THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE by Christine Rimmer - THE BRAVO ROYALES (BRAVO FAMILY TIES #41) 08 - THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE

aikido is interesting.”
    “Ah,” said Rafe. “And you wouldn’t be studying aikido at the village school, now, would you?”
    Geoffrey picked up a twig and poked at the mossy ground with it. “Did you...make friends at St Paul’s?”
    “Not at first. I was sure they all hated me and I was determined to hate them right back.”
    “Yes,” Geoffrey muttered. “Exactly.”
    “But then I found out that some of them missed home as much as I did. I found out that they were a lot like me.” He chuckled low. “Or at least, more like me than I had thought at first. It worked itself out. By second term, I got on well enough. I even made a lifelong friend or two during my years at school....”
    Genny watched the two of them—the blond, delicate-featured eight-year-old boy and the scarred, dark giant. Rafe didn’t hurry things, didn’t rush them back to the house. He took his time. Watching him being so good to Geoffrey, saying just the right things to ease a confused eight-year-old’s loneliness and fear, Genny couldn’t help but be reminded of all she so admired about him.
    Surely they could overcome this strangeness and distance between them and forge a union of mutual love and respect.
    “All right,” said Geoffrey at last. “I guess they’ll all be waiting, wondering. Mum will be crying. We should get back.”
    “Excellent,” said Rafe.
    They stood up and brushed the bits of grass from their clothes.
    * * *
    They all three walked back together, the gelding trailing on a lead behind Rafe, Caesar taking up the rear. As they approached the East Wing, a groom appeared and took charge of the horse.
    Brooke was waiting in the East Entrance Hall, still in her dressing gown, crumpled on a delicate white-and-gold side chair, sobbing into her hands, her long hair falling forward. At the sound of their footsteps on the inlaid floor, she yanked her shoulders up and raked all that hair back off her forehead. “Geoffrey. My God. You have scared me out of my wits!” She leapt up and ran to him. Dropping to a crouch in front of him, the long, filmy skirts of her robe fanning on the floor like the petals of some giant flower, she grabbed him in a hug and sobbed on his small shoulder. “How could you?”
    Genny and Rafe shared a glance. She knew he wanted to intervene as much as she did, to try to get Brooke to ease off. But intervening would most likely only make things worse.
    So they said nothing as Brooke cried, “You horrid, cruel little beast!”
    Geoffrey turned his head away and mumbled in obvious misery, “Sorry, Mum....”
    “Sorry? Sorry!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and glared at him furiously. “Don’t you ever, ever—”
    “Brooke.” Rafe did cut in then. “He’s back. He knows he did wrong. Could you dial it down a notch?”
    Brooke gasped, released Geoffrey and surged to her feet. She shot her brother a venomous look—a look that seemed to bounce off his huge shoulder and end up aimed straight at Genny. “You...” She let out a hard, ragged breath full of pure venom. Her blue eyes shone with righteous fury. “Rory told us you took off for the castle without telling a soul.”
    “Well, but you just said it yourself, Brooke. I did tell Rory,” Genny reminded her hopefully.
    Brooke sniffed, all wounded nobility now. “The point is you should have told
me.
I’m his mother after all. I’m the one who has the right to know every bit of new information first in a terrifying situation such as this. But you didn’t tell me, did you, Your Highness? You didn’t say a word to me. You just ran off to save him, to have all the glory for yourself.”
    Rafe said warningly, “Brooke...”
    Genny silenced him with a touch of her hand on his big, hard arm. “I apologize. I’m sorry you weren’t informed.” She spoke gently, hoping to diffuse the coming tirade before it really got going.
    But that only brought another outraged gasp from Brooke. “Oh, please. You’re not the least sorry and we