
“Dear Brother, I never meant to suggest that she was not worthy of our family or of you.” All teasing left Robert’s voice, and his eyes became serious as they looked into his brother’s. “I simply meant to ensure that you have indeed chosen wisely.”
“Wisely, brother? And what would you know of choosing a wife?” Charles laughed, once more shaking his head. “Am I mistaken, or are you still look
ing for the future Lady Norwood?”
Robert chuckled. The mere thought seemed ludicrous. “I have no intention of ever marrying. I thought you knew that.”
“You cannot be serious,” Charles objected, quite honestly stunned by his brother’s words. “What about your title? You need an heir.”
“An heir?” Robert laughed. The life that his parents had lived, the life that Charles and his new bride were about to embark upon was the very life that would have him running for the hills within a few days. He was not made for a settled life. He knew that, and he wouldn’t do anyone any favours if he pretended differently. “Why would I worry about an heir? There are much more important and, quite frankly, much more amusing things in life.” He winked at Charles, who looked almost scandalised. “And besides, I always thought you’d make a much better viscount than I ever could.”
Again, Charles stared at him, for a moment too stunned to say anything. “You cannot be serious?”
Robert shrugged, the need to lighten the mood tucking up the corners of his mouth. “I rarely am. However, today I’ll make an exception.”
“Robert, you cannot−”
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. In a few days, I’ll be gone again. Let us enjoy what time we have together.” Rising from his chair, Robert refilled his drink. “To you and your perfect match,” he said, raising his glass. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Charles. If anyone deserves it, it is you. I am sure you chose well, and that she will make you happy.”
A touched smile playing on his lips, Charles approached him. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome, Brother.”
Chapter Two − A Perfect Match
Seeing her own face in the mirror, Isabella sighed. As her eyes travelled downward, taking in the elegant wedding dress that had once been her mother’s, a small lump settled in her throat, and her hands began to tremble.
Today was the day.
Her wedding day.
After all her careful planning, she was finally here. She had found the man who would make her a fine husband, who would respect and honour her, who cared about her mind as much as he cared about her heart. A man she could share her passion for history with, who knew well the desire to understand foreign cultures and who she could spend entire afternoons with, their noses hidden in a book and enjoy the peaceful silence that simply existed between two like-minded people. Did he ever dream of travelling to these foreign places like she did? Isabella wondered. She didn't know, but there would be plenty of time to find that out.
She had chosen well.
“Why are you marrying him?” Adriana’s voice cut into Isabella’s musings. “He is so dull.”
“Shush,” their mother chided. “This is your sister’s wedding day. Do not ruin it for her.”
From the corner of her eye, Isabella saw Adriana take a step back, shaking her head. She all but felt her sister’s disapproving eyes glide over her as though she had agreed to marry her worst enemy. “If you think him dull, you must think me dull as well,” she said, trying to ignore the sting her sister’s words had caused. “And yet, it would only prove that we suit each other.”
For a long moment, Adriana didn’t say a word. Nonetheless, Isabella’s skin began to crawl as though she was just about to be found out and revealed a liar; as if her sister’s eyes could see through her outer shell and into her core.
A place not even Isabella dared to look.
“There,” her mother whispered, dropping the veil she had been working on. “You can hardly see where it was ripped.” A radiant smile on her face, her mother looked over Isabella’s shoulder, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “You are a most beautiful bride, mi corazon.”
Turning to face her mother, Isabella felt her own lips curl up. “Thank you for everything.” Hugging her mother tight, she met her sister’s calculating gaze and closed her eyes determined to ignore it.
Stepping back, her mother dabbed her eyes. “I’d better go and see to your father.” She gazed at her daughter, and her eyes once more took on a dream-like expression like someone lost in a memory, seeing something no one else could, and the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile. “How beautiful you are,” she whispered before she turned and left the room.
The moment the door closed behind their mother, Adriana came to life. “I implore you, Isabella, think about what you’re doing. He is not the right man for you.”
Isabella sighed, praying for strength. “You’ve been saying this for weeks now. Why won’t you understand? He quite obviously is not the right man for you, but he is for me. Why can you not accept that?” Looking at Adriana, Isabella tried to glimpse what had caused her sister’s stern insistence that marrying Charles was a mistake; for the longer it lasted the more rattled Isabella felt. “Please explain to me why you think he is not the right man for me!” she asked, feeling the last bit of patience slip through her fingers. “You cannot possibly be speaking from personal experience for I do not see a ring on your finger.”
