A Brother's Honor (Grangers) - By Brenda Jackson Page 0,14
east of that was what had been his parents’ homestead and where he had lived for the first sixteen years of his life. His grandfather had closed up the house after his father had been convicted. After the trial had ended, they had gone back just long enough to pack up their things to move to the main house with their grandfather.
Jace looked to the west to where the boathouse was located along with the entertainment center where his parents had hosted most of their parties. But his gaze stayed fixed on the boathouse because it was there, one noonday in late October, that his mother had been found dead. Shot to death. And according to the authorities, their father’s fingerprints had been on the murder weapon.
“Hannah still makes the best coffee,” Dalton said, opening the door to join Jace on the porch.
Jace turned, grateful for the interruption. He was about to travel too far down memory lane to suit him. “See what you were missing all those years you refused to come back here?”
“Yeah, I see.” Dalton got quiet, and Jace figured he was thinking, about the past, about the present and now the future. Jace pondered the future. They had made promises, but none of them had talked about those promises since making them at their grandfather’s deathbed.
Their grandfather had flatlined immediately after his last words to them, and they’d finally had to accept that Richard Granger was now gone from their lives. It had been hard going to Sutton Hills to deliver the news to Hannah and even harder to notify his father and make funeral arrangements without him.
Yesterday’s memorial services had brought out people Jace hadn’t seen in years, trickling in to pay their last respects to a man a few might have feared, others respected and some would have envied. What others thought of him didn’t matter to Jace. To him, Richard Granger was a man to be admired. A man who didn’t take crap from anyone, and he had raised his son the same way. Except that Sheppard had a softer side that he’d inherited from his mother.
One or two mourners who’d attended had asked about Jace’s father, but most made solicitous statements about the old man and avoided the topic of Sheppard Granger altogether. The services were short. That’s the way Richard would have wanted it. It was over, but the grief was still there for Jace. Every room in the house held memories.
“I wondered where you two had gone off to,” Caden said, stepping out on the porch, as well.
“Where were you?” Dalton asked, deciding to ease down to sit on a nearby step.
“Talking to my manager. I’m supposed to be in New York for two concerts in a couple of weeks.”
When his brothers just stared at him without saying anything, Caden said, “And no, I didn’t forget the promise. However, I made a commitment that the band and I need to keep. I do have a life.”
“You’re not the only one,” Dalton mumbled. “I can’t believe we made that promise. Shit, I haven’t done this kind of work in years.”
“You mean prostituting yourself to the oldest bidder wasn’t real work?” Caden sneered. “Being a boy toy has it benefits, evidently.” He had met Dalton’s lovers on two occasions, and both had been old enough to be his mother. Caden really shouldn’t be surprised. Dalton was thought of as the extremely handsome Granger with looks that could turn heads no matter the age. And because of those looks, women had always been his baby brother’s weakness.
“Hey, don’t hate me. And didn’t you hear what Granddad said before he died? He was proud of me because I had made something of myself.”
“Evidently, he knew something that we don’t,” Jace said, rubbing his chin as he gazed at Dalton. He had wondered about the old man’s words, but he’d been too occupied to dwell on them until now.
Dalton met his brothers’ gazes, smiled and then bragged, “I’m a billionaire.”
It seemed the air vibrated under Dalton’s words. Jace heard Caden’s chuckle of disbelief. But for some reason, Jace believed Dalton. “And how did you manage that?” he asked. “Did your duchess die and leave you a few castles, a number of pubs and a boatload of expensive jewelry?”
What Jace thought of as a devilish grin tugged at Dalton’s lips before he said, “Victoria’s not a duchess, she’s a lady—of English nobility—and she’s very much alive.” He took a sip of his coffee and then asked,