Ashes of the Day (10 page)

“Don’t think I won’t go to Conrad about this,” Armand replied, still glaring coldly at her. “I still have some influence with him, you know.”

Julie shrugged, faking indifference. “Good. I’m sure you do. Go right ahead then.” She turned away then and headed once more for the house, Armand following at her heels.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. I don’t see why we can’t work things out between us.”

“There’s nothing to work out.” She could be just as stubborn as he was. Especially since she held the winning hand. She was mostly sure Conrad would back her up. Mostly sure he’d figure out some way to get Armand to back off and leave her alone. Almost positive that, whatever that way was, it would not involve hurting Armand…

At least she hoped that would not be the case. Sometimes with Conrad it was a little hard to tell. Maybe sending Armand into the lion’s den wasn’t the best idea.

“How would we work it out?” Her footsteps slowed to a stop.

“I don’t know. I just thought, if there were a few things you actually wanted… I’m not trying to be unreasonable, you know. It’s your insistence on taking
everything
, on keeping all of it—for no good reason—that I’m opposed to.”

Julie frowned. “So what are you saying? You want to share?”

“For want of a better word. It seems a reasonable solution, doesn’t it?”

Julie nodded. “I guess. I mean, sure, we could…we could maybe do that.” But then another thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute though, what about Marc?” Although it was true her brother had yet to show any interest in any of their mother’s belongings, he had as much right to them as she did. She couldn’t make a deal to bargain away their only inheritance without at least consulting him.

“Marc?” Armand looked startled and vaguely perplexed. “What about him?”

“Well, I mean, he should have a say in this too, shouldn’t he?” Too late it occurred to Julie she may have said too much.

“Should he? Why? Why should he have anything to do with it?”

Yep. Definitely too much. She shook her head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t know what I meant.” There was no way she could explain Marc’s potential interest, or involvement, without revealing their parentage. She started moving purposefully up the pathway once again. “Listen, I have to get inside now, but I’ll think about what you said.”

“You’ll
think
about it?” Armand asked as he again fell into step beside her. “What the hell does that mean? I thought we had an agreement? Didn’t you just say so?”

“I said maybe.” She shot an apologetic look his way. “You’ve given me a lot to think about and now I need to…you know, think about it.”

Armand’s eyes gleamed angrily in the darkness. “Ah.
Tres bien
. You do that, then. And I’m sure you won’t mind if I talk to Conrad in the meantime.”

“Nope. Not at all.” It was obviously useless to try and dissuade him at this point. They’d both have to take their chances and hope that he found Conrad in a relaxed mood. “You do what you have to.”
And I will too
.

Chapter Six

The tension in the salon was so thick Conrad doubted it could ever be cut by a knife. It would take a sword to get the job done or, better yet, a finely honed axe. He sat in his usual armchair, attempting to read and making absolutely no headway. Again and again, his attention was snagged by the room’s other occupants.

Georgia, reclining gracefully in a chaise opposite him, appeared engrossed in a fashion magazine. Her relaxed, indolent pose and focused expression didn’t fool Conrad for an instant. She was hiding something. He could read the surge of her blood, could sense her alertness. She was no more engaged in her reading than he was. Although she didn’t so much as glance in Damian’s direction, Conrad had no doubt she was aware of his every move. As was he.

Damian had been sulking for several days now. Oh, he was subtle about it, too. His bland expression was nearly as flawless as Georgia’s. Seated at his desk on the far side of the room, he appeared contentedly busy with paperwork. Perhaps he was going over the household accounts, or finalizing plans for his upcoming party. Maybe he was making notes pertaining to the remodeling of their new rooms. Conrad had no idea what he was up to. Given the dagger-like glances Damian periodically shot in his direction when he thought no one was looking, he had no inclination to ask.

Asking either of his companions what was bothering them was simply begging for trouble. With any luck, they would both work things out on their own without any input from him.

Maybe it had been a mistake to insist that Damian move in with him at this stage, but Conrad would not apologize for his decision.
You’re his sire,
the beast within him growled.
He should be yielding to your wishes—not the other way around. Why do you not remind him of that fact?

It was useless to argue with that part of himself. It was a fight he would never win. Things like love and gratitude, guilt, regret, were far beyond the monster’s understanding. Conrad dragged his attention back to his book, stubbornly turning pages for several minutes. All the while, the wildness within continued its howling. It was a relief when the salon door opened to admit Armand. Conrad glanced up at him, smiling expectantly.

“Conrad, may I speak to you about something?” Armand asked as he crossed the room.

“Of course, my dear.” Conrad waved him toward a nearby chair, happy to put his book aside. “Come in. Sit down. What is it you would like to discuss?”

“It has to do with Julie. She still has the suitcase containing Desert Rose’s belongings. I’ve asked her for them back, even offered to share the contents with her, but she refuses. She won’t even explain why she feels so strongly about this.”

Conrad sighed inwardly. He really should have seen this coming. “And you feel strongly about it as well. I understand. However, it seemed to me it was fitting that they should go to her.” How fitting, Armand would never know. Was it too much to hope he might take Conrad’s word for that? Apparently so.

An uncharacteristic frown darkened Armand’s features. “The dead deserve respect. They deserve to be left in peace and not have their belongings pawed over and…and tampered with.”

“I’m sure Julie will take good care of her things.” Conrad barely repressed the urge to glare in Georgia’s direction when he felt her attention shift. Must she follow their conversation with such rapt attention? She’d tried to warn Conrad years ago about Armand’s infatuation with Desert Rose. He had no doubt she was recalling that same conversation even now.

Conrad forced himself to continue to speak calmly. After all, none of this was Armand’s fault. “Think about it,
mon cher
. Isn’t it much better that these things be taken out once in a while and appreciated, rather than have them stay forever locked away in the attic?”

