“Marcus,” his brother warned sternly, before turning with a charming smile to the policeman. “Thank you, Jack. I appreciate your help.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Thorne,” Fellows said, using the sobriquet under which Sebastian had been known before he resumed his proper title and status in the world. He nodded at Marcus. “Watch that one. Bit of a firebrand, I’d say. Needs something to keep him occupied.”
Angrily, Marcus strode past them and out of the door before he did something he, and Fellows, would regret.
Outside, it was growing dark. Not knowing how long he would be, and not wanting to draw attention to them, Sebastian had sent the carriage away. The two brothers walked briskly, both eager to get home, although for different reasons. Marcus imagined Sebastian was keen to see his wife, but Marcus himself needed to wash and change and set out as soon as possible for Grosvenor Square. Even if Portia refused him entry, he wanted to try and see her.
He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to her. He was working on some ideas, but it was difficult to concentrate when Sebastian kept interrupting his thoughts.
“I hope you know how many strings I had to pull to get you out of there.”
“Thank you, brother.”
“Just why have you taken to attacking famous ladies in public places, Marcus? Not your usual style.”
Marcus shot him a frowning look. “She was about to faint. I went to her aid. I would never hurt her.”
“Yes. That’s what she told me when I spoke to her earlier.”
“You saw her?” Marcus stopped and stared at his brother in amazement.
“What did you think I was doing all this time? I knew if I was to save my little brother, I needed Lady Ellerslie on my side. She was just about to send her lawyer to you, by the way, but I persuaded her that might just make things worse. A hammer to kill an ant, etcetera. And the gutter press would soon latch onto it, asking questions it would be better not to ask.”
Marcus nodded but wasn’t really listening. She’d been going to send her lawyer? His predicament mattered to her, then. The knowledge was balm to his lowered spirits.
“How was she?”
“A little flushed, but that was after I’d kissed her…”
Marcus swung around. “What!”
“…hand.”
Sebastian smiled at the expression on Marcus’s face, and then laughed. He laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. Marcus was silent throughout, with a long-suffering glint in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” his brother gasped at last.
“Very funny,” Marcus said coldly.
Sebastian’s humor left him. “She’s out of your league,” he said. “I’d set my sights on someone less elevated, if I were you.”
It was Marcus’s turn to laugh, though with a bitter note. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her then, Seb?”
“On the contrary, I think you’re every bit as good as her, but they won’t let you have her. You saw what happened when you touched her. She’s the sacred widow, Marcus. They’d rather she died tragically from grief than you have her all flushed and happy with your baby on her lap. They want a symbol to worship, a memory to treasure, not a real flesh and blood woman. She’s out of your reach, yes, but not because of you. Because of her.”
“Thank you for your advice, brother, but I prefer to make my own mistakes.”
“Go for a baronet’s daughter. An innkeeper’s wench. Why look to the only woman you cannot possibly have? That’s just perverse.”
“You did.”
“Blast and damn it, Marcus! You and Lady Ellerslie are in a situation that can only end in grief. You’re younger than me, and I’ve always watched out for you. If you think I am being insulting then I am sorry, but my first instinct is to protect my brother.”
At last Marcus relaxed and smiled. “I’ll bear it in mind for the next time I’m arrested.”
Sebastian swore again, but there was no time to say more. They were home.
Francesca was waiting in the hall. “Oh Marcus!” she cried, throwing her arms about him.