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He's here because he loves you.
Her words rang in Gareth's head with every step he took down the stairs, across the foyer, and to the front door. He paused for a moment before it, taking a deep, bracing breath. And then he unlocked it and pulled it open.
There was Lucien.
His brother stood on the lawn holding Armageddon's reins, his back toward the door. Snelling and the servant were halfway back to the manor house, gone, no doubt, to fetch the key. And then Lucien turned, and for the briefest of moments, Gareth saw the tiny worry-lines that bracketed the duke's eyes, the tension around his mouth — until his brother's face hardened and those black eyes began to glitter with fury.
He's here because he loves you.
"Ah, there you are, my dear boy —"
"Don't patronize me," Gareth snapped. "I know why you're here. I know what you want from me, what you want to say to me. Well, I'm not leaving, Lucien. I'm not leaving, and neither is Juliet, and if you want me to go back to the castle, you're going to have to drag me off by the ear."
Lucien's brows rose. "What is this?"
"You heard me. For the first time in my life I am actually supporting myself, instead of living off your charity and holdings, and it feels good. Damned good. I won't have you take that away from me, Lucien."
"My dear boy. There is no need to be so defensive. I have no intention of taking anything away from you ... but really, there are other ways to make money besides fighting."
"I have to start somewhere, don't I?"
Lucien cast a quick glance at Snelling's retreating back and led Armageddon over to the stairs atop which Gareth so defiantly stood. He stared harshly up at his younger brother and in an angry whisper, snapped, "You are a fool, Gareth. Do you know what sort of man you're dealing with?"
"I have a damned good idea."
"You have a damned good idea," the duke muttered in disgust. "Now, you listen to me and listen well. Snelling is dangerous. He's an opportunist and a cheat who will go to any lengths to make money, and he doesn't give a damn whom he crushes along the way. Do you understand me, Gareth?"
Gareth made a noise of scoffing dismissal. "My, my, for a man who associates with kings, princes, statesmen and other assorted bluebloods, you certainly do know a lot about the lowly Jonathan Snelling," he mocked.
"I only know what Fox told me last night. And he, as a barrister, is certainly in a position to know."
Gareth shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
"Three years ago, Snelling was accused of fixing horse races," the duke continued heatedly. "The only thing that saved him was his acquaintance with an influential member of the Jockey Club whom, it is widely believed, Snelling bribed to keep quiet. The year before that he was caught cheating at cards at his club in London. Sir Maudsley, who lost four thousand pounds to him that night, saw him do it and called him out on the spot. But the duel was never fought. And do you know why it wasn't fought, Gareth? Because Snelling never showed up for his dawn appointment. He quit the country and went to the Continent, hiding out there until Maudsley conveniently died!"
"So he's a coward with a tainted past," Gareth said, shrugging. He folded his arms and, curling his toes around the edge of the top step, leaned negligently against the doorframe. "Who cares? He's paying me good money."
"I'll pay you five times what he's giving you if you'll just come home where you belong."
Gareth gave a bitter laugh. "Why should I do that? Why should I — after all your taunts about how worthless I am, how I'm a good-for-nothing wastrel, how you're sick to death of having to rescue me from one scrape or another — why should I come back with you, only to suffer more of the same abuse?"
"Because," Lucien said gruffly, "I think you are in danger here, that's why."
"You're treating me like a child again, Lucien. I dislike it."
"Yes, I suppose I am ... but God help me, you were a damn sight easier to handle when you were acting like one."
Gareth raised his brows and stared at his brother. Lucien unflinchingly held his gaze then lookred out over the river, his jaw hard. An awkward silence hung between them. Finally, Gareth sighed and sat down on the top step, raking both hands through his hair. "I daresay that's the closest thing to a compliment I've yet to hear from you."
"Yes, well, keep at it the way you're going, and you just might get an apology out of me as well."
"That'll be the bloody day."
Lucien, still holding Armageddon's reins, mounted the steps. He, too, sat down, the tails of his black frock just inches from his younger brother. The two sat together in silence for a long moment.
"I treated you abominably," Lucien finally said.
"Yeah, you were a right bastard."
"So will you come back to Blackheath?"
Gareth shook his head. "I cannot."
"Care to tell me why?"
"I'm determined to make a new life for myself. I know Juliet summoned you, and that she regrets the rashness of doing so; I know you came here thinking you had to rescue me from yet another scrape. But those days are behind me, Lucien. I have a wife and baby to look after now. They have faith in me, believe in me when no one else thinks I'm worth the polish on my boots. I won't let them down."
"I see," the duke murmured, slowly. And then: "Would you like any assistance? I can send a servant to help —"
"No. I want to do this by myself. Have to do this by myself. I don't need my big brother to help me."
"You sound very determined."
"I am."
"Well, then." The duke rose to his feet, unsmiling. "I guess there is no need for me to remain here." He walked down the steps, turned, and stood there for a moment looking up at Gareth. An odd look touched his stark features. Not quite admiration, not quite pensiveness, not quite worry — but maybe a combination of all three. "Just promise me one thing."
Gareth raised a brow in question.
"That if you get in over your head, you'll contact me." His black eyes stared levelly into Gareth's, and Gareth realized that, for the first time, his brother was treating him as an equal. "Sometimes it takes more courage for a man to put aside his pride and admit he needs help than to try to manage on his own."
"I shall remember that."
"You do that," Lucien said. Then, without a backward glance, he swung up on Armageddon, touched his heels to the stallion's sides, and rode off.