be my deceased brother and duping my grieving sister-in-law. I have proof that you are—or rather
he—
is dead.”
Grieving sister-in-law? Since when did Nigel ever concern himself with her grief? And what game was he playing?
“Proof?” Michael raised a brow, appearing calm and controlled. “And does this proof consist of a dead body?”
Nigel hesitated. “No, but—”
Michael slapped his gloves against his palm. “That is enough. You have a week.”
“This is preposterous.”
Michael stared his brother down until Nigel looked away. “Good day, Nigel. It was wonderful seeing you, as usual.”
Michael turned and headed to the door as if Nigel hadn’t spoken at all. He exited the drawing room, leaving a quivering Grace alone with Nigel.
“I will protest, of course,” Nigel said into the room. He did not look at her, and she wondered if he remembered she was there.
Could he protest? She was well aware that the title could not pass to Nigel while Michael was alive, but what if Nigel protested? Could someone discover Michael’s true injury? If Nigel got wind that Michael’s mind was not what it used to be then he could petition to take control of the Blackbourne fortune, and that would kill Michael.
“How long have you known he’s alive?” Nigel spun on her, his face twisted in fury, causing Grace to step back. Apparently, he had not forgotten she was there.
“I found out three days ago,” she said.
“You had no idea?”
“That he was alive? None.”
“And you believe this man is your dead husband?”
“I know this man to be my husband and your brother. Are you not somewhat happy to learn that your brother is alive? Does it mean nothing to you, or are you only concerned about losing the title?”
“Of course I’m happy,” he said, rather too quickly. “But I have to protect the interest of the family, and I have to protect you, Grace. You are too grief-stricken to see something other than what you want to see.”
“I see someone ravaged by war and wanting nothing more than to settle into a life he thought he lost. I see you, Nigel, being selfish and greedy.”
“Ravaged by war?” Nigel asked, suddenly interested.
Grace could curse herself for speaking from the heart, and she could curse Nigel for hearing only what he wanted to hear. He didn’t doubt that Michael was his brother. He was just desperately eager to hold on to a title and a fortune.
“The least you could have done was welcome him home,” she said in disgust. “You didn’t even ask if he was well.”
Her anger was nearly overpowering, but she managed to control it. She wasn’t angry for herself. She could have fought easily for what she wanted in the last year, but she had chosen not to because her energy had been spent mourning her husband. Her anger was directed at Nigel and his attitude toward Michael.
“You are despicable.” Grace swept out of the room. She smiled at Alfred as she left, but it was strained. Michael was pacing outside of the carriage. When he spotted her, he wordlessly helped her into the carriage and shut the door behind them, not waiting for George to help them and they immediately rolled away.
Strangely, she understood Nigel’s anger and fear. Her life had been turned upside down once before. She knew what it felt like to be uprooted, to not know what was going to happen next, and to have to leave your home so another could take up residence.
“When did my brother become such a bastard?” Michael asked when he was settled on the opposite seat. “He treated you ill, didn’t he, Grace?”
“I tended to stay away from him as much as possible. But treating me ill? No, I wouldn’t say that. I was too insignificant for him to treat me ill.”
“I apologize for his behavior. If I could, I would evict him from the manor today.”
“I would not like it if you did so. He deserves some time to get his business in order. We aren’t in any hurry, are we?”
Michael looked out the
he—
is dead.”
Grieving sister-in-law? Since when did Nigel ever concern himself with her grief? And what game was he playing?
“Proof?” Michael raised a brow, appearing calm and controlled. “And does this proof consist of a dead body?”
Nigel hesitated. “No, but—”
Michael slapped his gloves against his palm. “That is enough. You have a week.”
“This is preposterous.”
Michael stared his brother down until Nigel looked away. “Good day, Nigel. It was wonderful seeing you, as usual.”
Michael turned and headed to the door as if Nigel hadn’t spoken at all. He exited the drawing room, leaving a quivering Grace alone with Nigel.
“I will protest, of course,” Nigel said into the room. He did not look at her, and she wondered if he remembered she was there.
Could he protest? She was well aware that the title could not pass to Nigel while Michael was alive, but what if Nigel protested? Could someone discover Michael’s true injury? If Nigel got wind that Michael’s mind was not what it used to be then he could petition to take control of the Blackbourne fortune, and that would kill Michael.
“How long have you known he’s alive?” Nigel spun on her, his face twisted in fury, causing Grace to step back. Apparently, he had not forgotten she was there.
“I found out three days ago,” she said.
“You had no idea?”
“That he was alive? None.”
“And you believe this man is your dead husband?”
“I know this man to be my husband and your brother. Are you not somewhat happy to learn that your brother is alive? Does it mean nothing to you, or are you only concerned about losing the title?”
“Of course I’m happy,” he said, rather too quickly. “But I have to protect the interest of the family, and I have to protect you, Grace. You are too grief-stricken to see something other than what you want to see.”
“I see someone ravaged by war and wanting nothing more than to settle into a life he thought he lost. I see you, Nigel, being selfish and greedy.”
“Ravaged by war?” Nigel asked, suddenly interested.
Grace could curse herself for speaking from the heart, and she could curse Nigel for hearing only what he wanted to hear. He didn’t doubt that Michael was his brother. He was just desperately eager to hold on to a title and a fortune.
“The least you could have done was welcome him home,” she said in disgust. “You didn’t even ask if he was well.”
Her anger was nearly overpowering, but she managed to control it. She wasn’t angry for herself. She could have fought easily for what she wanted in the last year, but she had chosen not to because her energy had been spent mourning her husband. Her anger was directed at Nigel and his attitude toward Michael.
“You are despicable.” Grace swept out of the room. She smiled at Alfred as she left, but it was strained. Michael was pacing outside of the carriage. When he spotted her, he wordlessly helped her into the carriage and shut the door behind them, not waiting for George to help them and they immediately rolled away.
Strangely, she understood Nigel’s anger and fear. Her life had been turned upside down once before. She knew what it felt like to be uprooted, to not know what was going to happen next, and to have to leave your home so another could take up residence.
“When did my brother become such a bastard?” Michael asked when he was settled on the opposite seat. “He treated you ill, didn’t he, Grace?”
“I tended to stay away from him as much as possible. But treating me ill? No, I wouldn’t say that. I was too insignificant for him to treat me ill.”
“I apologize for his behavior. If I could, I would evict him from the manor today.”
“I would not like it if you did so. He deserves some time to get his business in order. We aren’t in any hurry, are we?”
Michael looked out the
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