“Spinning?” Silence couldn’t think how spinning might concern Lady Hero, but then the aristocracy was a breed apart at times. “We’d best go see.”
Chapter Twenty
“I have one last question for you,” the queen announced to her frowning suitors. “What is in my heart?”
Well! Her question was not met with joy by the three princes. Prince Eastsun frowned and for a moment simply opened and closed his handsome mouth before admitting defeat and bowing from the room. Prince Westmoon scowled and stomped out, muttering about the frivolousness of queens and women in general. Prince Northwind shook his head and said, “Who can understand the heart of a woman?” And then he, too, left.
The advisers, ministers, and men of letters fell to arguing, but Queen Ravenhair quietly left the throne room and made for the stables….
—from Queen Ravenhair
SIX WEEKS LATER…
“He’s a priggish ass, and I don’t see why I should bother to even reply.” Griffin threw the letter from Thomas on the breakfast room table.
Across from him, his wife of only one week continued to serenely pour her tea. “You need to not only answer him, but also agree to see him for dinner because he is your brother.”
“Humph.” Griffin crossed his arms on his chest and attempted to glare at Hero but was somewhat diverted by the magnificence of her décolletage. “Is that a new frock?”
“Yes, and don’t change the subject,” she replied with adorable severity. It always rather aroused him when she attempted to be severe with him.
Of course, his wife could arouse him by reciting the alphabet, too.
“What are you going to do today?” he asked, ignoring her order.
“I’m going to inspect the progress Mr. Templeton’s made on the new home. He thinks they may actually be done before spring. After that, I’ll stop by the home and see how the spinning lessons are going.”
“Splendid!” Griffin had already bought a prize ram and breeding ewes. By spring the children would have new wool to spin.
She smiled. “And then I’m off to a tea at Lady Beckinhall’s, where I hope to persuade her to join my Ladies’ Syndicate for the Benefit of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children.”
He made a show of shuddering. “The name alone strikes fear into my heart.”
“Why?”
“A syndication of ladies involving both one’s wife and one’s sister,” he replied darkly, “would strike fear into any man’s heart.”
“Silly,” she said blithely. “Margaret will laugh when I tell her you said so.”
“And prove my point.”
She gave him a look and set down her cup of tea. “Now, as to your brother—”
“Name me one good reason why I should see him”—Griffin held up a finger as she opened her lips—“besides the fact that I’m unfortunately related to him.”
She smiled sweetly, which he had begun to realize in the last week was a warning sign. “It would please your mother.”
“Huh,” was his devastating reply. The fact was that he’d do almost anything to make Mater happy, and Hero well knew it.
“And,” she said, picking up a piece of toast, “it would please me as well.”
Griffin straightened in outrage at that. “He hit you!”
“And I’ve forgiven him,” she said. “He did give me that incredibly expensive emerald necklace in apology.”
“Lavinia made him do that,” he pointed out.
“It was still a lovely gesture nonetheless.” She eyed him as she crunched her toast. “And that was after he sent me roses daily for three weeks straight. I don’t know why you stopped him.”
“Whole damned house smelled of wilting roses,” Griffin muttered. “Irritating as hell.”
His wife looked at him with those diamond eyes. “Don’t you think that if I can forgive him, you should, too?”
“Huh.” He was huhing a lot since marrying Hero. Rather lowering for one’s self-esteem, that. A devious thought suddenly presented itself. Griffin widened his eyes. “If I endure what will no doubt be a horrible dinner with Thomas, will you kiss me?”
She narrowed her eyes. Lovely, but no fool, was his wife. “I always kiss you.”
“Not,” he said silkily, “that kind of kiss.”
He watched as pink rose in her cheeks. Married a week and he could still make his wife blush, by God! One had to take one’s victories where one could.
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” she hissed incredulously. “That’s rather low, even for you.”
He straightened the cuffs on his coat. “I prefer to think of it as an incentive.”
She snorted delicately.
“Just one kiss.” His eyelids drooped lazily at the thought of her kissing him there. “One tiny, little kiss.”
It was a delight to see her cheeks flame pinker. “Rogue.”
He smiled lazily. “Tease.”
“Will you go?”
“Will you kiss me?”
She bit her lip, and his cock stood at attention. “Perhaps.”
Which was why, several hours later, Griffin found himself mounting the steps of Mandeville House. Not even the remembrance of Hero’s eyes as she’d murmured that “perhaps” improved his mood. He knocked, half hoping that his brother wouldn’t answer and he could just go home to his wife.
But the door opened, and he was admitted and escorted into a dining room. Griffin looked around. At one end of a long mahogany table, his brother was seated. One other place setting lay at Thomas’s right hand. Otherwise the table was empty.
He hadn’t seen Thomas since the day they’d argued. In the intervening weeks, they’d both married, and Thomas—in an interesting role reversal—had endured something of a miniature scandal for marrying the notorious Mrs. Tate.
Griffin strolled toward Thomas. “Where is Lavinia?”