That was enough to have Phin chuckling in spite of his misgivings. “You only prostitute yourself for your own sake.”
“It’s not prostitution between friends,” Lionel said with a cocky tilt of his head, glancing down his nose at Phin.
Phin shook his head, slapping Lionel’s arm as he returned to the sofa and sat heavily. “I doubt Gleason will give up his fight on Lady Hamilton’s behalf,” he said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, then adjusting them back into place. “Harridans like Lady Hamilton don’t give up that easily.”
“No, they don’t,” Lionel agreed, moving to sit on the sofa by Phin’s side. His brow furrowed into the thoughtful look he wore whenever he was hatching some new plot. He leaned against the back of the sofa, crossed both his arms and his legs, and rubbed his chin, not unlike the way Gleason had. “I think I have an idea that might solve that particular problem, though,” he said at length.
“Thank God someone has an idea that could solve some of my problems,” Phin said, dripping with dry humor. “Now, if only I could figure out a way to resolve the fact that I’m not certain whether I want to strangle Lenore or marry her and keep her in bed for weeks on end.”
“Knowing you, it’s the latter,” Lionel said with a teasing grin. “The only difference between me and you, dear brother, is that I was lavished with gifts for my proclivities. You gave it away for free.”
“That’s not how it was and you know it,” Phin argued.
“So you were compensated for your services.” Lionel looked positively delighted by the possibility.
“That’s not what I meant.” Phin frowned.
“Can you even remember how many beds you’ve wiled away an evening in?” Lionel asked, one eyebrow arched.
“Can you?” Phin shot back.
“Touché.” A faint flush painted Lionel’s cheeks.
Phin was certain he was blushing as well, but more because of the simple pleasure of ripping into his brother and being mercilessly teased in return than from any real embarrassment over his sexual past. It was an immense comfort to know that he had a brother who loved him and would stick by him at all costs. Though he was willing to admit that most brothers probably teased each other about hunting, cards, and business, not their checkered sexual histories.
“I just wish she’d told me,” he sighed after a long silence, anger grinding back into him again. “I despise deception of all kinds.”
“Would you have behaved differently to her if you’d known she was married?” Lionel asked.
“Yes,” Phin said with far more vehemence than he felt.
Lionel fixed him with a look that said he didn’t believe it. “You wouldn’t have bedded her, then?”
Phin winced. In all honestly, he probably would have, if she’d been willing. Which she had been. She’d known she was married, even if he didn’t. Though he was willing to concede, after her explanation, that it wasn’t a true sort of marriage. Still, she hadn’t been honest. And even if she had married Swan to save her life, deception only made matters more complicated.
“Life is pain,” Lionel said, almost out of the blue. He, too, had taken on an introspective mien as he stared into the fireplace. His brow was furrowed as if he were reliving his own painful memories. “People make mistakes. All people. Terrible mistakes. You have no idea.”
“You?” Phin attempted to regain the easy feeling between them, even though he felt the dark turn they’d both taken acutely. “Mistakes?”
Lionel turned his head and stared into Phin’s eyes with chilling intensity. “You have no idea,” he said.
Phin could only wonder what his brother had been through, or was going through. Whatever it was, he trusted that Lionel would tell him in good time.
But if he could trust Lionel to reveal what was eating at him on his own terms and in his own time, why couldn’t he trust that Lenore had revealed her secrets within the timeframe that was right for her?
It was too sharp a thought to keep in his head for long. He thumped Lionel’s leg and stood.
“I should be going,” he said, heading to the stand where he’d hung his hat and coat.
Lionel stood and walked to the door with him. “Go easy on your lady love,” he said, helping Phin into his coat. “She’s in danger, I’m sure of it. Swan is evil. Lenore needs your help far more than she needs your censure. Forgive her for her sins and protect her from the coming storm.”
“And here I’m the one writing dramatic stories,” Phin said, turning to his brother with a wry grin.
“Haven’t I said all along that you should let me pen a story or two for Nocturne?” Lionel said.
Phin thumped his shoulder. “I might just take you up on that offer,” he said. “If Lady Hamilton doesn’t catch me and ruin me first.”
Chapter 16
Finally, Lenore slept. As soon as her head hit the pillow of her familiar, cozy bed under Reese’s roof, days’ worth of not sleeping caught up to her. In spite of the fear and anxiety that continued to hover over her, in spite of the fact that nothing at all was resolved, she slept like the dead, waking well into the morning the next day.
Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. Reese’s stalwart upstairs maid, Florence, who had been serving as her lady’s maid since she took up residence at Howsden House, brought her breakfast and didn’t seem even a little judgmental about the situation. Then again, Reese had hand-selected every member of his staff for their open minds and their closed lips.
Lenore couldn’t stay in bed forever, though. She finally got up around noon, washed and dressed, but instead of heading
