contact for two decades. Perhaps it was her way of making him face his responsibilities. She was always a great one for duty and honor. The hardest thing, in fact, about taking the blame for Lady Charlotte Parker's pregnancy all those years ago, was knowing it would disappoint his grandmother. There were many things Elinor Charming was willing to overlook and Brandon had always managed to cajole her out of bad moods, but getting another man's wife pregnant was beyond the pale.
Now he was older—a great deal older—Brandon wished he'd done things differently. He'd been too rash. Unfortunately, he always had a tendency to want to help people and frequently at his own cost. When Charlotte came to him, desperate and in floods of tears, what else could he do but try to stand by her. He gave her money, her husband found out, and thus suspicions quickly mounted against him. He'd known Charlotte since they were children. It felt like the right thing to do back then, to save the woman by taking responsibility for her child. Of course, he'd thought only of the backlash against himself and was nobly prepared to bear it.
For the trouble and grief he'd caused his family he was now deeply sorry. At eighteen he'd never stopped to consider the effect upon them. But at eighteen, it must be said, he seldom had thoughts that reached beyond the end of a night. He had nothing to worry about, nothing to exercise his mind. Back then, Brandon's life was already sketched out for him like an architect's blueprint. It was expected that he would run the Charming Chocolate empire, so he didn't even have to think about a profession. He already had a fortune, amassed by previous generations of Charmings. What was there for him to think about beyond his immediate pleasures and finding ways to spend coin?
After the scandal, he thought going into exile would be the best thing to do. For everyone. Charlotte didn't want him around once he'd paid for her divorce, his father wasn't speaking to him, his grandmother pretended to take to her bed in suitably dramatic fashion, and he'd been thrown out of every club in London thanks to Lord Parker's influence. So getting as far away as possible seemed like a very good idea.
Today he was back again, facing old demons. His family and other beasts.
"Do you ever hear from your mama?" he asked suddenly.
"On my birthday, if she remembers, she sends me a letter and a gift." Nick laughed. "What do I care? She's a stranger to me."
Brandon knew what it meant to grow up without a mother. It rather spoiled the equilibrium of life, to not have that close bond and feminine influence at an early age. Of course, Brandon had a step-mother for a few years before he left England, but she had no interest in him and made that plain. Theirs had been a relationship of mutual dislike and distrust. As for his grandmother Elinor, he always thought of her as more Sergeant Major than woman. Tenderness, in her oft stated opinion, was only good in a steak.
It was lucky he came back to help the boy. Someone had to—someone whose interest was in the boy's happiness, not the Charming fortune or any social climbing ideas.
Suddenly Nick exclaimed, "Have you had a woman in here? I can smell violets."
Brandon strode back to the brandy decanter. "I was...occupied earlier."
"I thought so. No wonder you were still in bed at this hour."
Smirking, he poured them both another brandy. Mrs. Kent was waiting behind that dressing screen right now. Unable to dress without help, she was stranded until he lent a hand. Well, she'd just have to wait a bit longer. He wasn't inclined to let her go from his suite just yet. The woman, he though with a warm leap of brandy-fired excitement in his gut, wasn't leaving until he'd tried out that freshly shaved pussy. She was quite delectable. It amused him to no end that his father had hired the woman to teach Nick etiquette and find him a bride. It would have made more sense if she was hired to teach Nick
Now he was older—a great deal older—Brandon wished he'd done things differently. He'd been too rash. Unfortunately, he always had a tendency to want to help people and frequently at his own cost. When Charlotte came to him, desperate and in floods of tears, what else could he do but try to stand by her. He gave her money, her husband found out, and thus suspicions quickly mounted against him. He'd known Charlotte since they were children. It felt like the right thing to do back then, to save the woman by taking responsibility for her child. Of course, he'd thought only of the backlash against himself and was nobly prepared to bear it.
For the trouble and grief he'd caused his family he was now deeply sorry. At eighteen he'd never stopped to consider the effect upon them. But at eighteen, it must be said, he seldom had thoughts that reached beyond the end of a night. He had nothing to worry about, nothing to exercise his mind. Back then, Brandon's life was already sketched out for him like an architect's blueprint. It was expected that he would run the Charming Chocolate empire, so he didn't even have to think about a profession. He already had a fortune, amassed by previous generations of Charmings. What was there for him to think about beyond his immediate pleasures and finding ways to spend coin?
After the scandal, he thought going into exile would be the best thing to do. For everyone. Charlotte didn't want him around once he'd paid for her divorce, his father wasn't speaking to him, his grandmother pretended to take to her bed in suitably dramatic fashion, and he'd been thrown out of every club in London thanks to Lord Parker's influence. So getting as far away as possible seemed like a very good idea.
Today he was back again, facing old demons. His family and other beasts.
"Do you ever hear from your mama?" he asked suddenly.
"On my birthday, if she remembers, she sends me a letter and a gift." Nick laughed. "What do I care? She's a stranger to me."
Brandon knew what it meant to grow up without a mother. It rather spoiled the equilibrium of life, to not have that close bond and feminine influence at an early age. Of course, Brandon had a step-mother for a few years before he left England, but she had no interest in him and made that plain. Theirs had been a relationship of mutual dislike and distrust. As for his grandmother Elinor, he always thought of her as more Sergeant Major than woman. Tenderness, in her oft stated opinion, was only good in a steak.
It was lucky he came back to help the boy. Someone had to—someone whose interest was in the boy's happiness, not the Charming fortune or any social climbing ideas.
Suddenly Nick exclaimed, "Have you had a woman in here? I can smell violets."
Brandon strode back to the brandy decanter. "I was...occupied earlier."
"I thought so. No wonder you were still in bed at this hour."
Smirking, he poured them both another brandy. Mrs. Kent was waiting behind that dressing screen right now. Unable to dress without help, she was stranded until he lent a hand. Well, she'd just have to wait a bit longer. He wasn't inclined to let her go from his suite just yet. The woman, he though with a warm leap of brandy-fired excitement in his gut, wasn't leaving until he'd tried out that freshly shaved pussy. She was quite delectable. It amused him to no end that his father had hired the woman to teach Nick etiquette and find him a bride. It would have made more sense if she was hired to teach Nick
Similar Books
