A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,90

oohed and ahhed her way through the tour, but Simon could see her heart wasn’t in it. Everything had changed the moment Wyndham had appeared. His brother would not have hastened over here to impart good news.

Simon turned to her after showing her the large copper tub and water heating tank, setting his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to take a long, hot bath and pay attention to all the details so you can tell me about it later.” She blushed, which he loved, and he kissed her hard. “I shall see you at dinner. Just the two of us,” he promised when he saw the question in her eyes.

Yes, just the two of them, he thought as he went storming down the stairs.

Wyndham was looking out the picture window, his hands clasped behind his back, which was ramrod straight, just like Simon’s own—thanks to their father.

His brother would have made a good soldier, far better than Simon, who’d never really relished the discipline.

No, you only enjoyed the mayhem, killing, and carnage.

He ignored the cold, critical voice; dealing with Wyndham would be enough without dealing with his interfering conscience.

His brother, not surprisingly, exuded discipline; discipline and duty were what composed the ichor in his ice-cold veins.

He turned when Simon slammed the door. “I’d ask you if you wanted a drink, but I know you won’t be staying long.”

Wyndham ignored his rudeness. “I am pleased to see you getting on so well with your new wife.”

“I’ll wager you are.” Simon snorted, heading for the brandy decanter and pouring one for himself, perfectly aware of how boorish his actions were. “Well,” he said, turning with the tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “I wouldn’t go congratulating her, if I were you. She hates you.” A lot, he could have added, but he thought his brother got the picture.

“That is unfortunate,” Wyndham said coolly, turning his dead stare from the glass in Simon’s hands to Simon.

An emotion Simon couldn’t recognize flickered through his brother’s eyes, leaving him feeling uneasy. Any emotion on Wyndham’s face was worth noticing and generally cause for concern.

“I must admit I am both grateful and relieved to see you have given yourself over to your new life with such enthusiasm.”

Simon wished his brother would shut up but he knew telling him that would only prolong their encounter.

Instead, he gave him a stiff smile. “Thank you, brother. But you mustn’t speak of it as if I’ve made a big sacrifice. She is a beautiful, talented, intelligent, sensual woman.” He paused to enjoy the unusual sight of the duke’s razor-sharp cheekbones flushing. Poor Wyndham. His brother probably hadn’t been with a woman since his wife booted him from her bed. Too proud and rigid to bend his principles even though he would die without ever having another lover. A fool and a prude, in other words.

“How nice of you to come see that we are settling in,” Simon cocked his head. “Or have you come to supervise the consummation of our union?”

Wyndham’s cheeks went even darker at Simon’s vulgar words.

He smiled and tossed back half his glass. “I daresay my wife will not allow such a thing, no matter how much you might enjoy it.”

His brother’s jaws were so tight he could see the muscles flexing beneath the skin.

“So, with that out of the way. Was there anything else you wanted?” Simon poured the rest of the drink down his throat. When he looked up, he saw the duke giving him an odd stare.

“Did you read my letters—you never answered, but then I did not expect any response.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And yes, I received your letters, two per week.” He turned his glass in his hands, “And I threw each of them in the fire, not wishing to contaminate my bridal holiday with missives from you.”

The duke’s normally impassive face seemed to close in on itself, and Simon felt a twinge of remorse.

He’d told himself that he was going to move on from annoying his brother, that he was enjoying the marriage he’d been forced into—a great deal, in fact. That he would begin trying to forgive Wyndham and leave his corrosive rage behind.

What Wyndham had done to him and Bella had happened a long, long time ago. Yes, his brother had also manipulated and controlled Simon since he’d returned from the war, but his rage over that had already begun to drain away; after all, it was because of Wyndham’s manipulation that Simon was married to