By that time she had countless suitors at her feet, clamoring for scraps of her attention. Men flocked to her, and Brandon was determined not to become a lovelorn lackey who vied to do her bidding. Yet her effervescent personality had won him over.
It was the only time he’d ever been tempted to consider matrimony. Upon severing ties with Kate, he couldn’t help feeling he’d lost something vital. He’d acted for her own good, though. Succumbing to a reckless night of passion would have been disastrous for them both.
He regretted having to leave her, regretted more hurting her. Indeed, the following years had been filled with regrets. He’d seen death, caused it. Killed people who might have been friends and neighbors under other circumstances.
Memories, heavy and relentless, descended upon him. When he strove to push them away, sweat broke out on his brow.
With another curse, Brandon restored the legal documents to the satchel, then strode over to the window and opened it, letting in the sounds and odors of the bustling London street below. He was supremely glad those grim years were over. He might have returned to England sooner, but he’d had multiple obligations to fulfill. First to his father and the war, then his widowed mother, his younger brother, and his shipping business. Now he had duties to his new title.
Yet it was Kate herself who was the strongest draw. She was like a beacon of warm light—
A knock on his hotel room door thankfully interrupted his brooding thoughts. When he opened it, his cousin Trey stood there. They were of similar build and appearance, except that his cousin had lighter brown hair.
As soon as his ship arrived at the London docks, Brandon had sent Trey a message, but he wasn’t certain what his reception would be after all these years, since they had fought on opposite sides.
He needn’t have worried. Trey flashed a broad grin, stepped forward, and seized him in a powerful bear hug.
“It is about time you showed your sorry hide, Brand,” Trey said, clapping him on the back heartily before releasing him. “You waited far too long to return.”
“I finally had good reason.”
“Ah, yes…Lord Valmere,” Trey replied, sketching a mock bow. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
Brandon grimaced. “You are better equipped to assume an English title.”
“But you always knew that your fate was tied to England.”
Trey was by far his favorite relative. They’d once been as close as brothers, less from blood ties than from being comrades in arms. As members of a covert branch of the British Foreign Office, the Guardians of the Sword, they had carried out missions and faced danger together numerous times.
“Are you ready?” Trey asked. “Your uncle’s solicitor is expecting you, so we ought to be on our way.”
“Yes.” Brandon fetched the satchel and accompanied Trey from the room. “My thanks for conveying me. I will need to hire my own carriage, but I welcome your advice on inheritance matters.”
“I am at your service. Very glad to have you back, old man.”
“What the devil have you been about?” Brandon responded. “What of the Guardians?”
As they made their way downstairs to the street where his curricle awaited, Trey discussed their mutual friends and their league’s leader, Sir Gawain Olwen, who had recently retired. The secret society, headquartered on an island paradise near Spain, had been formed in medieval times and charged with protecting the weak and vulnerable across Europe and Britain. But defeating the French at Waterloo nearly two years ago had ushered in a new era of peace.
“With Boney vanquished, there is less need for foiling tyrants and battling warmongers, but we still have a good deal of work to do,” Trey said. “We have all missed you.”
“I missed you all greatly also. One of my chief regrets was having to leave the Guardians.”
“I can imagine.”
He’d been torn between two countries, with loyalties to both. The war had forced him to choose sides and put his American blood kin above his English ancestry and friendships. And given his family’s various shipping enterprises, he was in the thick of things during the war.
“Most of us are happily wed now,” Trey added as they climbed into his curricle. “Some with families.” Taking the reins, he guided his pair of grays into the busy street. “Hawk was the most recent.”
“So I heard.” The Earl of Hawkhurst had married Kate’s cousin, Lady Skye Wilde.
“Which leaves you, Brand. It staggered me when you wrote that you would be seeking a bride. You never were one for marriage.”
Brandon’s mouth curved. “No.” He’d never been eager to relinquish his freedom or be tied down to one woman. But if he had to wed, Kate was his only choice. Yet he needed the time and opportunity to verify his instinct that they would suit in married life.
“You surprised Lady Isabella as well,” Trey remarked. “But she thinks you could be happy with the right woman, just as I am. My wife, Antonia, is eager to meet you this evening, by the way.”
“And I her.”