Page 8 of Sin and Serendipity

Except for the clanking of fork on plate, Freddy was silent.

Robert frowned, his jaw working as he watched his brother attack his plate of food like a man possessed. “She worries about you, you know,” he said gruffly. I worry about you.

Freddy scoffed around a mouthful of kipper. “She worries about our family reputation. She’s afraid I’ll tarnish it.”

“That isn’t true, and you know it,” Robert said sharply. “But, no, it didn’t look very good, disappearing like that from your own mother’s ball.”

Freddy waved this away with a flick of his fork. “I was discreet. I doubt anyone even noticed I’d gone.”

“Mother noticed,“ Robert gritted out.

Freddy shrugged again. “I’m her son. It’s her duty to notice.”

“And I noticed.”

“Well, of course you did,” Freddy said, rolling his eyes. “You’re as meddlesome as a mother hen.”

“Freddy—“

“Leave it, will you?” The words burst from Freddy’s throat, sharp and over-loud in the quiet of the room. “For God’s sake, Robert, I’m a grown man. What I do is no one’s business but my own.”

Robert arched an imperious brow. “I am the head of this family—“

“But you’re not my father. Or my keeper.” Freddy’s fork clattered to his plate as he pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a busy day ahead of me.” He downed the last of his coffee then turned and stalked from the room, taking his breakfast with him.

Robert watched him go without protest then dropped his elbows on the table and scrubbed his hands down his face with a frustrated groan. Well, that certainly could have gone better, he thought, as annoyed with his own impatience as he was with Freddy’s immaturity.

There were only six years between them, but some days it felt like sixty. Robert was born serious and responsible, where Freddy had always been carefree, even a bit wild, despite Robert’s efforts to guide him.

Their father died when Freddy was only twelve years old, and the loss hit him especially hard. He’d shared a close bond with their sire, closer even than Robert, the firstborn and heir, though he’d never resented their relationship. There was something about Freddy that inspired affection, something that made one want to dote on him, and the former viscount had, in spades.

Robert often wondered what life would be like if their father were still alive, if things would be different now. If Freddy would be different. He’d lost his way after their father’s death, and still hadn’t recovered it. Wasn’t even searching for it, so far as Robert could tell.

“Good morning, darling!”

Robert looked up from his coffee cup as Lady Darrington glided into the room, looking lovely—and well-rested—in a pale peach morning gown with matching turban.

“Good morning, Mother,” he said, sitting back in his chair with a tight smile. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Very well, thank you,” she said, settling into Freddy’s abandoned seat. “I just passed your brother in the hall. By the expression on his face—and yours, for that matter—I’m guessing you two boys had an argument?”

Robert gave a grim nod. All he and Freddy seemed to do was argue. “I asked him where he disappeared to last night. He admitted to leaving the ball early but made no apology for it.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

Lady Darrington pursed her lips. “He’s still a young man, Robert. He’s sowing his wild oats, like young men are wont to do.”

“I never did.”

“Ah, but you couldn’t,” she said, extending her forefinger. “Your duties did not permit it.”

Robert nodded. “True.”

The day he’d reached his majority, he was thrust into the role of Viscount Darrington. He spent the next several months settling into his new responsibilities, learning everything he needed to learn, terrified he would never be able to fill his father’s shoes.

There’d simply been no time for carousing.

“Perhaps you ought to consider taking a wife, Robert,” his mother said as she poured herself a cup of tea. “It might be good for Freddy to see you settling down with a family of your own. He might decide to follow suit.”

Robert sighed. “I doubt it. He doesn’t exactly idolize me.”