edges of the table and hissed, âWhy didnât you come back when Father died?â
Freddyâs vehemence momentarily knocked Graham breathless. âI didnât return because I was angry. Damned angry. Iâd been accused of an offense I didnât commit. My future, the future Iâd been working so hard to achieve, crumbled before my eyes and no oneânot Father, Mother, or anyone elseâstood by me. So I left. I left England, with its sanctimonious rules and shallow standards, and washed my hands of the whole damned lot.â
âAndâ
hic
âof me.â The venom injected into those words stung no less for the hiccup.
A gulp of air lodged like a stone in Grahamâs lungs. âNo, Freddy, not you. I believed you wanted me gone, yes, but that only garnered my regret, not my anger.â
âNo?â The younger Foster raised eyes burning from drink, and from a pain Graham realized he had put there. âI bore the brunt of it. Me and Letty both. While you were off hunting for trinkets, we lost our father. Youâre our elder brother. You should have become head of the household.â His voice dropped to a caustic whisper. âYou should have been here.â
âFreddy, Iâm sorry. I didnât realizeâ¦â
âDonât bother.â His brother turned his face away and squinted into the gardens. âYou think you can waltz back into our lives after a decade and express your disappointment in the way we turned out? The devilâ
hic
âwith you.â
Freddy shoved backward and gained his feet, overturning his chair with a crash. A footman appeared in the doorway, but Graham gestured him away. A sound of disgust grated in Freddyâs throat as he pivoted with a precarious stagger, caught his balance, and headed for the house.
âWhere are you going?â
âToâ
hic
âpack my things.â
âYouâre in no condition toââ
From inside the house, a shriek blaredâlong, keening, outragedâtaken up by frantic cries of
Help! Help!
âWhat the blazes?â Graham jumped up from his seat.
âThatâs Letty.â Freddy took off running. A clunk resounded when the toe of his shoe caught against the step-up into the Gold Saloon. He went down hard across the threshold, chin mercifully landing on the plush rug inside. He lay there stunned, blinking, then rose tentatively on his elbows and shook his head to clear it. Continued cries of âHelp, thief!â roused him to his feet. Graham followed at a run.
âOh, do stop yelling. I can explain. Really. Please just shush!â Backed to the studyâs bay window, Moira wanted to clap her hand over Miss Fosterâs mouth to stop her from raising the alarm.
On second thought, that mouth was presently opened so wide she doubted one hand or even two could effectively seal it.
Poised at the center of the room, arms flapping and ringlets flailing like a raging Medusa, the girl shouted on and on until Moiraâs ears throbbed. She had been caught red-handed as they say, with desk drawers yawning, cabinets gaping, and a dozen or more books akimbo, pages fluttering in the breeze of the young womanâs tirade.
âThis isnât what you think,â Moira tried again, raising her voice to be heard. Miss Fosterâs face, already an ominous scarlet, flamed hotter still, precipitating another hasty step backward on Moiraâs part. She found herself flush against the windowpanes and tangled in the curtain.
âIâI must have misunderstood Mrs. Higgensworthâs instructionsâ¦â Even to her desperate ears, that explanation rang with idiocy. She might have done better had the clatter of approaching footsteps not sent the panic rising to her throat.
Several men burst in at once, a small but vigorous onslaught of trampling feet and booming voices. Their sheer ferociousness drove Moira tighter against the panes. Their
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