He walked into the room and waited to be noticed, waited in vain as his father started speaking again.
“This is probably your fault, Valentin.”
“I think not. You asked me to speak to him. You were the one who wanted him out of my business and into yours.”
“Only because you refuse to face up to your responsibilities.”
Val sighed. “This is not about me. Perhaps if we focused on Anthony, we might find some answers.”
Anthony cleared his throat, and they both swung around to stare at him. His father spoke first. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Staying with a friend.”
“And you didn’t think to let us know?”
“Father, I’m almost twenty-six, not six. Why on earth would you want to know where I am?”
“Because . . .” The marquis glared at Valentin, his face still flushed with anger.
“Because you think Valentin has been leading me astray again?” Anthony stared at his brother. “He has been far too busy telling me to insinuate myself into the family business to bother about that.”
“Perhaps Valentin has shown some sense for the first time in his life.”
Val laughed. “Hardly. Can’t you see that because of my interference, Anthony is as angry with you as he is with me?”
“Anthony isn’t angry. He’s always been an excellent son.”
“Unlike me, of course.”
Anthony knocked hard on the desk. “Perhaps you could both shut up and pay some attention to me for a change. I’m sick to death of being either ignored or talked about as if I’m not here.”
The marquis frowned. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate way to speak to your father and older brother. We were worried about you.”
“Really? It’s hard to tell.” Anthony realized he was shaking as waves of heat rolled through him. He took a step forward until he was in between the two men. “You both treat me like a child.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Anthony forced a smile. “You see, sir? You can’t even allow me to have an opinion, can you? Valentin is the only one in this family allowed to do that, isn’t he?”
Val frowned. “He does have a point, Father.”
Anthony snorted. “Don’t try to placate me, Val. I know what you both think.”
“And what is that?”
Anthony swallowed hard and forced himself to look his brother in the eye. “That I’m too soft, too vulnerable, too damned young to make my own decisions.”
“We’ve already had this conversation, Anthony.” Val pulled on his gloves. “I told you what I thought, and you refused to discuss it further. Maybe when you show the maturity to have that discussion, then I, at least, will begin to take you seriously. I cannot of course speak for our father.”
Briefly Anthony closed his eyes, tried to gather his beleaguered resources. “Just because I was raped when I was nineteen does not make me less of a man.” He took the time to glare at them both. “That’s what you believe, isn’t it? That somehow I need to be protected from myself.”
Horror crossed the marquis’s face followed quickly by pity. Anthony hated both emotions, needed nothing more to confirm what he’d long suspected. He’d never be worthy in his father’s eyes, even less so now that his father knew the truth.
“I knew there was more to that kidnapping. Why didn’t you tell me?” The marquis avoided Anthony’s gaze and rounded on Val, his voice rising in accusation.
“Oh for God’s sake, Father! This isn’t about Val. It’s about me.”
“Anthony . . .” In an unseen display of unity, Val crossed the rug to stand by the marquis’s side. The formidable likeness between them shocked Anthony to the core. “That really wasn’t helpful.”
Anthony’s hands tightened into fists. How dare Val try to make him feel guilty for speaking the truth. “Did it ever occur to either of you that I like what I do in bed?”
“But you don’t.”
“How the hell do you know?” Anthony realized he was shouting and that he didn’t care who heard him.
“Because I’ve been in every possible sexual situation imaginable, and I know.”
“Just because you didn’t enjoy something means I can’t? We are only half brothers. Perhaps my tastes are different from yours.”
“How would you know what your tastes are when you’ve allowed them to be dictated by rape?”
The marquis suddenly moved as if to shield Anthony from his brother. “That’s enough, Valentin.”
“But, sir . . .”
“I said that’s enough.”
Anthony bowed to his father. “Am I supposed to thank you for saving me from the lash of Val’s tongue? As I’ve been trying to tell you for the last few minutes, I do not need your protection.”
“There is no need to speak to Father like that, Anthony.”
Anthony laughed. “Well, there’s something. I’ve managed to get you defending each other. But then why should I be surprised? It’s always been about you two, hasn’t it? I’m just a side show. My mother and my sisters are all secondary to your precious relationship.”
The marquis’s expression tightened. “You will go and change, present yourself to your mother, who is worried sick about you, and come back to my study.”
Anthony picked up his hat. “I’ll certainly go and see my mother, but I’m not coming back here to be shown the error of my ways or have you feel sorry for me.”
“Then where will you go? This is your home.”
“Actually, this is your home, Father, and one day, when he stops being so pigheaded and realizes he wants it, it will be Valentin’s. It’s probably time I found somewhere else to live anyway.”
The marquis lifted his chin, his gray eyes cold. “And how will you afford that when I cut off your allowance?”
“I’ll survive. In truth, thanks to Val, I’m more employable than most other noblemen. Perhaps this is the only way I can prove to you both that I’m not what you think, that I can succeed by myself without being cosseted.”
Valentin smiled. “Good luck.” He shot an irritated glance at the marquis. “And before you start, I promised Anthony I’d not tell you what happened with Aliabad. I honored that request. It was the least I could do.”
“Valentin,” Anthony said. “I don’t need your pity or guilt either.”
Val turned back, his expression chilly. “My feelings are my own. If I’m not allowed to speculate about yours, don’t you dare do it to me.”
“Agreed.” Anthony nodded at his brother and then at his father. “I’m going to see my mother. I’ll be in touch about the rest of it.”
The marquis swallowed hard and put his hand on the desk as if to steady himself. “I would appreciate that.”
Anthony fought an unheard of desire to kneel at his father’s feet and bawl like a babe. He had to see this through. He had to prove that he was more than capable of running his own life.
“Good morning, sir.”
He turned his back on his brother and his father and hurried up the stairs to his room.
“What do you mean I have visitors? I’m in the bath! Tell them to go away!”
Marguerite glared at Mary, her maid who stood by the door to her bedroom, hands clutched around a drying cloth.
“Not that kind of visitor, my lady, just your family.”
“Tell them I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Yes, my lady. Mrs. Jones is entertaining them quite nicely, but they were asking for you.”
“Help me dress, then.”
Marguerite sighed and stood up, allowing the steaming fragranced water to stream down her body. After her unexpectedly erotic afternoon, she’d hoped to bathe, have her dinner in bed, and go to sleep. Her skin still felt hot, as if all her senses were on fire. She wished she’d overcome her fear and stayed to make love with Anthony again. Perhaps he could’ve tied her up that time . . .