Edmund pressed his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest, trying to keep the churning darkness in his breast from bursting through his bones. He observed the glistening sweat on Quincy’s pale brow, his constricted pupils. The pup looked like a wraith, an echo of his former self. The ghastly image of him gripped and squeezed Edmund’s heart in a way he had never experienced, not even when he was a pirate aboard the Bonny Meg in the heat of battle.

James grabbed Quincy’s arm in a rough manner. “Get up.”

Dumped into a chair, Quincy slowly raised his head and gazed at Edmund with a sorrowful expression. The regret in his eyes was veiled, though, a hazy mist there, too. He looked as if he was trapped in a waking dream, mindful of his surroundings yet unsure if they were real.

James moved across the room and rent the cravat at his throat. “Why haven’t you put a stop to his obsession, Will?”

William bristled. “What would you have me do? Lock him away in Bedlam?”

“Can’t you lock him in his room?”

William rounded the desk and placed his knuckles on the table’s surface. “He isn’t a babe, James. I can’t follow him around all day. I have other duties, don’t you know? And why didn’t you put a stop to his obsession while you were still living here?”

“I didn’t know it was an obsession then.”

It had started out as harmless, fashionable fun, thought Edmund, but it’d soon escalated into a more serious condition, alarming all the brothers with its crippling effects upon the pup.

“Well, I’m not a physician,” from William. “I can’t cure his ills.”

James snorted. “I’ll break his legs then.”

William said in an even manner, “And what purpose will that serve?”

“It’ll prevent him from visiting the opium dens.”

“I’d rather you not break my legs,” chimed Quincy in a drowsy fashion, his shoulders slumped.

James said darkly, “Then stop chasing the dragon.”

Quincy quieted.

James humphed and paused beside the fireplace. He spread his arms apart and gripped the mantel-piece. Lowering his weight on the marble fitting, he dropped his head. “I’ll move back into the town house.”

William scoffed. “I’m sure your wife will appreciate that.”

“Sophia won’t mind under the circumstances,” he returned with confidence. “I know the woman.”

“And the scandal that’ll result from you moving back in here?” William settled into the leather seat at the head of the writing desk. “What will society think to learn that Captain James Hawkins returned to his bachelor lodgings after only six months of marriage?”

“To hell with the scandal!” James faced his brother, his features flushed. “Do you think I give a bloody damn about what the people of Town think of me?”

“No, but I think you give a bloody damn about what they think of your wife.” William eyed him in a sharp manner. “Do you want them to gossip about Sophia? Whisper tales that she cannot keep her husband content?”

James fisted his palms and looked around the room as if he was trapped in an iron brig. “One of us has to look after him.”

“I can look after him,” said Edmund.

The rain slowly pattered against the window, the thunder grumbled as James and William stared at him, confounded. It was as if the pair hadn’t noticed him standing in the room.

William frowned. “You?”

“Yes, me,” he said, ignoring the affront.

“No.” James was curt. “You’re not responsible.”

Edmund snapped, “And Quincy’s flourished under your care?”

“Are you going to claim superior judgment?” James stepped toward him with a look of warning in his eyes. “How dare you after your reckless behavior in the garden tonight?”

William sighed and rubbed his brow. “What did he do?”

“He made love to his ward.”

A sluggish Quincy chuckled. “Lucky Eddie.”

“I didn’t make love to her.” Edmund glowered at James. “It was one kiss.”

James pointed a finger at him. “I’m not going to let you disgrace this family and ruin Belle.”

The heat in Edmund’s belly swelled until it singed his ears. “I would never do such a thing.”

“You lied to me.” The man’s nostrils flared and his eyes darkened even more. “You told me you wanted to turn the wench into a lady, that she had saved your life and you owed her the favor. I believed you, fool that I am.”

Edmund gritted, “It’s the truth.”

“Don’t sham me again!” He removed his coat. “You’ve brought your bloody mistress to live under your roof, admit it.”

“It’s my roof, is it?”

The growing friction between the brothers compelled William to vacate his chair. He approached the scowling men with raised hands. “Let’s all keep our heads, shall we?”

James took in a ragged breath and backed away, though his eyes still glowed with resentment. “Put her up in another house or apartment.”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Too bad,” Quincy quipped.

William offered him a hard look. “We’re not finished with you yet.”

“I figured that.” He shrugged. “But it’s good to know I’m not the only wastrel in the family.”

“I’m not a wastrel,” Edmund contested. “I really do owe Amy my life, and I intend to see her properly settled.”

James circled the room like a penned bull, snarling, but he soon stilled. “Fine. If you want to see the wench settled, then you won’t resist if Sophia and I take her with us to Mayfair.”

“What?” he rasped.

“Sophia and I discussed it in the garden tonight,” he said, eyes alight. “If you want to see Amy a lady, she should live with us, so Sophia and I can serve as proper chaperones.”

“You want to make Amy a lady?”

“I don’t give a bloody damn about the wench.” He rolled up his sleeves. “But if she saved your life, then I’ll see the debt paid.”

“No.”

