A Noble Pair of Brothers (The Underwood Mysteries Book 1) by Suzanne Downes Page B

rather fusty brother.  A woman of spirit was just what C. H. needed to liven him and sweep away any of those grim cobwebs which might still be lurking in the dark reaches of his mind.  He would have been vastly amused had he known Underwood had been having similar thoughts, but regarding Miss Wynter and the vicar.
    Underwood’s cogitations at that moment, however, were far from any hint of romance, for himself or his brother.  His intention had been to spend his day beginning his investigations and he had, rather callously, almost forgotten the events of the previous afternoon, except in the light of what Charlotte had told him of the scene of the crime.
    “Most certainly not,” he answered promptly, “Miss Wynter would appear to know very little of the incident, but for the fact that the body was found on her father’s land.  The gory details, very properly, have been kept from her.  There are several others I should like to interview before I turn my attention to her.”
    The vicar stayed very calm – admirably so under the circumstances, for he was not entirely sure that his brother was not being deliberately obtuse in order to annoy him, “I was referring to a social call, to enquire after her health.  She was, after all, in your company when she came by her injury – trying to do you a service, if my recollection of the event is not at fault.  I should have thought a polite enquiry was the very least she could expect from you.”
    “I don’t see what it has to do with me.  I never asked her to leave the path, she went tripping off after bluebells, of all things, and I certainly had no idea her father had man-traps littered about the place!”
    “That’s hardly the issue.  She did not desert you when you asked for help, did she?  Left to your own devices, it might well have been you who fell into a trap.”
    “Ah!”  Mr. Underwood was unable to deny that this was indeed a valid point, but he made one last effort to escape the meshes of duty which the vicar had cast about him,
    “Perhaps she would prefer a visit from you, Gil.  She seemed prodigiously fond of you – she was at pains to tell me how very popular you are.”
    Gil straightened himself and managed to muster a great deal of dignity with the simple movement, “Naturally I fully intend to accompany you.  I, at least, need no reminders of my duty!”
    Underwood had no choice but to consider himself duly chastised and set about finishing his disturbed meal with no further quibbling, but an air of injured reluctance.
    He very nearly balked again when he was handed a bunch of flowers from the garden, and told severely that they were to be given to the invalid, “Good God, Gil!  I haven’t presented a posy to a woman for nigh on twenty years.  I was a green boy the last time I had any such inclination!”
      “Then the time is long overdue for you to do it again.”
    The vicar barely restrained himself from laughing out loud at the sight of Underwood carry a bunch of flowers from which he was trying strenuously to disassociate himself.  The gift was dangling from his fingers, heads down, almost dragging in the dust and Mr. Underwood was attempting to look nonchalant, but was making a poor job of it.  He was hideously embarrassed, and could only be grateful that none of his irreverent students were about to witness his discomfiture.
    He was normally a man very much in control of his life, amiable and orderly, but if anything could be relied upon to discompose him it was the presence of women.  He saw very little of the fairer sex in his cloistered University life and he was honest enough to admit that he preferred it that way.  Life seemed infinitely less complicated without the necessity of including another person in every decision taken.  Years had slipped by and now, through lack of practise, he had simply forgotten how to treat women. It was unfamiliarity which had engendered the entire race with a cloak of fearsome mystery,