Page 14
“I mostly provide introductions and credentials. The Markham name carries weight, even in Europe. Lorenzo is the true connoisseur. It runs in his veins. He had a great-great-something uncle who worked in the workshops of both Botticelli and Da Vinci.”
Philip nodded.
A handful of years older than Sebastian, they shared the same features, but the duke's hair was close-cropped, his manner more serious. It was a clash of temperament between Philip, ever the duty-bound peer, and Sebastian, who considered what was de rigueur in high society to be of scant importance.
That was the prerogative of a spare. Although, with the duke now having an heir, he supposed he was a spare no longer. He was just a wayward relation who had left for his Grand Tour and never returned.
Philip nodded again, appearing momentarily at a loss for words as he leaned over to pour his own cup before settling back in his chair.
Sebastian watched closely, noting the subtle tightening of his brother’s broad shoulders.
As if he were bracing for battle.
“Why are you here?”
“I am doing a favor for Lorenzo. Retrieving something. Hopefully, we will depart from London soon.”
Especially if the painting was lost.
Which was when Sebastian realized, in the heat of his anger, that he had quit Harriet’s home without learning who she had given it to.
Bloody fool.
He wanted to curse himself for his stupidity, because once Lorenzo heard the news, he would be relentless, harassing Sebastian into returning to Harriet for more conclusive information.
Deuce it!
It was as if London had grabbed hold of him in its suffocating embrace, refusing to release him until he drowned in memories and regrets.
After all this time, why had he not found another woman to capture his heart? Was it because he no longer had a heart to give?
Philip’s baritone interrupted his wandering thoughts, yanking him back to the contentious subject that had severed their bond so many years earlier.
“Does it have anything to do with Lady Slight?”
Sebastian stiffened, setting down his cup to think.
“Why do you ask?”
“She is why you left. I wondered if she is why you have returned.”
“I think, perhaps, we should not discuss Harriet.”
Philip sighed sharply, setting his cup down with a decisive clink before rising abruptly to return to the window.
“I should never have allowed Lady Hargreaves and her daughter to visit Avonmead as often as they did.”
“We are neighbors. It is the way of things in the country.”
“It was a mistake I have long regretted.”
“Because of Lord Hargreaves?”
“Precisely. The man is poison. And the water drawn from that well is logically compromised.”
Sebastian’s fist clenched, his carefully maintained equilibrium threatening to shatter.
More than five years had passed, yet they had resumed this argument as if it had begun only this morning.
