The Music Box (14 page)

Gaby’s glance followed Thane’s, and she was relieved to see that sometime over the past few minutes the grim lines about Bryce’s mouth had softened and a hint of compassion had warmed the chill from his eyes.

“Yes,” he returned in a measured tone, “I suppose we do.”

Without further hesitation, Thane walked forward, withdrawing his hand from his pocket, and extending it to his brother. “Bryce, I’m not sure what to say. So I’ll just welcome you and apologize that the welcome is coming thirty-one years too late.”

Bryce clasped Thane’s hand, looking astonished and, for the first time since Gaby had met him, totally off-balance. “I’m less certain than you what to say,” he admitted. “Other than to accept your gracious welcome. Hermione was right about you. I’m glad I gave in to her request and came to Whitshire tonight.”

Thane’s lips twitched. “You’ll find Hermione has a way of getting what she wants.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

The two men shared their first comfortable chuckle since entering the sitting room.

“Before we go any further, I want something understood.” Bryce abruptly withdrew his hand and held his arms rigid at his sides. “I agreed to come here to tell you the truth, and as I said, I’m glad I did, but that doesn’t mean I want anything in my life to change. I want no announcements, no acknowledgments, no attempts by you to make amends for your father’s actions. As I told Hermione, what’s done is done, and the results are a fait accompli. I like my life, and I don’t intend to alter it. I want this point clarified for both our sakes,” he added in a milder tone, “so that both our lives can continue without upheaval. You’re not responsible for what Whitshire did to me any more than you’re responsible for his being the kind of man he was. In many ways the conversation that just took place here was more difficult for you than it was for me. I’ve had over twenty years to adjust to the truth. You’re first being burdened with it. The point is, I want nothing from you—not your assets or your feelings of guilt and obligation. I simply want things to go on as they are.”

“I understand,” Thane replied, pursing his lips, “and I respect your decision as well as your attempt to absolve me of any responsibility or obligation. Now let me tell you where I stand.” He drew a sharp breath, an earnest expression tightening his features. “With regard to my father—
our
father—you’re right. I cannot answer for his contemptible behavior, nor, even if I tried, could I begin to make up for his renunciation of you and whatever hardships that caused. I won’t insult you by saying otherwise. Nor will I insult you with an offer of monetary compensation, which I presume is what you were referring to when you said you wanted nothing of my assets. Let it be known, however, that anything you ever need or want is yours—and I’m
not
making that offer out of guilt.”

Thane’s gaze was unwavering, his stance as uncompromising as Bryce’s. “We don’t know each other, Bryce. I want to change that. The first thing you’ll discover about me is that I’m nothing like our father. I don’t view wealth and titles as life’s ultimate achievements. I understand honor, decency, and integrity as well as you do. And based on that fact … no, I cannot promise you I’ll feel no sense of obligation or commitment toward you. If I could make that promise, I’d be no better than Father, and you’d have no respect for me as a human being. You’re my brother, a reality I cannot simply dismiss as if it were inconsequential. What’s more, I’m hoping you’ll not only understand that fact but also agree with it, and that, despite your adamant stipulations, you’re as eager as I to become acquainted—without any announcement being made,” he added hastily, holding up his palm to ward off Bryce’s objections. “In public we’ll present ourselves as business associates and friends, neither of which, I’m beginning to suspect, will be a fabrication. As for our relationship as brothers—
that
we will acknowledge only in private and only among those who are privy to the facts. Would that be acceptable?”

A flicker of something—wary relief, perhaps—registered on Bryce’s face. “It would.”

“Good.” Thane looked equally relieved. “Then suppose you tell me who else knows our secret.”

“Only those in this room.”

“And Chaunce.” Clearly Thane considered that to be a certainty.

“Ah, yes. And Chaunce.” A corner of Bryce’s mouth lifted. “I think I’m going to enjoy the opportunity to further our acquaintance, Your Gr … Thane.”

“As am I.”

“Thank God,” Hermione murmured. She stirred on the sofa, excitement bringing a tinge of color to her ashen complexion. “I believe a toast is in order. Thane, retrieve your brandy and sherry immediately. We still have a few minutes before we’re to meet Averley in the music room. Let’s secure your new relationship with Bryce with a proper flourish.”

“Right away.” With a mock salute at his aunt, Thane crossed over to the sideboard and poured sherry for Hermione and Gabrielle, and brandy for himself and Bryce. “Shall I make the toast?” he asked Hermione as he finished distributing the drinks.