“Perhaps.” Armand shrugged. “That’s what Julie said as well. And if they had been given to someone who was in a position to appreciate them, I might agree with you.”

Someone like himself—Conrad was certain that’s what Armand meant. He felt another flare of anger when a quick glance in Georgia’s direction confirmed his suspicion. Her mouth was curved in a small, knowing smile. The words, “I told you so,” were practically visible, trembling on her lips. Perhaps, after all, Damian had been right. Perhaps her presence here was more disruptive than it was worth.

“Will you not tell Julie you’ve changed your mind?” Armand pressed. “And instruct her to give the suitcase and its contents to me?”

Conrad shook his head. He had not changed his mind—nor was he ever likely to. Despite what Armand believed, Julie’s claim was the greater. Her need was the greater. And Conrad would not disappoint her.
My House, my rules
. The words were in his mind, waiting to be spoken. He bit them back, mindful of Damian’s scrutiny, certain they were exactly the words he was expecting to hear. Why not surprise him? Why not use this opportunity to show him that he’d taken at least some of his criticism to heart? “Let me think about your request for a little while,” he temporized, smiling gently at Armand. “Perhaps we can discuss the matter again later? I’m sure Julie can be trusted to keep everything safe in the meantime. Don’t you agree?”

“
Oui
,” Armand agreed, albeit reluctantly. “
Tres bien
.”

Conrad smiled. “
Bon
. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

Armand shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he replied as he got to his feet. “I think I’ll go out for a little while. I’ll look forward to discussing this again with you later.”

Conrad nodded and lied, “As will I.” He’d make sure their next discussion took place in private—where he could make his position clearer and hopefully put an end to the subject.

No one said a word as Armand made his way back across the room. Conrad took up his book once again. He was well aware that both Georgia and Damian were continuing to stare at him with raised eyebrows, but he chose to ignore it.

It was Damian who eventually broke the silence. “Lady Lancaster,” he began in his smoothest, most unctuous tones, “if I might be allowed to recall your attention to a certain conversation we had, not so long ago. Did I not warn you that you and I were in danger of finding ourselves shunted aside in our sire’s affections and neglected in favor of the younger generations?”

At that, both Conrad and Georgia turned to stare at him. What now, Conrad wondered.

“I believe you did, my lord,” Georgia replied, recovering from her surprise enough to incline her head with grave courtesy. “And I see now you were quite correct. It appears we are both quite fallen in his regard. I thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. I do believe I’m in your debt.”

“Not at all,” Damian said, going so far as to rise from his seat to execute a small bow. “Your humble servant as always, Madam.”

Conrad bit back a growl. Affecting disinterest, he sighed. “I’m pleased I could afford you both the opportunity to finally reach accord with one another on some subject.” Not that he believed this state of
détente
was at all serious. “But, in future, perhaps you might refrain from speaking of me as if I were not present?”

Damian shrugged. “Of course. And I’ve no doubt it does please you, Conrad. For, after all, when have you ever done anything that did not?”

Enough was enough. Conrad shot Damian a withering glare. “Have you nothing else you could be doing? Preferably elsewhere?”

“
Sí
.” Damian shut off his computer with a flourish. “As it happens, I do. Today is moving day, after all. I must go upstairs now and see what can be done to minimize the inevitable upheaval.”

“Good.” Conrad nodded his approval. “I’m sure the end results will be well worth the temporary chaos.”

“Perhaps,” Damian responded darkly. “We shall see.”

“I do believe our dear viscount is a trifle upset,” Georgia said, after Damian was gone. “What have you done to annoy him this time? Or perhaps he objects to his new room assignment? You didn’t let him think it was my idea, did you?”

Conrad put his book aside once more and regarded her crossly. “Georgia, much as I enjoy conversing with you, it was not the primary reason I requested your presence here at this time. I need your assistance in helping to resolve the
Invitus
threat. I believe I may have mentioned this small matter a time or two?”

Georgia sighed. “Yes, love, of course. I assure you I’m quite resigned to the fact.”

“Then, perhaps, if it’s not too inconvenient, you might go out and actually investigate the situation?”

Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “What—do you mean right now?”

“Unless you feel that’s too much for me to ask?” He stared pointedly at her magazine until she cast it aside.

“Of course not,” Georgia gritted out through clenched teeth. Her blue eyes sparked with annoyance as she rose from the chaise, matching his sarcastic politeness with a deep curtsey and a dulcet murmur. “My sire commands. I can but obey.”

“Splendid,” Conrad muttered, watching as she, too, departed. Just splendid. His evening had only just begun and already he’d somehow succeeded in alienating nearly everyone with whom he’d come into contact. He couldn’t wait to see what joy the rest of the night might bring.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. In fact, he’d barely resumed reading when Julie joined him in the salon.

“I need a favor, Grandfather,” she said as she crossed the room and seated herself in the same chair Armand had so recently occupied. “Will you do something for me?”

“If it’s within my power to do so.” Conrad regarded her cautiously. Recent experience had made him a little wary. He just hoped she wouldn’t ask for anything he couldn’t possibly agree to—he’d had far too much of that lately. “What is it you need?”

Julie took a deep breath. She seemed to square her shoulders before she answered. “I want you to fire Brennan.”

It was very likely the last thing Conrad had been expecting. “Why? What’s he done?”

“He hasn’t done anything,” Julie assured him quickly. “I just think we both need a break, that’s all. But if he stays here, we’ll just keep seeing each other. He has to go.”

Conrad nodded. “Very well. Consider it done. I’ll tell Damian to arrange it immediately.”

“There’s a little more.”