Ash groaned aloud, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Did you like the reading that much?”
“Yes, especially the part where you mimicked a female’s voice and pressed her hand to your chest, though if you flutter your damn eyelashes one more time at me, I’m going to pick them out, one by one, and feed them to the cat.”
“Well, that’s silly.” Hunter dropped the sheet. “We don’t even own a cat.”
“I’ll buy one.”
“Why waste money? Simply shoot me and be done with the whole business.”
“Am I truly here to drink tea and gossip?” Ash leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg. “And before you answer in the affirmative, the tea better damn well have been laced with something fortifying.”
A soft knock sounded on the door, followed by John. Why the butler was bringing the tea rather than one of the kitchen staff — Ash was afraid to ask. It was always wiser not to ask questions where Hunter was involved, if one wanted to keep one’s sanity, that is.
“That will be all, John,” Hunter excused the butler and began pouring the tea. Silence ensued as his twin added a bit of cream to each cup and handed one to Ash.
The minute Ash took a sip, Hunter asked, “So how many times have you kissed her then?”
The tea spewed out of Ash’s mouth and onto the gossip sheets littered on the table.
“Damn.” Hunter lifted Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers and sighed. “My favorite one.”
Ash coughed a few times then took another sip only to have his brother interrupt again with his irritating questions. “I’m waiting for an answer.”
Ash said nothing.
“By God, I know math has never been your strong suit, but taking five minutes to add up a few kisses! Where’s your decency, man! At least keep the count to what you can keep track of on your fingers and toes!”
Calmly, Ash set the tea down and leaned back in his chair, meeting his brother’s irritated gaze. “As I said before—”
“You mean when you lied?”
“As I said before,” Ash repeated, jaw clenched. “It is none of your business, and I refuse to discuss it.”
“She must marry.”
“I believe all of London is aware of that simple truth, but thank you for repeating it.”
“A title.”
“Yes.”
Hunter set his tea down and pointed at Ash. “A title.”
“Your point?”
“You like her. She likes you.”
“So we should marry? Is that it?”
“She needs protection. Why not you?”
Ash let out a humorless laugh. “Why not me? Because I’m a disease… I’m a cold-blooded killer? Perhaps, I do not want to marry.”
“Rubbish.”
“Not everyone wants what you have.”
“But once… you did.”
“Ah, a reminder of my past sins. Thank you. I’ll see myself out.” Ash rose from his seat.
Hunter cursed. “Ash, wait… I simply want you to be happy. And I believe she would make you happy.”
Ash hung his head. “She does not want me, brother… and I’m sorry if you refuse to understand that simple truth. I cannot tie myself to a woman who might one day have eyes for someone else.”
The room fell silent.
Ash sat back down; Hunter joined him and whispered, “But if she did?”
“Then it would be pointless.” Ash truly did wish the tea had been made of something stronger. “I, um… I may not live to see it.”
“Save us all from the drama of you shooting yourself again,” Hunter said lightly, though his eyes were telling he was terrified. Utterly terrified.
“Not that.” Ash waved him off. “I have a bullet lodged somewhere in my chest very merrily making its way toward my heart.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Has the doctor given you… a diagnosis? Have you sought out a second opinion?”
“You sound like Pierce.”
“Dear God, don’t tell him that. The man would brag on it for years.” Hunter smiled. “Have you though?”
Ash shrugged.
“Right, a shrug while we talk about life or death.”
“Would you rather I weep?”
“I’d rather you feel something akin to regret. You could very well be dying without doing the one thing we both know you’ve wanted to do for your entire existence. Since you were a boy in short pants, chasing the maids up the stairs.”
“That was you.”
“My point is… you haven’t even given yourself a chance.”
Ash lifted his head. “For what?”
“Love.”
Ash wanted to laugh it off, like he usually had when Hunter brought up painful memories of the past — memories of Ash telling Hunter that one day he was going to marry the most beautiful girl in London and that they would love one another just like Mother and Father and live in a real castle. He’d been a boy of ten, but the idea had remained for some time, and it had grown the minute he’d seen Hunter’s wife, only to be stamped out the minute her soul had left his earth.
“Thank you..” Ash mumbled, standing to his feet. “…for the tea.”
Hunter nodded. “You’ll think about it then? The second opinion?”
Ash exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you stop reading gossip rags and inviting me over for tea?”
Hunter seemed to think about it for a moment then shook his head. “No. I’m afraid I’m not willing to give up that vice.”
“Will you at least stop asking me how many times I’ve kissed the girl?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.” Ash looked heavenward.
“But, at least give me one small hint, minute, if you will. Doesn’t even have to signify…”
Ash smirked, finally feeling like he’d somehow gained the upper hand. ”Dear brother… I lost track after last evening.” He tilted his head. “Good day.”
Hunter’s eye widened and then narrowed. “You son of a bitch! You seduced her! Why, I can’t believe you’d—”
Ash shut the door in his face and made his way back toward Dominique’s residence, feeling rather cheerful that, for once, he’d ended a conversation with his brother cursing and not the other way around.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I see every piece of the puzzle, every side, every possible outcome, and in every single ending it’s her — but I am not by her side. I cannot fathom how my life will continue to have meaning when its very purpose has started and ended with her. How the devil did that happen? —The Grimm Reaper