A pair of gold eyes twinkled in the otherwise dark space. “Meowwww-meowww-meowww,” the black cat wailed, remaining firmly planted on a narrow beam.
The extent of his experience with those feline creatures of course was aged information that came from his time with Lord Andover, but Gertrude had taken the fickle animals in enough over the years for him to know just how self-reliant they were. “A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays.”
Gertrude quietly snorted. “What rubbish. You’ve escaped death and danger. No one dares believe you are in possession of nine lives. Why should Master Brave?”
For all the hell of that morn, he found himself grinning. “A cat who’s gone and gotten himself caught on a beam and can’t get down without assistance is richly misnamed.”
“Oh, hush,” she chided, jabbing a sharp elbow into his side. He winced. “Don’t listen to him. You are far braver than all the horses and dogs in the whole of the stables,” she crooned to the still mournfully moaning creature overhead.
As if there were some magic to her tone, Master Brave stopped.
Gertrude held her hands up.
The black cat darted back and forth on the beam.
Sighing, Gertrude let her arms fall.
They remained there, brother and sister silently following Master Brave, and Broderick searching for the words to put his request to Gertrude.
The very request he’d put to her was the same he’d put to each one of his sisters before . . . only this time, the reasons were different. This time, it was about something more: seeing everyone—his siblings, his staff, his business—secure.
Bitterness stung his insides. For it was just further proof of how his life had spiraled out of control, and he couldn’t get a handle on it. He inhaled slowly. “Gertrude—”
“If I’m to have a Season, I’ll have certain terms met,” she cut him off, bringing him up short.
“How did you . . . ?”
“Know?” She arched an eyebrow. “First Cleo. Then Ophelia. It didn’t take much to gather that I’d be the next in line you’d try and find a noble husband for.” She moved her determined stare from that damned cat over to Broderick. “If I’m to do this for the club, I want concessions from you.”
Of course she’d assume it was about his business. Why should she believe anything different? None of his siblings or staff would. He’d lost the right to that faith. And he was not so very selfish that he wanted her or any of their siblings to know the truth. Either way, it was easier for all that they carried that low opinion. “Very well.” Unable to meet his sister’s eyes, he studied Master Brave’s frantic pacing. “What are your terms?”
“My animals come with me.”
She expected he’d send her off with one of their sisters. He’d made the mistake of sending Ophelia off to Cleo, and though Ophelia was happy, she’d nearly found herself hanged because of her love for Connor O’Roarke. “I’m accompanying you.” And he’d be there to look after her, as long as he was able. As long as that bastard allows you . . .
Gertrude’s eyes formed circles. “You?”
“And I’ll . . .” He loosened his cravat further. “Allow the cats.”
“All of them, Broderick. Or I’m not coming.”
Oh, bloody hell. He tugged free that strip of white silk and slapped it against his leg. They’d have an entire menagerie in the Grosvenor Square townhouse he’d rented for the remainder of the Season. “Fine. All of them. Rodents and cats.” An unlikely, incompatible lot of creatures she’d assembled, as only Gertrude could.
She launched her next demand. “Stephen accompanies us.”
His heart squeezed. “Of course.” He’d also keep his brother close as long as he was able. Then, God willing, if all went to plan, Gertrude would be the one with access to that world where a Killoran could properly watch after Stephen.
“And I continue overseeing his lessons.”
“It is not possible.” Broderick stuffed his cravat into the front of his jacket. “Nor is it because I don’t believe you’ve done an admirable job with his schooling to this point,” he interjected when she made to speak. Gertrude had been assigned the unenviable task of instructing a boy who’d rather be picking pockets than sitting in a schoolroom, and despite that had taught him to read anyway. “You’ll be occupied, attending formal events and gatherings.” All her energies needed to go toward making her match . . . securing her future . . . being settled.
Gertrude snorted. “You have an optimistic view of my Season.”
“Don’t disparage yourself.” Broderick pressed his fist to his chest. “You’re a Killoran.”
“I’m blind,” she said bluntly, without self-pity. “No one wants a blind wife.”
“You’ll find an honor . . .” Before Broderick’s sins against the Marquess of Maddock had come to light and he’d discovered his role in the theft of that nobleman’s child, he’d have been able to offer the eldest of his siblings assurances. That no longer held true. He and Gertrude were those beloved mice being toyed with by Lord Maddock, whose claws would be out when they least expected. “You’ll marry a respectable gentleman who’ll overlook your partial blindness,” he settled for.
“Blind is blind,” she muttered.
“Your worth is far greater than your eyes,” he said quietly.
A sound of frustration escaped her. “I’m not relenting on this, Broderick.” She refocused on the black cat, motioning again for the creature to come down.
The cat batted at the air with his paw but remained rooted to his spot.
“Very well,” Broderick said, quickly adding, “but you’ll only do so if you do not have previous engagements.”
Gertrude shook her head. “That is not good enough.” She moved so that she stood directly in front of him. “Stephen requires routine, Broderick. As all children do,” she spoke in strident tones. “He needs some sense of order in his disordered life, and at the very least we can provide him that before he . . .” She bit down on her lower lip.
Oh, Christ. Broderick closed his eyes. He is going to be lost to us . . . “Two hours each morning,” he managed to get out.
“Three.”
Had she always been this tenacious? “Three,” he capitulated. But he needed her to know . . . “This arrangement, Gertrude . . . there will be benefits to you. Your security. Your safety. Marriage is just”—Gertrude stared expectantly back—“a business arrangement.” Just as all life was. A contract entered into between two people that proved mutually beneficial.
Gertrude snorted. “That’s a lot of rot.”
“It’s the truth,” he said simply. All relationships were based on what one could both do for another and receive for themselves in return.
“They’re not. But I’ll not debate the point with you. I have another term.”
“What is it?”
His sister drew her shoulders back. “I want Reggie to serve as my companion.”
“Absolutely not.” Impossible. Not after what had nearly transpired between him and her. She’d been oblivious to his lustful thoughts, but to have her close . . . ?
His flat rejection was met with a scowl. “And whyever not?”
Because he didn’t trust himself. Because he needed some distance with which to return their relationship to the platonic, businesslike one that had defined it for . . . all the years they’d known one another. “Because I might not have been born to the peerage, but I know enough the requirements for a lady’s governess or companion.” God, even as that admission left his mouth, he inwardly cringed at the pomposity of it.