Chapter 2

T he youngest of three brothers, Aaron knew when the eldest sent a cryptic note, it really meant, 'Get your arse here now.'

That is how he came to find himself at Greystoke Manor. Not much had changed regarding his bossy brother, but much had changed at the manor.

He handed his gloves and cloak to Nathaniel's butler. New to the manor, but seemingly loyal. Aaron had a good sense of judgement. The butler could hold his own.

Nathaniel had surprised them all, returning home and deciding to restore the house where they'd all grown up. Aaron had thought his brother would, at the very least, sell the family property. After all, Nathaniel had threatened to burn the place down a number of times. But to everyone's dismay, he not only refurbished the old mansion, he actually lived there now. With his new wife, Serena. A lovely woman. A mystery solved. Nonetheless, Nathaniel had been up to the challenge, and they were expecting their first child.

Aaron glanced to the wide staircase where generations of Greystoke portraits hung along the wall. Good God. Even his father's portrait hung there. He would have thought surely his brother would have torched that one. But, it seemed, as much as Nathaniel hated the man, he'd hung their father's portrait among the rest. Aaron gave a shrug of his shoulders.

As he strode down the long corridor to the main study, his boots echoed off the tall walls. Eerie. The sound reminded him too much of times past. When he'd hid from his father, hearing his father's footfalls echoing along the hall. He held off a shudder and marched forward. The door to the study was partially open.

He marched in. "Hello, brother. I received your summons. What has made you so anxious to desire my company?"

Nathaniel sat behind his big desk staring at a paper he held in his hand. Slowly, his gaze drifted upward and his hard eyes locked with Aaron's. Yep. He'd guessed right. This would not be a pleasant visit.

"I summoned you here because I hold a contract in my hand."

Well, all right. Clearly, Nathaniel did not like that Aaron had used the term summon. Still, how the bloody hell had Nathaniel gotten his hands on Aaron's contract?

"I would think, brother dear, that contract you hold is personal. It is my business. Not yours."

"Then why was it sent to me?"

"I have no idea," he said as he stepped to the sideboard. He took the crystal topper from the decanter and poured a generous amount of brandy into a glass. Looked like he might need it. When he turned back around, Nathaniel's eyes were dark with anger.

"Would you care to explain this?"

Aaron took a gulp from the much-needed courage swishing about in his glass, then made his way to the chair in front of Nathaniel's desk. Another reminder he would like to forget. This measured much too closely to when his father had given him a dressing down. At least Nathaniel had burned their father's hateful desk.

"Nathaniel, I do not understand your anger."

That jaw of his tightened and Aaron recognized Nathaniel's temper was about to blow.

"I did give you some warning," Aaron blurted in his own defense.

"When!"

"I mentioned to you that I was interested in ships. You asked me why I stayed here and waited for you instead of getting on with my life. You knew I took a trip to Brighton. I saw no need to tell you what I had planned. At least not until it came to completion."

His brother glanced at the paper in his hand, and then back to Aaron. "And this is what you planned?"

Why was Nathaniel so angry? He'd told Aaron not so long ago, that he should follow his own dream.

"Well, yes," Aaron answered with confusion. "The Anderson Shipping Line is in Brighton. Actually, Hardcastle contacted me."

"Hardcastle. Who is Hardcastle?"

"He runs the business on this side of the pond for Anderson. I met Mister Anderson. A likeable fellow, by the by. And what you have in your hand is the result. I still don't understand why you have a copy of my contract. And why are you so bloody angry? I hoped you might be happy for me."

Several emotions crossed Nathaniel's face, as each red shade of his skin grew darker. "I cannot believe you are making light of this. As for how I got this contract, it was addressed to the Lord of Greystoke Manor. Apparently, this man thinks I am you. Rather, you are me."

"What?"

"This," Nathaniel glanced to the paper again. "Hayes. Mister Hayes is demanding you make this right. Demanding Lord Greystoke honor his promise."

"Who the devil is Hayes?"

"The man whose name is on this contract." Nathaniel laid the document down and pressed his finger to mark a spot.

Aaron shrugged. "I don't remember him."

"You admit you signed this contract?"

Aaron didn't need to look at it. "I am of legal age. I have a mind of my own. Of course. Why would I deny it?"

"Do you also admit you ran off and left the girl?"

With the glass half way to his lips, Aaron paused. "What girl?"

Nathaniel shook his hand in rage, the crisp paper making a crackling sound with every swoosh . "Your bride!"

What the bleedin' hell had gotten into his brother? "Uh, Nathaniel. I think you better calm down. Obviously, you have been at your books too long. You're not thinking straight."

Nathaniel lunged from his chair so fast, Aaron instinctively shrank back. But he quickly regained his metal.

