“It is difficult, I agree.”
“I have come for my ward,” Damien said abruptly.
Rafael, who had pictured this inevitable meeting at least a half dozen times in his mind, now moved to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Brandy?”
“No.”
“Well, brother, I trust I find you well?”
“As you see, Rafael. I am quite well.”
“And your doubtless lovely wife? Her name is Elaine, I believe? Is she well?”
“Yes, certainly. I want Victoria, Rafael. I don’t want difficulties with you. Nor do I wish to extend this conversation beyond what it must be. Have her fetched.”
“I don’t think so, Damien. I believe any court in the land would agree that you have abused your position as her guardian.”
“You’re being quite ridiculous, of course.”
“Do you really think so? Shall I tell you how I happened to meet Victoria?”
Damien merely shrugged, as if bored. “If you wish,” he said. But Rafael knew better. His twin was nearing an explosive point, his frustration and rage clear to Rafael. This time, however, he was dealing from the winning hand.
“Remember as boys how the smugglers and their activities always drew us out of the hall at nights? Well, I was riding near the coast just south of Axmouth and felt that old excitement. I rode down near the beach, and sure enough, there were two smugglers on their way to meet some fine French brandy, I suppose. It turned out that the smugglers had caught a very frightened girl. I saved her. It was Victoria, of course, trying to escape you.”
“She stole twenty pounds. Any court in the land would be shocked at such behavior of a ward toward her guardian.”
“Perhaps. But then again, twenty pounds is a very paltry amount compared to fifteen thousand pounds, is it not?”
Damien stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Ah, so you visited Westover, did you? Or did Victoria give you that information?”
“No, I visited him first. He took me for you, of course, and his concern over Victoria’s, er, kidnapping was profound. I suppose you decided it was a very easy way to increase your coffers. After all, what chance would an eighteen-year-old girl have against you, Baron Drago?”
Damien said nothing.
“I assured Mr. Westover that Victoria was now quite safe and that the fifteen thousand pounds would be returned to her trust.”
“You have no power at all in this matter, Rafael. None at all. Get me the girl, now. I have been patient with you, but my patience is wearing thin.”
“Mr. Westover,” Rafael continued, ignoring his brother’s words, “was relieved that I—rather, you—had undergone so honorable a change of heart. He now believes you back on the path of guardian righteousness.”
“Though you have been gone from England’s shores for many years now, brother, surely even you remember that a guardian holds the only power. And I will continue to hold absolute power over her until she is twenty-five.”
“Or until she marries,” Rafael said very quietly.
“There was only one gentleman who showed any interest, and he cried off.”
“David Esterbridge, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“A paltry excuse for a man, that one. However, you assume that no other gentleman will want her? She is something of an heiress, after all.”
“You may be certain that I will be well on my guard against fortune hunters.”
“Indeed, you will be so very careful that she will reach twenty-five unwed and unfortunately quite poor?”
“I have no reason to continue this with you, Rafael. It’s none of your affair. Now, if you don’t tell me where she is, I shall find her myself.”