Free In My Wildest Fantasies by Julianne MacLean

actions in the past and my prolonged absence." He shook his head. "I have often thought it should have been you. You're the diplomat. While I have deserted my post, you have remained here in my stead and kept the machine running."
    "Not really, Devon. All I did was grease the wheels occasionally, when what we need is a new axle."
    Devon thought of the once beautiful Italian Gardens and the melancholy in his mother's eyes, and knew his brother was right on that point. Something had broken down here. There had been too many betrayals and tragedies. He felt no hope in these rooms. He felt no hope inside himself.
    "Shall we go back?" Blake asked, and Devon could not help but notice again that his brother seemed weary. It was no easy task, he supposed, keeping the peace in this family.
    "Yes, I want to see Vincent," he said. "Despite the wretched history between us, and the fact that he despises me, and quite rightly so, he is still my brother. We must at least look each other in the eye before we venture into a new decade of open hostilities."
    Lord Vincent, like his older brother, was a confident, skillful dancer. His shoulders were broad and his movements smooth. He was a handsome man and possessed a good deal of charm, but otherwise, Rebecca knew very little about him, except that he was the duke's second son, only one year younger than Devon, and that he spent most of his time in London away from Pembroke Palace.
    Oh, and she had once read in the society pages that he was an incorrigible scoundrel.
    "You must be pleased to have your brother back in England," she said, seeking to establish some polite discourse while they danced.
    "Yes, we are all overjoyed," he replied. "Father especially. Though sometimes I wonder if my brother should be forgiven at all for staying away as long as he did. How helpless we have all been, living our lives without him."
    Rebecca stiffened at Lord Vincent's obvious sarcasm, and almost missed a step. She did not know what to say.
    He smiled. "I've shocked you, Helen of Troy. Please accept my apologies. I will confess the truth. My brother and I have been at odds in the past, and shameful brother that I am, I have not yet welcomed him home. I did see him, though, from across the room, dancing with you. That was when I decided I had to dance with you as well."
    Rebecca frowned at him. "Your confession is hardly flattering, my lord. If you are at odds with your brother, what does that make me? The rope in your tug of war?"
    All at once, the fairy-tale palace of her Prince Charming seemed not such a perfect world after all. There appeared to be battle lines drawn in the house. But real life was always more complicated than fantasy, she had recently discovered.
    Lord Vincent smirked at her. "Why have we not met before?" he asked. "You're very lovely and very clever."
    "I rarely visit London," she replied. "My father has always preferred the country."
    "Pity for us Londoners," he said with a blase tone, looking over her head. "But may I be so bold as to ask, are you spoken for? Betrothed? In love?"
    She swallowed over her shock. "You are indeed bold, Lord Vincent."
    "Is that a yes or a no?"
    She was feeling rather aggravated by his blatant cheekiness. "No to everything."
    "Delighted to hear it."
    Not quite sure what had just happened, she somehow managed to make light conversation for the rest of the dance, and when it ended, they stepped apart and he offered her an arm to escort her off the floor.
    As the crowd cleared in front of them, dispersing in all directions, Rebecca spotted her aunt in the very place she had left her, but she was not alone. Beside her, watching attentively from the edge of the ballroom, was Lord Hawthorne.
    His strength and power seemed to fill the room--and to fill Rebecca simultaneously with the exhilarating notion that he had been watching her. Her intuition told her he'd been making sure his presumptuous younger brother was not overstepping those battle lines--whatever and