"Now hold on!" Aaron jumped to his feet, eyeing his brother, the desk separating them. "I'm not a little boy anymore."

"You're not a man either, if you give your word and do not honor it."

Aaron's blood boiled. "Father may have been an evil bastard, but he did one thing right. He instilled our duty into each of us. You have no call to question my honor."

Again, Nathaniel shook the paper in his hand. Violently. Then he tossed it onto the desk. "Christ, Aaron," Nathaniel shouted while shoving both hands through his hair.

His brother may have scared him long ago, but now Aaron stood just as tall. He looked Nathaniel in the eye. "What are you getting so worked up over. It cannot be because I signed a contract with Anderson Shipping."

"Anderson—" Nathaniel stumbled to a halt, grabbed the parchment and all but tossed it at Aaron. "Here, brother. Is this the contract you signed?"

Some bee had stung Nathaniel's backside. There was no other explanation. Aaron picked up the paper he assumed was the contract and began reading— Bloody hell .

"Well?"

Aaron looked to his brother, and had difficulty finding his voice.

"Is that the contract you were bleating about?" Nathaniel shouted.

"This is a marriage contract?" Aaron managed to squeak.

"That is your signature, is it not?"

Aaron quickly scanned the document to the bottom, the words blurring into nothing. Then he saw it. A signature.

His signature!

He glanced to the top again. Shock stiffened his body. "Good God. This cannot be."

"Is that your signature?"

"It sure looks like mine."

"Did you sign that?"

"Hell, no!" He studied the signature, and the bottom fell out of his stomach. Damn, it looked like his.

"Sit down before you pass out." Nathaniel came around the desk and pushed on Aaron's shoulder. He fell into the seat he'd just lurched out of.

What the bloody hell?

"Do you know this man?"

"Who?" Aaron asked automatically, not thinking clearly.

"Hayes? His signature is next to yours."

All Aaron could do was shake his head. "No. I don't know him."

"Then how do you explain your signature, Aaron?"

"Christ," he raked a hand over his face. "I don't know."

"Hayes lives in Brighton. What did you do down there other than go to the shipping yard?"

Aaron thought back. He went to a tavern. Had a mug of ale. Met a man. "Went home with that man."

"What man?"

Good God. Had he said that out loud? "I met a man that had too much to drink. He kept rambling on about his daughter. But she was a child."

Suddenly a flash of an image lit up his skull, along with a sharp pain. A woman. With sensual eyes. And luscious lips. He shook his head. That was just a dream.

"You went home with this man? Then what?"

Aaron felt like a fool. He didn't know what? Now he had to explain to his brother he blacked out from drinking. Something of which he had never done. He'd seen too many others drown in their cups, gamble their wages, lose every penny they had. Some even lost their homes because they became dependent on vices. Aaron was proud that he'd never had the desire to lose his sense.

"Aaron?"

What? Oh yes. He went home with the bloke he'd met at the tavern. "Yes. I did."

"Then what?"

"Wait a minute. Let me read this." The air was beginning to circulate in the room again. He took a deep breath, and read the contract he had no memory of signing.

"I am not married. Nor did I promise to marry anyone. Bollocks, Nathaniel. I don't even remember—"

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "You don't remember?"

Aaron glanced to his brother, again. "The man drank me under the table. He was drunk at the tavern. At least I thought he was. He needed help getting home. Then he wanted to drink some more. He was crying, Nathaniel. I felt sorry for him."

"Why would you feel sorry for a drunkard. You said you don't remember."

Aaron shook his head. He struggled with the events of that night. "I guess the ale was stronger than I thought. Or I drank too much. I blacked out."

Nathaniel's brows rose up to his hair line. "You? You drank too much. Since when?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't remember drinking all that much, but I did black out." Again, the vision of a beautiful woman, curves filling his hands, flashed before his eyes. Just when he thought he could see her face, the image disappeared.

Bloody hell.

"Have you suddenly started drinking to the point you black out?"

"No. I mean..." He massaged the back of his neck. No matter how hard he rubbed, the image would not reappear. "Damn it, Nathaniel. I don't know!"

Nathaniel walked around to the front of his desk. "All right, calm down."

Imagine. Nathaniel having to calm him down. Usually, their roles were reversed. Nathaniel had one hell of a temper.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Aaron tried to recall his actions. "The man crying. Slumped over his cup. I remember my cup moving—all by itself. Then … nothing."

"Do you think that is when you signed this contract?"

"Bollocks, Nathaniel. I would not—did not sign that bloody contract!"

"What about the girl you mentioned? Did you see her? Or anyone else in the house?"

"No," he said shaking his head. "No one."

Nathaniel got up, and marched back behind his desk. "If this is your signature, Aaron, this document is binding."

"I have no idea who this man is, let alone that he even has a daughter."

