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Standard disclaimer.
Gwen was halfway down the hallway, before Will could catch up to her.
Having become acquainted with her, and knowing Arthur as well as anyone could, Will could say with authority, that they brought out the worst in each other.
When they were in the same room, he reflected with exasperation, tempers flared and words became bullets. The devil knew why they found it so difficult, to be civil to each other.
"Gwen," Will said quietly, as he reached her.
She stopped and turned to face him. Her face was drawn, her mouth tight.
Having endured the lash of Arthur's temper, more than a few times in the past, Will understood how deeply it could cut.
"The estate's financial disaster, is not of Arthur's making," he said. "He's only trying to minimize the casualties. You can't blame him for that."
"Tell me what I can blame him for, then."
"In this situation?" A note of apology entered his voice. "Being realistic."
Gwen gave him a reproachful glance.
"Why should four families pay the price, for all the rest of us to survive? He has to find some other way."
Will rubbed the back of his neck, which was stiff, after two nights of sleeping on a lumpy bed in a cold farmhouse.
"Life is hardly ever fair, little friend. As you well know."
"Can't you talk him out of it?" she brought herself to ask.
"Not when I would make the same decision. The fact is, once we lease the land to London Ironstone, that tiny eastern portion of the estate, will become our only source of reliable profit."
Her head lowered.
"I thought you would be on the tenants' side."
"I am. You know I am." Will reached out, to take her narrow shoulders in a warm, sustaining grip. "I swear to you, we'll do everything possible to help them. Their farms will be reduced in size, but if they're willing to learn modern methods, they could produce double their annual yields."
To make certain she was listening, he gave her the gentlest possible shake.
"I'll persuade Arthur to give them every advantage. We'll reduce their rents and provide drainage and building improvements. We'll even supply machinery, to help them plow and harvest." Staring down into her mutinous face, he said ruefully, "Don't look like that. Good God, one would think, we were conspiring to murder someone."
"I have just the person in mind," she muttered.
"You had better pray that nothing ever happens to him, because, then I would become the Earl. And I would wash my hands of the estate."
"Would you really?" Gwen seemed genuinely shocked.
"Before you could blink."
"But you've worked so hard for the tenants..."
"As you yourself once said, Arthur is carrying a heavy burden. There's nothing in this world I want badly enough, to be willing to do what my brother is doing. Which means, I have no choice but to support him."
Gwen nodded glumly.
"Now you're being practical." Will smiled slightly. "Will you accompany me back to the lion's den?"
"No, I'm tired of quarreling."
Briefly, she rested her forehead against his chest, a close and trusting gesture, that touched him, nearly as much as it surprised him.
After parting company with Gwen, Will returned to the library.
Arthur was outwardly calm, as he stood at the table and stared down at the map. However, the pencil had been broken into multiple pieces, which were scattered across the carpet.
Contemplating his brother's hard profile, Will asked blandly,
"Could you try to be a bit more artful in dealing with her? Perhaps, use a smidgen of diplomacy? Because, even though, I happen to agree with your position, you're being a donkey's ass about it."
Arthur sent him a wrathful glance.
"I'll be damned, if I have to win her approval, before making decisions about my estate."
"Unlike either of us, she has a conscience. It won't hurt you at all to hear her opinion. Especially, since, she happens to be right."
"You just said you agreed with my position!"
"From a practical standpoint, but morally, Gwen is right."
Will watched as his brother prowled away from the table and back again, pacing like a caged tiger.
"You have to understand something about her," he said. "She's spirited on the surface, but sensitive at the core. If you show her just a little consideration..."
"I don't need you to explain her to me," Arthur snapped.
"I know her better than you," Will said sharply. "I've been living with her, for God's sake."
That earned him a chilling glance.
"Do you want her?" Arthur asked brusquely.
Will was baffled by the question, which seemed to have come from nowhere.
"Want her? In the biblical sense? Of course not, she's a widow. Liam's widow. How could anyone..."
His voice faded, when he saw that Arthur had resumed pacing, his expression murderous.
Thunderstruck, Will realized, what the most likely reason was, for all the free-floating hostility and high-riding tension, between his brother and Gwen.
He closed his eyes briefly.
This was bad. Bad for everyone, bad for the future, just bloody awful, compounding badness in all directions.
Nonetheless, he decided to test his theory, in the hope that he was mistaken.
"Although," Will continued, "She is a little beauty, isn't she? One could find all kinds of entertaining uses, for that sweet mouth. I wouldn't mind catching her in a dark corner and having some fun. She might resist at first, but soon, I'd have her writhing like a cat..."
Arthur lunged at him, in a blur of motion, seizing him by the lapels.
"Touch her and I'll kill you," he snarled.
Will stared at him in appalled disbelief.
"I knew it. Sweet Mother of God! You want her."
Arthur's visceral fury, appeared to fade a few degrees, as he realized he had just been outmaneuvered. He released Will abruptly.
"You took Liam's title and his home," Will continued in appalled disbelief, "And now you want his wife."
"His widow," Arthur muttered. "And I didn't take anything, you bastard."
"Have you seduced her?"
"Not yet."
Will clapped his hand to his forehead.
"Christ. Don't you think she's suffered enough? Oh, go on and glare. Snap me in pieces like that blasted pencil. It will only confirm, that you're no better than Liam."