“No, I claim that honor.” She looked thoroughly smug and elated. “To my two nephews,” she pronounced, raising her glass high. “May you forge the kind of brotherhood you both deserve, and may all I wish for you come to pass.”

“Uh-oh,” Gaby heard Bryce mutter into his brandy. “All you wish for us? Lord only knows what
that
means.”

“I heard that, Bryce,” Hermione admonished.

“Did you?” His eyes were twinkling as he swirled the contents of his snifter about. “Then I don’t suppose you’d care to divulge whatever it is your clever mind is dreaming up this time?”

“Why, I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“You never do.”

Listening to their good-natured banter, seeing Bryce’s earlier tension rapidly ebb, Gaby felt a warming combination of comfort and delight. She knew how terribly difficult this discussion had been for him—both anticipating it and enduring it—and while she’d been certain of Thane’s ultimate acceptance of his brother, she was still very glad the entire ordeal was over.

Now if they could only skip over the rest of the evening and head straight home to Nevon Manor, perhaps her own disquiet could ease.

Even as that fleeting thought wafted through her, the anxiety she’d experienced earlier—temporarily held at bay by her concern for Bryce—resurged. Rational or not, being back at Whitshire was proving to be far more distressing than she’d envisioned. In truth, all she wanted to do was bolt.

Several timeless minutes passed—minutes that seemed more like an eternity.

Glancing at the mantel clock, Gaby was dismayed to see that it was only half after nine. She’d been certain it was nearing eleven by now. Still, even half after nine was late for Aunt Hermione, given her weakened state—wasn’t it?

She opened her mouth to say just that—and was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Thane called.

“Pardon me, Your Grace.” Couling hovered in the doorway, his eyes widening in astonishment as he surveyed the occupants of the room, who were engaged in what was obviously a small celebration, hardly what he’d expected given the recency of the late duke’s passing. “Averley asked me to inquire if you were ready for him yet.” The butler awaited Thane’s reply, his curious gaze wandering from the new duke to Bryce to Hermione and finally settling on Gaby, where it lingered.

Gaby could just imagine what Couling was thinking. He was probably wondering how she, the orphaned child of Whitshire’s late head groom, came to be part of this seemingly momentous discussion.

She was wondering the same thing herself, not because she doubted her place by Aunt Hermione’s side nor because she regretted having been able to offer Bryce her support, but because now that she was no longer needed, her own dilemma was thrusting its way into the forefront, making it increasingly evident that the peace she sought was not forthcoming—at least not tonight.

“Tell Averley we’re on our way,” Thane was instructing Couling. “We’re about finished here. We’ll meet him, as planned, in the music hall.”

“Very good, sir.” With a final quizzical look, the butler turned and retraced his steps.

Gaby seized her chance posthaste.

“Aunt Hermione,” she blurted, placing her glass on the side table. “Perhaps we should postpone whatever legal matters need evaluating for another time. It’s getting late and—”

“Nonsense.” Hermione shattered Gaby’s plan to bits without ever realizing she was doing it. Shaking her head, she rose slowly from the settee, intent on her own course of action. “I want Bryce to spend the better part of an hour with Averley—
and
a bit of private time with Thane. Don’t worry, darling, we’ll still be home long before midnight.”

“But your medicine …”

“Chaunce will leave it at my bedside. I’ll take it the instant I return.” Hermione smoothed her snowy hair into place, regarding first Thane, then Bryce with an expression of profound joy. “Truly, Gaby, I’m feeling more myself tonight than I have in ages.”

“Of course you are.” Guilt knotted Gaby’s stomach. Here she was, encouraging her jubilant aunt to leave Whitshire under false pretenses, when it was really she herself who wanted to leave. Shame mingled with guilt, reminding her what a pivotal occasion this was for her aunt. Hermione had waited all these years for Bryce and Thane to meet, and now that they had, now that they even seemed to
like
each other, Hermione was positively elated. She deserved to be here to bask in the glory of her family being united at last. Gaby would simply have to overcome her own unease—this instant. Even if it meant remaining at Whitshire for hours. She owed that much, and more, to her aunt.

“Darling, are you all right?” Hermione was asking, concern lining her forehead as she studied Gaby’s face. “You’re as white as a sheet. Are you not feeling well? Then perhaps we
should
go.”