What was the man's name? Colvin. That's it.

"What's the name on that contract?"

Nathaniel picked up the paper and read. "Colvin Hayes."

"Yes. That's him. He'd left his daughter at home by herself. He spoke of her as a child." Even the barkeep spoke of the girl that way. Evidently, Colvin left her alone, often. "I remember wondering why the man would leave a child alone … but what if the girl was a woman?"

Good God.

Aaron shuddered. It didn't make a damn. He was not going to marry her. "I didn't even bed the chit," he blurted.

"Let's hope not. I seriously doubt you would have been able to in your condition. However, according to this document, she is your betrothed, whether you like it or not."

"Not," he grumbled. How the hell was he to get out of this mess?

Suddenly a thought hit him. "Hayes sent that contract to you. To Lord Greystoke. He thinks I am the Greystoke heir. Simply inform him, you are the heir. He will not want a third son with no wealth."

"You have wealth."

"He doesn't need to know that."

"Mayhap if you reined in your habit of tossing coin about, he would not have gotten that idea."

"I am frugal, Nathaniel. I was not foolishly spending, nor into my cups. I simply helped a man I thought needed help."

"And got caught with your pants down."

Nathaniel may have been using a euphemism, but Aaron had the uncanny feeling he had been naked. Christ, he wished he could remember. Was it truly a dream?

Of course, it was a bloody dream.

"I do not remember a girl. Or a woman."

"You'd better. I doubt he pulled a stranger out of his hat. Whoever this woman is, she is your betrothed."

Aaron shot out of his chair. "Nathaniel. You are already married, so you can't marry her. Just tell the man he has made a mistake."

"Lord or no, heir or no, this is a contract, Aaron. With your signature. You must remember some part of this?"

Aaron glanced to the hated paper that would end his life as he knew it. How could he deny the bold script was not his own? "It is mine. I don't remember much. I've never been drunk out of my mind. Certainly not to the point I passed out."

He was sunk. His goose was thoroughly cooked. "Nathaniel, can't you fix this?"

"What do you think Aunt will have to say?"

"For God's sake, do not tell Aunt of this nonsense."

Nathaniel waved the document like a bloody flag. "It does not appear to be nonsense."

"I tell you someone is fabricating this story. Why in bloody hell would I sign a contract? With anyone!" he bellowed. "I am too young to be leg-shackled."

"It's not so bad, Aaron."

He jerked his gaze to Nathaniel and saw his cocky grin. How could his brother joke when Aaron's life was being threatened. "Oh sure. You're one of the lucky bastards. Serena is not fake. She's as far from a dull-headed, social butterfly as a woman can be."

"I hope you did not just insult my wife."

"What? Of course not."

"And what of Joyanna?"

Joyanna was a blue-blood. So, Edmund also had a horseshoe up his bloody arse.

"I don't know this woman. I've never met her. No lite-skirt is going to swindle me. Nor is writing to my brother, claiming a contract that never happened, going to blackmail me."

"Aaron. How do you explain your signature?"

"Christ." Aaron dropped into a chair. "I have no idea."

He'd been having the best day of his life. His own correspondence from Anderson Shipping had arrived, so he was ready to celebrate. If he could not fix this, his life as he knew it would be over.

Devil take it.

"You could use a wife to tame your wild ways."

"Bloody hell." Aaron paced to a window, not even looking out. Suddenly he whirled about. "How old were you when you married? If not for the title, you would still be a single man. Admit it."

"We are not discussing me."

Aaron hung his head, cursing his brother under his breath. "You've grown old since taking your marriage vows."

"You will honor this contract, Aaron."

"No, I will not!"

Nathaniel glowered at him. They were nearly the same height; Nathaniel was definitely more threatening. But this was Aaron's life.

"I will go see this Mr. Hayes. He will give the truth, or by God, suffer the consequences."

"And what of the woman?"

"What about her?"

Nathaniel hiked his brow, glaring. Aaron was older now. He refused to be intimidated by his older brother.

"Hell fire, Nathanial. You cannot believe she exists." Nathaniel opened his mouth, but Aaron hurried on. "Even if she does, I will expose her father for the rotter he is. And if she is a part of his scheme, then she will suffer my wrath as well."

"Be careful. The daughter could be an innocent."

"Not if she is agreeing to this fraud."

"I'm sorry to point out that you recognized your own signature."

"Aaron slammed his fist into his opposite hand. "I can't explain it."

"Exactly my point. Until you can, you must tread carefully. You cannot go breathing fire and brimstone without knowing the facts."

"I know I did not sign that document."

"Facts, Aaron."

"Don't patronize me, brother. We were raised by the same father. I understand decorum, and I know how to take care of myself."

"Calm down. We will know soon enough. I have already sent for her."