Napoleon?’ Devlin matched his brother’s volume. ‘Go to the devil, Ned.’
Ned stepped from behind the desk and faced his brother. ‘Our father worried every day that you would meet your death. Not only during the war, but every day of your sad youth. You have been a rash care-for-nobody and it is past time you became a grown man.’
Devlin clenched his fists, standing nose to nose with his older brother. ‘I fought for my life before I ever went to war. To be a man means more than following the dictates of a father who thought he could pull a string and have all his bidding done. When will you assume manhood, Ned? Have you ever had a thought of your own?’
‘You are addressing the head of the family, little brother.’
‘I am addressing my father. You may as well be him, Ned. You always did whatever he said. You and Percy and our sisters. You all blindly did his bidding. If he said jump, you jumped. If he said marry this young lady, you made the offer.’
‘Leave Serena out of this!’ Ned’s eyes blazed. He shoved hard against Devlin’s chest.
Devlin automatically shoved back, his soldier’s reflexes operating. With his greater height, youth, and war-honed strength, he knocked his brother to the floor. ‘Leave me to live my own life! I will choose when and who I marry.’
‘Indeed you shall, you insufferable ingrate.’ Ned pickedhimself off the floor and, to Devlin’s surprise, came at him with a swinging fist that connected smartly to Devlin’s jaw.
‘Deuce,’ yelled Devlin, lunging back at him, toppling them both to the floor. They rolled, grunting and punching, knocking down a small table and sending the wine decanter crashing to the floor, red wine splashing.
‘Stop this! Stop at once!’ Serena cried from the doorway.
The two men paid her no heed. On their feet now, they smashed into a bookcase and books rained down from the shelves. Blood dripped from Ned’s nose and Devlin’s coat ripped.
‘Barclay! Barclay!’ Serena screamed for the butler as she ran over to her husband and brother-in-law. She pulled on Devlin’s back to get him off Ned.
‘Master Devlin. Master Ned.’ A voice of authority seemed to boom directly from their childhood. White-haired Barclay entered the room. ‘You ought to be ashamed.’
They stopped fighting at once.
Ned recovered first, dabbing his nose with the lace-edged handkerchief Serena offered him. ‘Thank you, Barclay. We are quite in control again. Your help is no longer necessary.’
Devlin felt a pain in his stomach that was not the result of a punching fist. How had he wound up brawling with his older brother? He’d seen Percy and Ned in a scrap or two, always carefully kept from their father, but it was unthinkable that he should actually strike this man who’d searched all through the wounded and dying in Brussels until he found his younger brother.
‘Ned, I—’
‘Enough, Devlin.’ The Marquess folded the handkerchief.
Serena looked as if she might swoon at any moment, filling Devlin with more guilt. Her face was pale as she righted the toppled table and tried to pick up the glass fragments. How could he have distressed her like this?
Ned straightened his clothes and brushed himself off. He glanced at his wife. ‘Serena, would you leave us, please?’
‘I would not wish—’ she began.
‘Leave us. We shall not come to further blows.’ Devlin had not thought his brother could speak so softly.
With a worried look at them both, she left the room, one hand covering her mouth.
Ned composed himself and returned to his desk, showing no signs that they had been rolling on the floor moments before. ‘Serena tells me you were in the company of an unchaperoned young woman.’
Devlin rolled his eyes. He might be standing before his father again. Too many times his father ignored what Devlin tried to say and went directly to whatever would hurt him most.
‘Your point, Ned?’
‘Did you introduce my wife to your fancy
Ned stepped from behind the desk and faced his brother. ‘Our father worried every day that you would meet your death. Not only during the war, but every day of your sad youth. You have been a rash care-for-nobody and it is past time you became a grown man.’
Devlin clenched his fists, standing nose to nose with his older brother. ‘I fought for my life before I ever went to war. To be a man means more than following the dictates of a father who thought he could pull a string and have all his bidding done. When will you assume manhood, Ned? Have you ever had a thought of your own?’
‘You are addressing the head of the family, little brother.’
‘I am addressing my father. You may as well be him, Ned. You always did whatever he said. You and Percy and our sisters. You all blindly did his bidding. If he said jump, you jumped. If he said marry this young lady, you made the offer.’
‘Leave Serena out of this!’ Ned’s eyes blazed. He shoved hard against Devlin’s chest.
Devlin automatically shoved back, his soldier’s reflexes operating. With his greater height, youth, and war-honed strength, he knocked his brother to the floor. ‘Leave me to live my own life! I will choose when and who I marry.’
‘Indeed you shall, you insufferable ingrate.’ Ned pickedhimself off the floor and, to Devlin’s surprise, came at him with a swinging fist that connected smartly to Devlin’s jaw.
‘Deuce,’ yelled Devlin, lunging back at him, toppling them both to the floor. They rolled, grunting and punching, knocking down a small table and sending the wine decanter crashing to the floor, red wine splashing.
‘Stop this! Stop at once!’ Serena cried from the doorway.
The two men paid her no heed. On their feet now, they smashed into a bookcase and books rained down from the shelves. Blood dripped from Ned’s nose and Devlin’s coat ripped.
‘Barclay! Barclay!’ Serena screamed for the butler as she ran over to her husband and brother-in-law. She pulled on Devlin’s back to get him off Ned.
‘Master Devlin. Master Ned.’ A voice of authority seemed to boom directly from their childhood. White-haired Barclay entered the room. ‘You ought to be ashamed.’
They stopped fighting at once.
Ned recovered first, dabbing his nose with the lace-edged handkerchief Serena offered him. ‘Thank you, Barclay. We are quite in control again. Your help is no longer necessary.’
Devlin felt a pain in his stomach that was not the result of a punching fist. How had he wound up brawling with his older brother? He’d seen Percy and Ned in a scrap or two, always carefully kept from their father, but it was unthinkable that he should actually strike this man who’d searched all through the wounded and dying in Brussels until he found his younger brother.
‘Ned, I—’
‘Enough, Devlin.’ The Marquess folded the handkerchief.
Serena looked as if she might swoon at any moment, filling Devlin with more guilt. Her face was pale as she righted the toppled table and tried to pick up the glass fragments. How could he have distressed her like this?
Ned straightened his clothes and brushed himself off. He glanced at his wife. ‘Serena, would you leave us, please?’
‘I would not wish—’ she began.
‘Leave us. We shall not come to further blows.’ Devlin had not thought his brother could speak so softly.
With a worried look at them both, she left the room, one hand covering her mouth.
Ned composed himself and returned to his desk, showing no signs that they had been rolling on the floor moments before. ‘Serena tells me you were in the company of an unchaperoned young woman.’
Devlin rolled his eyes. He might be standing before his father again. Too many times his father ignored what Devlin tried to say and went directly to whatever would hurt him most.
‘Your point, Ned?’
‘Did you introduce my wife to your fancy
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