An indulgent smile on her face, Adriana shook her head. “And you won’t until I find it.”
“It?” Isabella asked, avoiding her sister’s eyes by busying herself with arranging and re-arranging her skirt. This discussion made her quite uncomfortable−as always.
“Love,” Adriana whispered as if there could be no question. “True love. The kind Mother and Father have.”
Isabella snorted. “Do not be absurd.”
Brows drawn down, Adriana stepped toward her. “You do not believe that Mother and Father share a true love?”
Isabella shrugged. “I believe they love each other. I do. Yet, I can count the couples that I have seen gazing upon each other the way Mother and Father do on one hand.” Meeting her sister’s eyes, she shook her head. “The love they have is rare. What are the odds of all of us finding it in a mere lifetime? No, I’d rather marry a man I can respect, a man who is a friend, than wait for someone who may not even exist?”
“Who may not even exist?” Adriana echoed, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Have you never felt it? Not once?”
“Felt what? A mild infatuation that cools as soon as the sun rises on the next day?” Isabella smiled at her little sister. “No, I’ve made my choice. You cannot sway me from my path.”
“I only hope you will not come to regret it,” Adriana whispered. “For even these mild infatuations as you call them have the strength to set your world on fire even if it is just for a day or a week. And besides, how do you know they’ll cool? Who knows? Maybe one day, you will meet someone special, and the very sight of him will turn your knees into pudding and set free an armada of butterflies in your belly. What if that happens and you find yourself married already? What will you do then?”
Feeling a lump settle in her stomach, Isabella drew a deep breath. She loved her little sister dearly; yet, her misguided, overly romanticised notion of love was trying on most days. However, today, Isabella felt her own resolve weaken, and doubts steal into her heart and mind. What if…?
No! She called herself to reason. She had made her choice, and she would see it through. After all, what kind of a woman would accept a man’s marriage proposal only to retract it the very day of her wedding? She would be ruined as would her family. Even if her sister were to find the man of her dreams, his family might not approve of the match because of the damage her own refusal to marry Charles had caused. What would Adriana say then?
“I will honour my marriage vows,” Isabella finally said, sitting down on the settee, her trembling hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. “Charles is a wonderful man. You might consider him dull, but to me, he is the answer to my prayers.”
“He is?” Adriana asked, taking a seat beside her sister. “How can that be if you hold no love for him?”
“I care for him deeply, and I believe that as time goes on I will come to care for him a little more each day.” Isabella smiled, feeling the effect of her own words on her heart. A c
omforting warmth spread through her, and she took a deep breath, feeling herself relax. “You know how we met, do you not?”
Adriana nodded.
“I have met many men who believe that a woman’s mind is not capable of rational thought, at least, not in the same way a man’s is.” Isabella shook her head, remembering the many conversations she’d had with men that had made her feel as though she was an empty vessel with no thoughts of her own. “Whenever I speak my mind, these men do not listen or−what might be worse−ignore what I say. They do not care who I am. Their interest never goes below the surface.”
Remembering, a smile tucked at the corners of her mouth. “Charles was different. From the very day we met, he seemed elated to have found someone he could share his thoughts with, someone he could talk to about what he cared about and have that someone understand how deeply he felt about it.” Taking her sister’s hand, Isabella met her eyes. “I felt the same way. We are a match.”
Adriana took a deep breath, and Isabella could see some of the determination to argue leave her body. “I never meant to say that he was not a good man,” her sister relented. “I do remember how happy you always looked whenever you met him at an event and how you would spend most of your time talking about dead civilisations.” Adriana grinned, shaking her head, and Isabella couldn’t help but laugh. “However, I cannot help but wonder if that is enough to make you happy for the rest of your days. Is he truly the man you want to marry? Or is he a man you are afraid to lose if you do not marry him?”
“Of course, I do not want to lose him.” Isabella struggled to find the words to make her sister understand how Charles made her feel. “Without him, I feel incomplete as though something is missing; something vital that I cannot do without.”
“Are you certain?” Adriana asked. “I mean, I can see that you care about him. A lot. Still, the way you spoke of him makes me think that what you cherish about him is his friendship. From what I can tell, he is a good friend. Maybe the only true friend you ever had, and, of course, you cherish him, but is it enough? Enough for a marriage? For you to be his wife?” Adriana shook her head. “What if being husband and wife ruins the friendship you have built? What if neither one of you can go beyond? In your mind, yes, but not where your hearts are concerned.”