The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,59

the final dinner,” Lady Clara gushed.

Alex smiled at the praise. “You should have seen her Wednesday evening. She put heaven’s stars to shame.”

Sarah blushed at the profusion of compliments.

“Grandmother! Where are you?”

“Heavens! You’d think these boys were never taught any manners. In here, Robert.”

“Robert? What the hell is he doing here?” Alex’s face grew thunderous.

“Now, now,” Lady Clara placated.

Robert? Alex’s brother was here? Sarah’s blush turned into a blanche. Her mouthful of food went down like a rock.

The man Sarah had seen on television just this morning entered the room. He paused when he saw her, then nodded his head before grazing his grandmother’s cheek and stalking past her to stand beside Alex’s chair, where he threw a pile of tabloids onto the dining table with a thwack, making Sarah flinch and the dishes clatter.

“Hello, Robert. So good to see you again.” Alex’s voice was sarcastic as he raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Robert didn’t bother with a greeting. “This,” he said pointing his finger at the papers on the table, “this is exactly what I was afraid of. This,” he stated, pointing again at the papers for emphasis, “is my worst nightmare!”

Sarah’s first impression was correct. Robert definitely had a taste for the melodramatic.

Alex started to brush the papers aside when the photo caught his attention. Picking up the paper, the thunderclouds returned. He shifted his eyes to Sarah, and then back to the paper he held. His mouth flattened out into a frown.

“Your worst nightmare, what about Sarah?” he said, indicating her presence.

Sarah? What did this have to do with me? she wondered.

Robert didn’t even bother to look in her direction. “Sarah isn’t running for parliament on a conservative ticket. Supermodels, actresses . . . that singer, your playboy lifestyle is going to crush me,” he growled.

Dramatic flair or not, she winced at the bitterness in his voice. Still confused over what this had to do with her, she reached for the paper Alex discarded.

Something about the grainy photo looked familiar. She continued staring at it until it dawned on her with sickening clarity. She and Alex lying beneath an oak tree in an intimate embrace she remembered only too well. The caption read, ‘Port Meadow Picnic.’ She didn’t bother to read the story below the fold that accompanied the photo.

Her hand flew to her throat as her face grew ashen.

“My dear.” Lady Clara laid a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, are you okay?”

Sarah’s ears buzzed, the room grew dim, as everyone around her seemed to recede into the background. Memories of the knowing looks and snide public comments about Adrian’s affair and their divorce flooded her brain. Reminded of the article about Adrian earlier in the week, Sarah also recalled her fears of rushing into a relationship with Alex. A relationship which could plainly have another very public end.

Alex was remarkably calm as he rose from his seat, glancing at Sarah with concern. “Robert, do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?”

“I’m supposed to sit back and watch my political aspirations go down the toilet just so you can cop off with this woman?”

Sarah snapped back to the present. She didn’t need a translation to understand the insult. Everything happened so fast after that.

Alex drew back his fist and punched his brother in the stomach.

Sarah gasped as Robert doubled over with a strangled groan.

“That was for insulting Sarah,” Alex ground out before dealing an uppercut to Robert’s chin, opening a gash that started bleeding almost immediately. “That was for the rugby match.”

Robert brought his hand up to his chin to staunch the blood. “You bloody-well better be prepared to fight. Let’s take this outside.”

Sarah was so shocked she couldn’t even articulate a plea for Lady Clara to do something. No need, because Lady Clara was already intervening.

“Boys! Enough. Will you have Sarah thinking I have two hooligans for grandsons?” She stood between them like a referee at a boxing match telling the opponents to go to their respective corners.

“Robert, go wash up that cut and bandage it. Alex, I’m sure your hand could use some ice.” He winced when she mentioned his hand. “Now,” she urged when they continued to face off at one another. She followed Robert out of the room.

Sarah shook with anger, fear, and the fight or flight response caused by the altercation. She’d never seen Alex so angry, so . . . violent. She heard ice rattling in the ice bucket as Alex put some in his napkin to wrap around his