His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 12

Jane Russell was a stunning woman of fifty-two years with dark-red hair and hazel eyes. Lawrence wasn't fooled by his mother's beauty, however. He knew she was one of the fiercest matriarchs in all the ton when it came to schemes, especially those of a matchmaking nature. She also had the uncanny ability to appear in the lives of her children when they least expected. Like right now.

"Does everyone just walk into my house without knocking? Where the bloody hell is MacTavish, and why isn't he doing his bloody job?" Lawrence flexed his throbbing hand, and Avery rubbed his sore eye, each shooting glares at the other.

"A good butler knows better than to stop a man's mother at the front door." Jane pulled at the tips of her gloves, removing them while she stared at her sons, one reddish brow arched in disapproval. "What are you two quarreling about?"

Lawrence and Avery shared a look. Avery gave Lawrence a jerk of the head so slight their mother would miss it.

Be silent.

He quite agreed. Their mother could not know what they were fighting about.

"A bit of brotherly nonsense, eh, Avery?" Lawrence asked, his tone casual.

"Yes. Brotherly nonsense," he said, emphasizing the word, and then with his back to their mother he mouthed five more. "One week and she's gone."

One week? He couldn't let Zehra go back-not to Persia, at any rate. Her parents had been murdered in front of her very eyes. She would never be safe there. She would end up back on an auctioneer's platform somewhere else, and he wouldn't be able to help her. He'd have to explain to Avery the danger Zehra faced, but now was not the time, not with their mother staring at them.

"Lawrence, stop scowling-it ruins your good looks. You'll never catch a wife with a sour expression like that," his mother snapped. "Now, I've brought good news, and I'd like to share it with you over breakfast." Jane turned and left the study, clearly expecting her sons to follow.

Avery and Lawrence waited until she was out of earshot.

"You give her back to me in one week. I'll make sure she has the funds and the means to return home safely," Avery whispered.

"That's just it," Lawrence shot back. "She has no home. Her parents were murdered by a man they trusted. She barely made it out of there alive, only to be kidnapped and sold. That's not a place she can safely return to. She'll end up being sold somewhere else, if not killed."

Avery placed a hand on Lawrence's shoulder. "I understand. You've acted surprisingly noble, brother." Lawrence flinched at his brother's tone. He wasn't a damned hero, but he wasn't a bastard, either. Avery didn't notice his reaction and continued. "But your duties are at an end. The ring that brought her here has been smashed. I assure you, she will be safe now. It's not as though my people don't have connections in Persia. I promise to see her safely settled and looked after."

Lawrence didn't trust those connections. He felt responsible for his Zehra. Letting her leave sounded like a terrible idea.

"You hear me, Lawrence? I'll be forced to come and get her if you don't bring her to me."

Avery stared his brother down, but Lawrence didn't respond, let alone flinch. Avery might be a spy, but Lawrence was still the older brother. He was not about to lose this silent war.

"Tell Mother I'm sorry to miss breakfast." Avery walked away, leaving Lawrence standing there, hands balled into fists. He took several slow breaths before he felt calm enough to go into the dining room. His mother was already seated at the table, eating a poached egg and a few pieces of toast with marmalade.

"Come and sit, dear." She patted the chair beside her.

"Mother, you know how much I love to see you, but-"

Jane chuckled. "I'm certain I am interrupting something, possibly a tryst with a mistress, but she can wait. You will sit and dine with me while I explain to you what news I have."

"Luck? Heavens, dear, being a bachelor and having mistresses isn't luck. Any decent woman with two eyes in her head would want you. You're attractive and well off, but that's not what I want for you. You should be happy-"

"I am!" Lawrence growled.

"You're not. You wouldn't be growling like a grumpy old spaniel if you were. You're pining away, and you just don't wish to admit it."

"Pining implies there's a woman I love whom I cannot have, and that is certainly not the case." Even as he said this, he couldn't help but think of Zehra, a woman he wanted desperately. But he knew well enough not to confuse that with love.

"Well, perhaps you should be. Men are always improved when they marry. A wife settles you, gives you a purpose and joy."

He chuckled. "Only to some. You were lucky when you married Papa. Others are foolish enough to marry for money or social advancement. You cannot find a woman at Almack's after just one dance and know that she is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with."

"You certainly can. That's exactly how I met your father."

His father. The perfect husband, the perfect father-the shadow he left over his sons was too large for any to escape.

"Mother, not all of us will live up to your standards. We can't all be just like him. I'm not even your favorite, so why waste your time on me?"

The sharp rattle of a teacup clattering on its saucer made him look her way. Her eyes were narrowed.