“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
He looked over at me. “Of course.”
In the past, I might not have pressed, but we were much more comfortable together now than we had been in the early days of our marriage. I had learned that it was possible to get behind that impassive façade of his.
“Surely you must have some thoughts about all of this.”
“Certainly I do, but I’m afraid they’re not for your delicate ears, my love.” There was an edge in his voice now, the irritation he felt at all of this coming to the surface.
Milo very much liked to be in command of things, was accustomed to matters bowing to his will and his money, and this situation was something entirely beyond his control. A brother was not going to dematerialize no matter what one thought about him.
“I know it’s quite a surprise,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean it need be unpleasant.”
“I have a bastard brother who’s used my name to convince a woman to marry him. You don’t think that’s a bit of a problem?”
I sighed. “Of course. Did you speak to him about Imogen?”
“I did. He claims they were never married.”
“He denies it?” I was trying to keep my temper down. Milo had enough to process at the moment without my adding fuel to the fire.
“He said he only discovered upon his mother’s death, a year ago, that I existed. Since then he has been meaning to come and introduce himself, following our movements in the society columns, apparently. In the meantime, however, he began a romance with Imogen. He didn’t mean it to be long-lasting and decided on a whim to use my name instead of his own.”
“He didn’t mean it to be long-lasting, but he meant for her to think they were wed?” I repeated, incredulous. “Does he realize that the marriage is likely legally binding? If he signed the marriage certificate, they are wed no matter what name he used.”
“It would come down to a question of fraud for an annulment, I suppose,” Milo said. “But he claims there was no ceremony, only that they stood on the beach and declared their love for each other.” His tone let me know what he thought of this display of sentiment. I felt another pang of sympathy for Imogen.
“She said they were married,” I pressed.
He shrugged. “Perhaps she said that because she was desperate to find him. There’s little doubt they consummated their relationship. If she did so on the assumption that they would soon be married, it must have come as an unpleasant surprise to discover that he had gone missing.”
“Whatever the case, he has treated her abominably,” I said with feeling.
“Certainly,” Milo agreed.
I rubbed a hand across my face. “What a dreadful mess.”
There was a moment of silence, both of us lost in thought, and then I voiced my next question. “What brought him here? Did he ask you for money?”
Milo looked at me. “No. I offered it to him, in fact, and he laughed in my face. He said he didn’t come here for money, that he merely wanted to make his … existence known to me.”
This surprised me. I didn’t know Darien, of course, but, from his actions thus far, he had struck me as the sort of man who was out to get what he could from life, with little regard for the consequences. I would have thought he might have taken Milo’s money gladly. What surprised me even more was that Milo had offered it.
“I didn’t suppose you’d give money to him,” I said.
“It’s not his fault my father abandoned his family. He deserves something for that.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
His expression darkened. “Generosity was not my aim, but the offer was substantial enough. I wonder that he refused it.”
I knew it was typical of Milo to turn to his wealth for answers. Money had solved a great deal of the problems in his life, and he was suspicious of things that didn’t bend to its influence.
Truth be told, however, I agreed with him. Darien’s refusal to take money didn’t make me feel as though he was trustworthy. Quite the contrary. If he wouldn’t take what Milo had offered him up front, I wondered if there was something else that he was playing at. There were too many facets to this puzzle. Something was going on that we weren’t yet aware of.
“Where is he staying?”
“At the inn, I suppose. I certainly didn’t invite him to stay here.”
“Imogen is at the inn,” I said, rising from my chair. “I should go and see her. I think it best that someone break the news to her before she sees Darien there and assumes that they’re going to have a happy reunion.”
“That’s not your worry, darling,” he said.
“I know, but I feel sorry for her. Under other circumstances, she might have been my sister-in-law.”
Milo swore under his breath.
I went to him and put my hands on his chest, looking up at him. “It’s all going to be all right, you know.”
He offered me a smile, one hand moving to cup my face. “Yes, of course.”
He leaned to brush a kiss across my lips and then he left, no doubt to place a telephone call to our solicitor’s office.
A moment later Winnelda came hurrying into the drawing room.
“Oh, madam,” she said breathlessly. “That young man … Who … who was he?”
“He’s Mr. Ames’s brother,” I said. There was no reason to keep it a secret. Everyone was going to know about it soon enough.
“I didn’t know Mr. Ames had a brother.”
“Yes, Mr. Ames didn’t know it either.”
“He … smiled at me as he left. I think he even winked! Very improper, of course. But he’s ever so good looking, isn’t he?”
I felt an immediate tinge of alarm. If Darien was going to be a frequent visitor, I was going to make sure he stayed away from Winnelda. It would prove most inconvenient for all of us if he was to trifle with her. What he had done to Imogen made it abundantly clear he was not to be trusted.
“He’s very good looking,” I agreed. “But I think you had better steer clear of him. He … he isn’t exactly…”
I hesitated, trying to think of how best to warn her without making Darien seem too appealing. Winnelda had always had romantic notions, and I didn’t want to increase his allure by casting him as the prodigal son.
“Oh, I know just what you mean, madam. It’s never wise to get involved with a gentleman that handsome.” She paused. “That is, it’s different for you and Mr. Ames. You know how to handle him. That is…”
She seemed to feel that she was digging herself deeper and deeper and decided that it was best to change the subject.
“Well, as I said, he’s very improper. And I don’t approve of that sort of thing.”
“No,” I agreed. “His behavior thus far hasn’t been that of a gentleman.”
“Perhaps he will behave better now that he’s come home,” she suggested.
Come home. Things weren’t going to be that simple.
I sighed; this was all much more excitement than I had bargained for.
* * *
NOT HALF AN hour later, our car pulled up before the Primrose Inn. I asked Markham, our driver, to wait for me as I made my way inside. It was a fairly standard place as far as village inns went, a small but tidy lobby with a worn rug and furniture that had seen better days.