Chapter 5
Any time he’d attended his mother and father’s house parties, Graham had relished these moments of solitude.
In fact, he’d made it a point to seek out that blessed gift whenever and wherever he could.
Now, he found himself, as he’d been at so many of the previous parties before, alone—and wishing for the company of another.
More specifically… his wife.
“Psst, Graham.”
He started.
“Over here, Graham.”
Following the endearingly loud child’s whisper to the opposite intersecting hall, he found Frederick lurking around the corner.
“I didn’t hear you,” he acknowledged, the words coming out for the praiseworthy ones they were. Frederick’s furtive steps could one day see the boy with a role in the Brethren, if he so wished it. On the heels of that was the significance of finding Frederick lurking here and not in the nursery. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Fine, fine. My sisters went exploring to see the Portrait Rooms, and I was alone and bored.”
“Well, we cannot have that.” Graham threw an arm around the boy’s small shoulders. “Allow me to take you to my most favorite of places to sneak off to during these dull affairs.”
“Oh, they aren’t dull,” Frederick contradicted. “There’s so many people here, and the gentlemen were off taking drinks and laughing. All very exciting stuff.”
The three children had been granted an anonymity that lent a level of intrigue to the duke and duchess’ grand affair. Graham had never shared that joy. Unlike Frederick, Creda, and Iris, Graham had been perpetually on display and had hated it all. Not wanting to kill the boy’s joy, he neatly directed them to the last room at the end of the corridor. “Now, this is very exciting stuff,” he promised as he pressed the handle. “The bill…” His words trailed off at finding that he and Frederick were not the first to appropriate the room for the evening.
Heath.
Graham’s brother was poised over the table as the world never saw him, sans jacket and his shirtsleeves rolled up. Graham hadn’t seen such negligence in his attire since—he scoured his mind—he couldn’t even remember.
“Billiards,” Frederick whispered in reverent awe.
“Forgive me,” Graham said stiffly. “I didn’t realize the room was occupied.” He gave Frederick’s shoulder a light squeeze. “We should—”
“Please, won’t you join me?” Heath directed the unexpected invitation not to Graham, but rather, the little boy at his side. He completed his shot.
Frederick raised a pleading gaze to Graham’s.
As a rule, Graham made it a point to avoid his brother. In fairness, they both went out of their way to do so. Alas, working for the Brethren, Graham had received enough training that he could put on a false show for his son’s benefit. “Of course.”
Letting out an excited whoop, Frederick went racing over to the red-velvet-lined table and gripped the edges of the broad mahogany piece.
“Frederick, may I present… my brother, Lord Heath,” he said as he closed the door behind them.
That brought the boy up short. “You’re… brothers?” He scratched at his puckered brow. “You don’t seem like you’re brothers.”
“Indeed, we are,” Heath drawled. Wandering over to the cue shelf, Heath retrieved two additional sticks. “And come… we’re of a ducal family, but I daresay my new nephew might call me Uncle,” he offered, tossing one of the sticks across the table. Frederick scrambled to catch it. “Or, at least, Heath.” He followed that with a wink for the boy’s benefit.
Heath? Uncle? What in blazes…?
Collecting himself, Graham joined the pair at the table and accepted the cue. His brother didn’t even bother looking at him, instead speaking to Frederick.
“Have you played before, Frederick?”
The boy gave a mighty shake of his head. “I haven’t. I’ve always wanted to. My father once told me that I was too little to ever be good at it… or anything,” he tacked on, almost as an afterthought.
That casual admission froze both Graham and his brother in their tracks. Even after a month of learning the cruelty and pain Frederick and his sisters and mother had suffered at the hands of the late viscount, the reality had the ability to cleave Graham in two every time.
Over the top of Frederick’s head, Heath at last spared a look for Graham. And of all the wonders and shocks, it appeared that they, two brothers who’d been at odds the whole of their lives, could prove united in something, after all—a shared outrage for Frederick’s revealing admission.
“Is…” Frederick cleared his throat. “Is it a problem that I don’t kn-know how to play?” he asked, misinterpreting the reason for the silence blanketing the room.
Heath caught Frederick’s shoulder in a like manner to how Graham had lightly gripped him in the hall and then patted his arm. “No, lessons are perfect.” He dipped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That way, you can learn from the best.”
It was that usual cocksure arrogance that had been the most natural of skins for his brother to wear, and it had always grated. Only this time, as Frederick giggled, there was none of Graham’s usual enmity toward his brother.
“First, both opponents’ balls are white, but one of them”—Heath lifted it in display—“is marked with a black dot. We also require a red object ball. Each player”—he glanced to Frederick—“or team?”
Content to observe the pair, Graham waved Heath on.