“No.” With a bright smile, Gaby gathered up her skirts and made to rise. “I’m feeling fine, truly.”

“Wait.” Bryce halted Gaby’s motion with a wave of his arm. Purposefully, he crossed over to the settee, goblet in hand. “Sip at this,” he instructed quietly, pressing the brandy snifter to her lips. “It will restore your color—and your reserves.”

Gaby’s lashes lifted, and she met Bryce’s gaze. “Thank you,” she murmured, referring to far more than just the brandy.

“You’re welcome.” He waited until she’d complied, watching as the spirits did their job. “Better?”

“Yes.” Gaby felt the chill that had pervaded her subside a bit, more from Bryce’s solid presence than from his brandy, she suspected.

“Let’s not keep Averley waiting,” Bryce suggested, when it was clear Gaby felt more herself. Casually he set down his goblet and guided Gaby to her feet, seizing her elbow in a firm, steadying grip that belied his seeming nonchalance. “I’ll make sure you reach the music room without incident.”

“Excellent.” On the heels of Bryce’s declaration, Hermione made her way to Thane’s side and slipped her arm through his. “Then my other handsome nephew shall be my escort.”

“My pleasure,” Thane agreed with a smile.

“The music room is two doors down on your right,” Hermione called over her shoulder, already urging Thane toward the hallway.

“Are you able to do this?” Bryce asked Gaby the moment his aunt and brother were out of hearing range.

Her indrawn breath was shaky. “I
must
do this. It means so much to Aunt Hermione.” She balled her hands into tight fists of frustration. “I don’t understand it, Bryce. I was doing much better while you and Thane were talking. Then suddenly, when I contemplated the rest of the evening, that dreadful apprehensive feeling returned. Why? It’s not as if I’ve encountered anything since we arrived that would incite my uneasiness. Even the rooms we’ve been in tonight hold no memories for me; I’ve never so much as seen them before. When I lived at Whitshire, the only sections of the manor I was permitted to enter were the kitchen and the servants’ hall. So why am I reacting like this? I expected this visit to be trying, but I also assumed it would ease, not worsen, as the night wore on. I’m baffled, but more important, I’m determined not to let these misgivings interfere with Aunt Hermione’s joy.”

Reflexively, Bryce brushed a strand of hair off Gaby’s face. “Maybe your distress will ease in the music room. You yourself claimed you lose yourself while playing the piano.”

“So I did.” Gaby’s train of thought shifted abruptly as she recalled Bryce’s earlier insight and sensitivity. “You remembered our conversation about Beethoven—that’s why you suggested meeting Averley in the music room.” She inclined her head, studying Bryce with open wonder. “Aunt Hermione is right. You
are
an extraordinary man. I don’t know what astounds me more, your ability to see inside people or your ability to soothe them.”

Amusement curved Bryce’s lips. “I know quite a few people who would take exception to
that
description of me. Soothing? My colleagues would laugh themselves silly. As for my being able to read your mind, it hardly takes a visionary to do so. You’re not exactly adept at disguising your feelings. Trepidation was written all over your face.”

“Thane didn’t detect it,” Gaby pointed out. “Do you remember what I told you—about Thane being the first notes of a sonata? Well, you’re the entire concert—richly textured and deep. Music, as we discussed, must be felt. Emotions, even blatant ones, must be perceived. Perhaps mine were written all over my face, but it took you to read them.”

A heartbeat of silence.

“While we’re on the subject of emotions,” Gaby continued, deliberately steering the conversation in a direction Bryce would find less disturbing. “I’m so happy things went well for you and Thane.”

“So am I. I think.” Absently, Bryce rubbed his chin. “I didn’t expect tonight to result in an alliance with Whitshire’s son. I’m having a bit of trouble with all this, trying to determine who I am, at least with regard to Thane. We’re total strangers, yet we’re brothers. It’s damned disconcerting.”

“The lack of a defined rapport between you and Thane will amend itself. As for who you are, you know the answer to that. The situation may be unsettling, but the man beneath is unchanged. You’re Bryce Lyndley. You have a challenging new maze to navigate, but you’ll find your way, both here and at Nevon Manor. And who knows? You just might grow a bit in the process.” Gaby’s gravity vanished, twin dimples appearing in her cheeks. “Just as Alice did in Wonderland—and I don’t only mean in the physical sense, when she gobbled up the cake that said ‘eat me.’ ”