Reading the outrage in his brother's expression, he added,
"Your relationships typically lasts, no longer than the contents of the meat larder. You have a devil of a temper, and if the way you just handled her, is an example of how you'll deal with disagreements..."
"That's enough," Arthur said, with dangerous softness.
Rubbing his forehead, Will sighed and continued wearily.
"Arthur, you and I have always overlooked each other's faults, but that doesn't mean we're oblivious to them. This is nothing but blind, stupid lust. Have the decency to leave her alone. Gwen is a sensitive and compassionate woman, who deserves to be loved...and if you have any capacity for that, I've never witnessed it. I've seen what happens to women who care about you. Nothing cools your lust, faster than affection."
Arthur gave him a cold stare.
"Are you going to say anything to her?"
"No, I'll hold my tongue and hope that you'll come to your senses."
"No need to worry," Arthur said darkly. "At this point, I've made her so ill-disposed towards me, that it would be a miracle, if I ever manage to lure her to my bed."
After considering the idea of missing dinner, for the second night in a row, Gwen decided, in a spirit of defiance, to join the family in the dining room.
It was Arthur's last evening at Hampshire Priory, so she could force herself to endure an hour and a half, of sitting at the same table with him.
Arthur insisted on seating Gwen, his face inscrutable, and she thanked him, with a few clipped words.
But even with that civilized distance between them, she was in an agony of nerves and anger...most of it directed at herself.
Those kisses...the impossible, terrible pleasure of them...how could he have done that to her?
And how could she have responded so wantonly?
The fault was more hers than his. He was a London rake, so of course he would make advances to her, or to any woman in his proximity.
She should have resisted and slapped him, but instead, she had stood there and let him...let him...
She couldn't find the right words for what he had done. He had shown her a side of herself, that she had never known existed.
She had been raised to believe, that lust was a sin, and she had self-righteously considered herself, to be above carnal desire...until Arthur had proven otherwise.
Dear God! The shocking heat of his tongue against hers, and the shivery weakness, that had made her want to sink to the floor and have him cover her...
She could have wept for shame.
Instead, she could only sit there suffocating while the conversation flowed around her.
It was a pity, she couldn't enjoy the meal...a succulent partridge pie, served with fried oyster patties and a crisp salted salad of celery, radishes, and cucumber.
As she forced herself to take a few bites, every mouthful seemed to stick in her throat.
As the conversation around the table, turned to the subject of the approaching holiday, Athena asked Arthur, if he planned to come to The Priory for Christmas.
"Would that please you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!"
"Will you bring presents?" Bia asked.
"Bia!" Gwen chided.
Arthur grinned.
"What would you like?" he asked the twins.
"Anything from Harcourt's," Bia exclaimed.
"I want people for Christmas," Athena said wistfully. "Bia, do you remember the Christmas balls, that Mama gave when we were little? All the ladies in their finery, and the gentlemen in formal attire...the music and dancing..."
"And the feasting..." Bia added. "Puddings, cakes, mince pies..."
"Next year, we'll make merry again," Cassandra said gently, smiling at the pair of them. She turned to Will. "How do you usually celebrate Christmas, cousin?"
He hesitated, before replying, seeming to ponder whether to answer truthfully. Honesty won out.
"On Christmas Day, I visit friends in a parasitical fashion, going from house to house and drinking, until I finally fall unconscious in someone's parlor. Then someone pours me into a carriage and sends me home, and my servants put me to bed."
"That doesn't sound very merry," Athena said.
"Beginning this year," Arthur said, "I intend for us all to do the holiday justice. In fact, I've invited a friend to share Christmas with us, at Hampshire Priory."
The table fell silent, everyone staring at him in collective surprise.
"Who?" Gwen asked suspiciously. For his sake, she hoped it wasn't one of those railway men, plotting to destroy tenant farms.
"Mr. Harcourt himself."
Amid the girls' gasping and squealing, Gwen scowled at Arthur.
'Damn him, he knows it isn't right, to invite a stranger to a house of mourning.'
"The owner of a department store?" she asked. "No doubt, accompanied by a crowd of fashionable friends and hangers-on? My lord, surely you haven't forgotten that we're all in mourning!"
"How could I?" Arthur parried, with a pointed glance that incensed her. "But...Mr. Harcourt will come alone, as a matter of fact, I doubt it will burden my household unduly, to set one extra place at the table on Christmas Eve."
"A gentleman of Mr. Harcourt's influence, must already have a thousand invitations for the holiday. Why must he come here?" she asked.
Arthur's eyes glinted with enjoyment, at her barely contained fury.
"Harcourt is a private man. I suppose, the idea of a quiet holiday in the country appeals to him. For his sake, I would like to have a proper Christmas feast. And perhaps, a few carols could be sung."
The girls chimed in at once.
"Oh, do say yes, Gwen!"
"That would be splendicious!"
Even Cassandra murmured something to the effect, that she couldn't see how it would do any harm.
"Why stop there?" Gwen asked sarcastically, giving Arthur a look of open animosity. "Why not have musicians and dancing, and a great tall tree lit with candles?"
"What excellent suggestions," came his silky reply. "Yes, let's have all of that."
Infuriated to the point of speechlessness, Gwen glared at him, while Cassandra discreetly pried the butter knife, from her clenched fingers.
Stay safe!