“Each team or player use a different ball,” his brother finished. Leaning over the table, Heath brought his cue into position. “The trick to striking a ball,” he said to the boy hanging on his every word, “is to move your arm slowly back.” He demonstrated the smooth movement. “And then forward in a pendulum motion.” He urged Frederick into a like position.
The boy practiced, his movements slightly jerky.
“Keep the rest of your body still,” Heath coached. “Now, when you’re ready, strike whichever cue you decide.”
Frederick continued shifting, testing the motions, and then he let his stick fly.
The balls cracked as he found his mark.
Frederick let out a triumphant shout. “Graham! Did you see…? I did it!”
With a grin, Graham brought his hands together, clapping. “Bravo. As Heath said, you’ve learned… from the best.” And where that statement would have been uttered only with jaded mockery, this time… there was none.
All Graham’s life he’d used his brother’s successes as the bellwether for his own successes… and, more commonly, failures. Only to find in this moment that he didn’t need to compete with Heath. What Heath accomplished or achieved wasn’t a mark against Graham, or evidence of any flaw in Graham. It was simply… a skill his brother possessed, independent from Graham.
Graham went and made himself a drink at the rosewood-inlaid tantalus. As he sipped brandy, he studied the pair at play in the crystal windowpane. The full moon’s glow cast a bright shine upon the glass, bringing Frederick and Heath into better focus. They moved about the table, conversing as easily as if they’d known each other the whole of the boy’s life. All the while, they alternated between Heath’s meticulous billiards lesson and some lighthearted remark made to the boy that earned one of Frederick’s precious laughs.
Graham glanced into the amber contents of his snifter and let himself think about the last time he’d played billiards with his older brother.
“I don’t want to play with you. You always beat me… and you’re always mean about it, Heath.”
“Fine. Don’t play with me, Shelly. Father is right. You’re a whiny baby who can’t do anything anyway.”
Frederick laughed, that snorting expression of mirth at odds with the memory Graham carried of the misery he’d endured during any game with the man who now got on so easily with Martha’s son.
Shaking off the melancholy thought, he faced the pair. “I’m afraid that must be the end of the billiards lesson for the evening,” Graham said. “Your mother will surely be stopping by your rooms.” As he’d come to learn in the short time they’d lived together as husband and wife, Martha performed the nightly ritual with each of her children.
Frederick groaned. “Awww. Can’t I just play five more minutes?”
Heath set his stick on the side of the table. “We can have another lesson tomorrow,” he promised. He paused. “Or perhaps Graham might deliver your next one.”
It was a veiled acknowledgment that Heath thought he might have overstepped and now graciously backed away from that interference.
Handing over his stick, Frederick dropped a bow. “I had a good time, Lord… Heath. Graham.” He called out the parting greeting with a wave before he dashed off.
And Graham and his brother were left—alone.
Tension crackled like the roaring fire in the hearth.
“What did I ever do to you, Heath?”
His brother straightened. “I beg your—”
“Oh, come,” he scoffed, cutting across the false protestation. “If you can muster honesty for a small child, you can certainly spare it for the brother you’ve known your whole life.”
“I’m not here to fight with you,” Heath gritted out. Stalking over to the enormous globe in the corner, he grabbed his sapphire jacket flung across the cylinder so quickly the object whirred in a fast counterclockwise circle.
Let him go. Whatever had come between them… it was too far gone to repair.
“I am your brother, Heath,” he rasped, the glass shaking in his hand. Nay… “You are my older brother, and I adored you. I… loved you.” That brought Heath to a jerky halt. “You are great at everything. Everything comes naturally to you.” When Graham had struggled with every skill, scholarly or athletic. “And yet, you had to tear me down along with him?” He should have defended Graham. Protected him. Graham gave his head a disgusted shake and set his barely touched drink on the edge of the billiards table. “You hated me as much as he did.”
“Do you think it was easy?” Heath whispered. His brother faced him. “Do you think that being the ducal heir spared me from Father’s expectations? You… The expectations placed upon you, you think were great? What do you think they were for me?”
That knocked Graham back on his heels. For the truth was… he’d only ever seen his brother’s life as a charmed one. The cherished heir, valued and appreciated for his strengths and for the rank he’d one day inherit. What if… I too have been wrong all these years? It was an unnerving realization to confront… and yet, all too easy to see the truth there.
“We should have both been there for one another,” Graham said quietly.
“Yes. We should have.” Heath flashed a sad smile. “And I never hated you, Sheldon. I just forgot how to be… around anyone.” It was the closest his brother would ever come to an apology.
And yet… what would an apology do? It wouldn’t make up for the time lost. There was only going forward. “We both shut one another out, Heath,” he murmured. Graham was as much to blame. He knew that now.
His brother’s throat moved. He opened his mouth as if to say more. But then the walls went up once more. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Heath coughed into his hand. “Good night… Graham.”
With that, his brother left.
This time, Graham felt there might be something he’d believed impossible to find with his brother—peace.