Page 28 of Vanquished By A Viscount
It took a painful amount of time for Charlie to settle Barbara’s upset enough for her to leave him alone so that he could enjoy his bath before it cooled.
“And he was so unfeeling,” Barbara lamented to him, pacing the length of his bedroom while Olivier observed from the corner of the room and Charlie stood helplessly, his wet clothes still clinging to his cold, clammy skin. “He had no sympathy at all for the pressures that have been placed upon me and the care I must show for my esteemed guests.”
“I am certain he was merely out of sorts because of the rain,” Charlie said, following Barbara’s pacing with his eyes, then sending Olivier a pleading look as he gingerly picked at his clothing. He hoped his sister would recognize his actions as a cue to depart or that she would see Olivier’s subtle gestures that he was impatient for her to go as well.
“Oh, no,” Barbara insisted. “Robert has been extraordinarily unfeeling these many weeks now, particularly on the matter of?—”
She paused, her cheeks pinking, resting her hands on her stomach for a moment.
Charlie shifted awkwardly, his boots squishing, not wishing to know any more about the subject he was certain was on his sister’s mind.
“If I had known that a husband is a creature far more unfeeling than a brother, I never would have exchanged one for the other,” Barbara went on, pacing back toward him. “You are and always have been my rock, Charlie.” She gazed adoringly up at him, but there was an equal amount of sadness in her look as well.
Charlie winced, hoping Barbara saw it as a smile. It was not that he believed he had been too kind to his sister. Barbara deserved the very best. But he was not so detached from the matters of husbands and wives to know that it was imperative a woman trusted and cleaved to her husband more than her brother.
“I am certain everything will resolve itself in the end,” he said, holding Barbara’s arms gently and leaning forward to kiss her forehead, careful not to drip on her. He stepped back and gestured for Olivier to bring him a towel from the stack on the table where the man stood.
Charlie hoped Barbara would take the gesture for the dismissal it was, but the dear, distressed woman continued to chatter at him for another ten minutes as Olivier attempted to shoo her as well. She only left him when a maid knocked on the door to inform her tea was nearly ready to be served in the conservatory.
By the time Charlie was able to strip out of his sodden clothing, hand it and his boots over to Olivier to take downstairs for cleaning and mending, and sink into the tub that had been brought to his room, the water was tepid at best. What should have been a relaxing bath ended up being a quick scrub to remove the mud of the road. His time in the water did not evenafford him the opportunity to let his thoughts wander to Gray and the wickedness they’d experienced in the carriage.
It had been wonderful. Charlie admitted as much to himself once he got out of the tub, dried off, then pulled one of the room’s chairs closer to the fire so that he might warm his frozen bones while waiting for Olivier to return with his other boots, which had been taken downstairs for polishing the day before. Though Gray had changed slightly in stature over the past seven years, his form was still fit and lithe, and though they’d done nothing more than using their hands to bring each other off, Charlie’s memories of times that Gray had shamelessly ridden his cock, head thrown back, movements frantic, had been ignited.
“You’ll do yourself no good by remembering those things,” he muttered, staring into the fire in his grate as he warmed himself.
A blink later and he considered that it did not matter whether he tortured himself with memories of the past or no, he could very well have Gray bouncing on his balls that same night. The arrangement they’d made allowed for the two of them to exorcise whatever sensual demons continued to plague them for the very purpose of freeing their thoughts during the day for other things.
All the same, rather than going down to join the rest of the party and risking seeing Gray too soon, Charlie spent the remainder of the afternoon in his bedchamber, keeping warm and dry by the fire with a book while the rain finally wore itself out. He spent some time catching up with Olivier when his man returned with his boots, telling himself it was more important to show kindness to his most loyal servant than to indulge in the sight of his former lover. It was a convenient way to hide from his overexcited feelings.
By evening, he felt obliged to join the rest of Barbara’s party for supper, though almost immediately when he arrived downstairs in the dining room, he wished he hadn’t.
“I have ruined three pairs of shoes already in the past few days,” Miss Martin was telling Mr. Gunnerson as they entered the dining room. “Three pairs! And it is not as if shoes grow on trees.”
“No, it isn’t,” Gunnerson said, seeming not only disinterested in Miss Martin’s conversation, but excessively bored by it.
At least until Miss Martin said, “Papa might be one of the wealthiest industrialists in Leeds, but I cannot ask him for new shoes in the dozens.”
Gunnerson perked up at the mention of Mr. Martin’s wealth and apparently changed his mind about sitting at the far end of the table, pulling a chair out for Miss Martin instead and sitting next to her.
Grayson was already seated at the far end of the table. As soon as Charlie entered the room, their eyes met. Charlie marshalled his self-control and pretended Gray was as inconsequential to him as any of the other guests, but his pulse kicked up.
“Perhaps Lady Felcourt could arrange an expedition to a cobbler, now that the weather appears to be changing,” Gunnerson continued his conversation with a renewed smile.
Miss Martin smiled back at him, but before the two could further their conversation, Lady Sandridge butted in with, “My Eudora’s boots will never be the same. Neither will her poor petticoats. Kent has been a disappointment all around as of yet.”
Charlie had just made up his mind to sit near the end of the table near Gray, but when he saw that Barbara heard Lady Sandridge’s snide comment, when her face fell and her lip quivered as if she might burst into tears, he quickly changed direction and made his way to sit by Barbara’s side.
“One cannot help the weather, Lady Sandridge,” Robert said, frowning at the woman instead of rushing to Barbara’s aid. Charlie could have dismissed that, but Robert then glanced sideways at Barbara and said, “Though one could also have chosen a different day to take the carriages out.”
“As I recall,” Barbara said in a too-high voice with clipped tones, “you not only approved of the outing when I suggested it, you rushed to have the carriages prepared and brought around.”
“Out of care for you, my dear,” Robert said, his patience clearly thin. “Not because I deemed the excursion appropriate.”
Barbara huffed and took her seat, crossing her arms in a way that made her look like her fourteen-year-old self.
Charlie cleared his throat and took his seat close to Barbara’s side, across the table from Robert. He sent his brother-in-law a cautionary look. Robert had the decency to acknowledge that look with a somewhat guilty one, then to attempt a smile for Barbara. Barbara was not interested in the olive branch, however.
Fighting not to roll his eyes, Charlie looked down the table at Gray. He would not have forgiven Gray if the man had been sniggering at Barbara and her fit of pique, but fortunately, Gray’s look was merely one of concern.
