Bride for a Night(113)

“Should I be like you, Rothwell?” he demanded. “Strutting about as if I own the damned world and expecting the lesser folk to worship at my feet?”

“Can we finish this squabble later?” Gabriel interrupted, his attention never wavering from his brother. “Where does the passageway lead?”

“To the cellars.”

Gabriel nodded, the faintest hope stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Was it possible they might slip past the guards unnoticed?

“Is there a way out of the house?”

“Yes, there is a coal chute that opens in the back garden.” Harry grimaced as he glanced down at his expensive jacket that was marred with black streaks. “Which explains why my once pristine coat is now ruined beyond repair.”

“Is it guarded?”

“No.” Harry brushed a clinging cobweb from his arm. “So far as I can determine no one has been in the passageway for years. I doubt Jacques is aware that they even exist.”

“Does one of the passages lead upstairs?”

Harry frowned at the abrupt question. “I have not inspected them that far.”

Without warning, Hugo had moved to grasp Gabriel’s arm, his expression rigid with disbelief.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” he barked. “You cannot mean to trust him.”

Gabriel scowled. “You believe this to be a trap?”

Hugo growled in disgust. “I think Harry would happily lead both of us to the slaughter if it meant him becoming the next Earl of Ashcombe,” he cruelly reminded Gabriel. “It is what he has always desired.”

“Dammit,” Harry burst out, appearing unbearably harassed. “Why would anyone believe that I would want your stupid title?” He waved his arms in a motion that nearly sent a carved crystal chess set tumbling from the pier table to the ground. “It is nothing but tedious duty and responsibility that I have sought to avoid my entire life, not to mention an endless parade of folks constantly demanding one thing or another. I should rather toss myself in the sea than be burdened with your position.”

Hugo’s laugh cut sharply through the library. “I could assist you into the sea…”

“Hugo,” Gabriel wearily muttered.

His friend had always taken great delight in antagonizing Harry, but now there was an added edge of violence he could barely constrain.

Harry, of course, did nothing to ease the tension. Indeed, the sardonic curl of his lips was a deliberate attempt to goad the large nobleman.

“Well, Gabriel,” he prodded. “Do you believe I am here to lead you into a trap?”

Gabriel’s lips twisted. “You have not made it easy to trust you, Harry.”

A flush crawled over Harry’s narrow face, making him appear young and oddly vulnerable.

“I may be a debauched scoundrel who has betrayed his country, but I have never wished you harm, brother,” he insisted, his voice harsh with sincerity. “Never, ever that.”

The two brothers stared at one another, the years briefly falling away to when they had been just two carefree lads running about the massive estate and causing mischief whenever they could slip away from the nursery. That had been before the old earl had determined it was time for Gabriel to begin his training as the heir apparent and Harry had been left in the hands of his overly indulgent mother.

When they had been…brothers.

The fragile connection was broken as Hugo’s fingers dug into Gabriel’s arm with obvious irritation.

“He may not have wished your death, but you may be certain that if Jacques gave him the choice between his life or yours, he would choose his own every time,” he gritted.