Bedding The Baron Read Free Page A

commonplace, something to be seen out the window of a hundred homes in London.
    But this view would always be special, Fredrick acknowledged as a fresh wave of pain rolled through him. It was special because this was home.
    “If Dunnington were still alive we would not rest until we had forced him to tell us the truth of what secrets he learned of our fathers.”
    “Bloody right.” Ian refilled his glass with brandy. “We have the right to know what nasty sins our fathers have been committing.”
    “Perhaps we have the right, but maybe not the will,” Raoul said softly. “Is that what you are implying, Fredrick?”
    “Yes.”
    Ian gave a loud snort. “In English, please.”
    Raoul absently reached to pluck the brandy from Ian’s hand. The actor had just celebrated his thirtieth birthday, which made him a year older than Ian and two years older than Fredrick. He took his role of the elder brother quite seriously.
    “Dunnington would realize that we would have instinctively demanded that he tell us the sordid secrets that he kept. Curiosity is human nature, after all. But he might have felt that the past was better left undisturbed.”
    “If he felt that way, then why reveal where the money came from to begin with?” Fredrick muttered. “There was no need to reveal that our fathers were ever involved.”
    Raoul heaved a deep sigh. “Because it gave us the option of deciding whether we desired the truth badly enough to go in search of it.”
    “Yes.” Fredrick shoved his fingers through his hair. Gads, but he was tired. He had been in Portsmouth when he had received word of Dunnington’s death, and he had traveled without halt to arrive in time for the funeral. Since then he had been overwhelmed with one endless task after another. When this was all said and done he intended to reacquaint himself with his very large, very comfortable bed. “It is one thing to simply be told of the past, and quite another to have to go to the effort of returning to our families and seeking it.”
    “Dunnington has ensured that the truth comes with a price,” Raoul whispered softly.
    Ian firmly took back his glass of brandy and downed it in one swallow. “What you are saying is that he has left us holding Pandora’s Box.”
    Pandora’s Box. Yes, that was a perfect description, Fredrick acknowledged.
    The sensible choice would, of course, be to keep the lid firmly closed. After all, none of them had any true relationship with their fathers. And certainly whatever secrets their fathers might be harboring could have nothing to do with them.
    More importantly, they had each forged lives that gave them satisfaction in their own way. Only a fool would risk such fragile peace to stir up the past.
    A silence descended that was broken only by the crackle of the burning logs as the three gentlemen became lost in their own thoughts. At last Raoul gave a sharp shake of his head.
    “It would appear that if we had any sense at all we would take our money, invest it wisely, and forget where it came from.”
    Ian gave a short laugh. “And when have we ever been wise?”
    Fredrick had to admit his friend did have a point. Raoul devoted his life to playing roles upon the stage. Ian lived by the fickle fate of Lady Luck. And even Fredrick took enormous risks with each new patent he invested in.
    “I do not suppose it is possible for any of us to know that there is some secret out there and not try to get to the bottom of it,” Fredrick admitted with a resigned sigh. “It is like having a splinter stuck in your finger that you try to ignore. Eventually you have to pluck it out or it becomes infected.”
    “An unpleasant, if apt description.” Raoul gave a short, bitter laugh. “ Mon Dieu, we are idiots.”
    “And it would seem that Dunnington has at last had his final revenge for all those frogs we hid in his bed,” Fredrick said wryly.
    Ian held up his empty glass. “To Dunnington, damn his soul.”
    Fredrick and Raoul exchanged a