it
to
you. I simply need to deal with this new situation and, hopefully, to resolve it in a fashion that works for everyone.”
“Aren’t you the empathetic arbiter?”
In a fit of temper, he whirled away and hurried to the stairs, marching up to the seclusion of his bedchamber.
How dare Michael institute so many changes without discussion or consultation! Yes, it was Michael’s house. Yes, he owned every knickknack and bauble, but the accursed dwelling was Alex’s home, too.
Michael had welcomed guests, hired employees, and rearranged sleeping quarters, without soliciting Alex’s opinion. There were so many people joining them, the floor piled high with their luggage, that the main foyer resembled a coaching inn.
Where was he to hide? How was he to have any peace?
He was hurt, despairing, and wanting Michael to . . . to . . .
He couldn’t decide what he wanted from his brother. Michael had been naught but attentive and considerate about the maiming, but every word spewed from his mouth was like salt on a wound.
Michael seemed to have everything, while Alex had nothing. He was wretched, pessimistic, deplorable in his drive to wallow in misery.
What abominable fortune had conspired to lay him low? Others had endured worse fates, had died, sacrificed limbs, or grown crazed from war madness, but his arrogance had slain him with the humiliation of his disfigurement.
Why me?
he woefully, disgustedly, mourned for the thousandth time.
Stomping into his room, he slammed the door, as a feminine gasp froze him in his tracks. He whipped around to see an unfamiliar woman hovering in the threshold to his dressing chamber. Close to his own age of twenty-six, she was exceptionally pretty. She had brunette hair, worn in a fetching chignon, big green eyes, and a mature, curvaceous body that was rounded where it should be, and thin where it should be, too.
His loud entrance had startled her, and her fist was clutched to her splendid bosom. She was winsome, alluring, but overtly befuddled, and during any other period of his life, he’d have acted the part of the gentleman he’d been raised to be.
“Who the hell are you,” he crudely demanded, “and what are you doing?”
“I most humbly beg your pardon,” she responded in a steady, soothing voice. “I believe I’m lost. I’m so dreadfully sorry.”
She reached out and groped for purchase, and he was shocked to discover that she was blind as a bat. She had to be a member of the governess’s family, which meant that Michael had failed to divulge the relevant details.
A blind woman? Living with them? What next! He was trapped in a madhouse, against his will, and without the financial wherewithal to flee!
“You most certainly
are
lost. Have you no better sense than to inflict yourself where you don’t belong?”
Astonished by his rudeness, she bristled but hastily stifled the reaction. “It was an innocent mistake. There’s no cause for discourtesy.”
“Don’t let it happen again. I don’t care to have outsiders invading my privacy.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“It’s quite uncivil of you to be wandering around where you’re not wanted.”
A scarlet wave of embarrassment washed over her. “It was an accident.”
“A pitiful excuse.” She possessed the regalness of a queen, which had him feeling petty and small, and he wished he could bite off his impolite tongue, yet he kept berating her.
“I’ll be going,” she snapped, “and whilst I’m on the premises, I shall guarantee that our paths don’t cross.”
“I would appreciate it.”
“So would I.”
She’d told him, hadn’t she? It was his turn to blush, but with shame.
In recent months, he couldn’t calculate how often he’d rebuked acquaintances, or chastised the servants, many of whom had worked for the family since before he was born. Nary a one had commented. Not even Michael. As though Alex were made of glass, others tiptoed around him, anxious about his mental state,
to
you. I simply need to deal with this new situation and, hopefully, to resolve it in a fashion that works for everyone.”
“Aren’t you the empathetic arbiter?”
In a fit of temper, he whirled away and hurried to the stairs, marching up to the seclusion of his bedchamber.
How dare Michael institute so many changes without discussion or consultation! Yes, it was Michael’s house. Yes, he owned every knickknack and bauble, but the accursed dwelling was Alex’s home, too.
Michael had welcomed guests, hired employees, and rearranged sleeping quarters, without soliciting Alex’s opinion. There were so many people joining them, the floor piled high with their luggage, that the main foyer resembled a coaching inn.
Where was he to hide? How was he to have any peace?
He was hurt, despairing, and wanting Michael to . . . to . . .
He couldn’t decide what he wanted from his brother. Michael had been naught but attentive and considerate about the maiming, but every word spewed from his mouth was like salt on a wound.
Michael seemed to have everything, while Alex had nothing. He was wretched, pessimistic, deplorable in his drive to wallow in misery.
What abominable fortune had conspired to lay him low? Others had endured worse fates, had died, sacrificed limbs, or grown crazed from war madness, but his arrogance had slain him with the humiliation of his disfigurement.
Why me?
he woefully, disgustedly, mourned for the thousandth time.
Stomping into his room, he slammed the door, as a feminine gasp froze him in his tracks. He whipped around to see an unfamiliar woman hovering in the threshold to his dressing chamber. Close to his own age of twenty-six, she was exceptionally pretty. She had brunette hair, worn in a fetching chignon, big green eyes, and a mature, curvaceous body that was rounded where it should be, and thin where it should be, too.
His loud entrance had startled her, and her fist was clutched to her splendid bosom. She was winsome, alluring, but overtly befuddled, and during any other period of his life, he’d have acted the part of the gentleman he’d been raised to be.
“Who the hell are you,” he crudely demanded, “and what are you doing?”
“I most humbly beg your pardon,” she responded in a steady, soothing voice. “I believe I’m lost. I’m so dreadfully sorry.”
She reached out and groped for purchase, and he was shocked to discover that she was blind as a bat. She had to be a member of the governess’s family, which meant that Michael had failed to divulge the relevant details.
A blind woman? Living with them? What next! He was trapped in a madhouse, against his will, and without the financial wherewithal to flee!
“You most certainly
are
lost. Have you no better sense than to inflict yourself where you don’t belong?”
Astonished by his rudeness, she bristled but hastily stifled the reaction. “It was an innocent mistake. There’s no cause for discourtesy.”
“Don’t let it happen again. I don’t care to have outsiders invading my privacy.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“It’s quite uncivil of you to be wandering around where you’re not wanted.”
A scarlet wave of embarrassment washed over her. “It was an accident.”
“A pitiful excuse.” She possessed the regalness of a queen, which had him feeling petty and small, and he wished he could bite off his impolite tongue, yet he kept berating her.
“I’ll be going,” she snapped, “and whilst I’m on the premises, I shall guarantee that our paths don’t cross.”
“I would appreciate it.”
“So would I.”
She’d told him, hadn’t she? It was his turn to blush, but with shame.
In recent months, he couldn’t calculate how often he’d rebuked acquaintances, or chastised the servants, many of whom had worked for the family since before he was born. Nary a one had commented. Not even Michael. As though Alex were made of glass, others tiptoed around him, anxious about his mental state,
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