Midnight Bride by Barbara Allister Page A

Dunstan listened to the minutes tick away and tried to remember the details of the previous evening. No matter how hard he tried, the details eluded him. Finally he rose, dressed, and headed down to the usually empty breakfast room. As he walked across the threshold, he stopped in surprise. For once the others were before him.
    "I say, Dunstan, you look chipper this morning. Did you sleep well?" asked the youngest, a brother of one of Charles's closest friends. He winked at Dunstan.
    "Yes," the viscount said quietly. "Until the footman woke me as he lit the fire, I slept wonderfully well."
    "You should have," the young man said, laughing. The others quieted him quickly.
    "What do you mean?" Dunstan looked from Hartley to the others suspiciously
    Hartley stepped in quickly, flashing an angry look at his companions. "You were so castaway when you went up to bed that we made bets whether you would be able to rise today," he added, his voice smooth as treacle.
    Dunstan laughed. "I am lucky that I have such a hard head. I rarely feel the effects of the evening before. But that does explain why my stomach is so unsettled this morning. Now, who bet on me? Fd like to give him my congratulations."
    "None of us," Hartley said quietly, a slight edge to his voice. "Charles is the man you must congratulate."
    "Charles? I will have to give him my thanks for his confidence later." Dunstan looked around the room, his face unconcerned. "What has Cook provided for breakfast this morning?"
    While the others continued their conversations, Dunstan selected his breakfast from warming dishes set along the sideboard. Recognizing the difference between appetites, the cook had prepared not only the usual buns, cakes, coffee, chocolate, fruit, and preserves, but also a ham of noble proportions. Dunstan had the footman slice him some, adding it to his strawberries and bun, and made his way to the table. His stomach still slightly unsettled, he ate slowly, adding a bit to the conversation here and there when someone addressed him.
    Although the others drifted off to find amusements at the stables or in the stream, Hartley stayed behind to keep Dunstan company . He signaled for the footman to fill up the other man's cup. Then he leaned casually back in his chair. "I never thought you were much like your brother Edward until last night," he said musingly.
    "My brother?" Dunstan's face became a mask of disinterest. "How did you know my brother?"
    "We met occasionally," Hartley told him. "Had some friends in common. Last night you reminded me of him."
    The viscount stood up, knocking his chair to the floor. As a footman hurried to set it upright, Dunstan asked, his voice icy and quiet, "How?"
    "Oh, nothing specific. Perhaps just the way you were playing or perhaps your drinking."
    "Thank you for the warning."
    "What?"
    "I do not consider the comparison a compliment."
    "Nor, dear boy, do I," Hartley assured him.
    "Your brother was as big a scoundrel as I ever hope to meet." And stupid as well, he added to himself. Dunstan, he knew, was anything but stupid. "Remember that scandal he caused with the daughter of some cit? Had the poor girl believing he would marry her. It did make an amusing story at the club."
    Remembering the flurry of gossip that had surrounded the event, Dunstan had to agree, but his face never changed. He merely nodded and walked out of the room, heading outside to the garden. After walking through the quiet pathways for some time, he found a marble bench in an isolated corner and sat down, allowing his anger to show on his face. Would he never be free of the reminders? He laughed sardonically. Of course he wouldn't, not as long as men like Hartley wanted to keep the memories alive. And for some reason Hartley did.
    Wondering what his brother had done to the man, Dunstan reviewed what Hartley had said and what he had seemed to say. "Damn! I don't trust him," he said under his breath.
    " 'Scuse me, sir?" A gardener stood only a few feet away,