It raised Edmund’s hackles, the very thought of passing Amy off to his kin. It was his duty to look after her. It was his responsibility to find her a new means of livelihood. He had uprooted her from her home and occupation as a dancer, and he wasn’t going to hand her over to his autocratic brother, to give in to the suggestion that he wasn’t sensible enough to take care of the lass himself.

“It’s my responsibility to look after her,” he said stiffly.

“It’s too dangerous for her to be here.” James folded his arms across his chest. “If anyone discovers she’s staying here, she’ll be ruined.”

Edmund moved away from the door in brisk strides, as if his feet treaded across hot coals. “No one will find out Amy is staying here. No one comes to the house, not our house.”

The brothers were an oddity. With their sister a respected duchess, the ton offered the mariners a small measure of courtesy. Polite without being friendly. Inclusive without being intimate. Invitations to balls and parties and dinners made their way to the town house, and the brothers attended most of the gatherings in order to protect their sister’s good name. If they refused the posh invites, their uncouth behavior would reflect poorly upon her…but it was all a delicate, insincere dance. The haute monde wasn’t interested in befriending the Hawkins brothers. The haute monde was interested in drawing the brothers out of their gilded cage, gawking at them, gossiping about them behind their backs.

“And the servants?” said James.

“Who? The butler?” Edmund scoffed. “He’s too loyal to breathe a word about Amy to the rest of the staff. Cook stays in the kitchen. The maids come twice a week to clean, and I can keep Amy away from the house while they’re here.”

“You see.” James set his eyes on Edmund. “You are keeping your mistress in the house. Otherwise you wouldn’t resist my prudent proposal.”

To hell with the man’s so-called prudent proposal! The overbearing captain took control of every situation. There was no hope for compromise in his tyrannical world. If Edmund voiced a singular opinion, he was charged with disloyalty or irresponsibility or some other rot.

In the past, Edmund had simply let James rule over his life with an iron fist. Why resist him? Edmund had had no passion worth fighting for…but now he had Amy. She was depending on him. She was looking to him for a chance at a better life, and he’d brawl with James first before he’d let the despot take her away.

“James is right,” said William.

“Of course he’s right,” Edmund retorted. “He’s always right, isn’t he? And you always take his side.”

William stared at him with a measure of ire that Edmund didn’t often see coming from his unflappable, levelheaded brother. That William possessed a fiery streak was an intriguing idea yet a highly unlikely one. The man wasn’t the sort to stir up trouble or make contradictions. He had always supported James as the lieutenant, and thus second in command, of the Bonny Meg. And now that he was his own master, he still looked to James for guidance. He had only ever gone against “Black Hawk’s” wishes once: when he had joined the Royal Navy as a privateer.

Edmund remembered the stormy row, the tempestuous atmosphere when the brothers had announced their wish to sail under the Union Jack. The contention had almost rent apart their brotherhood, for James loathed the Royal Navy for pressing their father into service many years ago. He had eventually resigned himself to their choice of occupation. He had even attended the ship’s christening ceremony before their maiden voyage. For a short time, the man had relinquished control. But now he’d reclaimed his authority. And he was holding on to it with a vicious grip.

“We’re going to set sail in a fortnight.” William placed his hands on his hips. “What will you do with Amy then? Or do you intend to walk away from your naval duties?”

Edmund stepped beside the window and peered through the drapery, the glass, gazing into the murky street as the rain showered with greater vim. “I’ll see her settled before we leave.”

“You’re going to make her a lady in two weeks?”

The disbelief in James’s derisive voice made Edmund’s muscles taut, set his spine erect. He balled his fists, breathing sharply through his nose. If either man pushed him one bit more…

However, Edmund wasn’t worried about transforming Amy into a lady within a fortnight. The woman was already prim and proper in so many ways, the effect of her tutelage under Madame Rafaramanjaka. He would see the lass placed in a proper position soon.

“I’ve already lost Quincy.” William gestured toward the lethargic pup. “Will I lose you, too?”

“You’ve not lost me, Will,” Quincy protested weakly, his breathing slow and shallow.

William offered him a look of sympathy. “I can’t take you with me aboard the Nemesis in your condition.”

“I’ll take Quincy home with me,” said James. “I’ll take them both home.”

“No!” Edmund slammed his fist into the wall, pain shooting through his arm. “I can look after Quincy. And damn it, I’m protecting Amy!”

James eyed him with that familiar, piercing look. “From whom?”

From a mad queen. From a gang of assailants who want to capture her alter ego, Zarsitti. The truth sounded too fanciful, though, so he remained silent about the matter.

“It’s not important.” Edmund headed for the door. “But I’ve promised to guard Amy, and I’ll see to my word.”

“I can finish teaching her to be a proper lady,” offered Quincy.

“First you need to learn to be a proper gentleman.” James stalked across the room and grabbed Quincy by the shirt. “Get up.”

“What are you going to do with him?” demanded William, alarmed.

“Take him to bed so he can sleep it off.” He looked at his brother. “Did you think I was going to bludgeon him?”

“I’ll take him to bed,” offered Edmund.

He moved away from the door and took his brother’s arm, but James refused to let go of Quincy’s rumpled garment.

Edmund glared at the former pirate captain and tugged at Quincy’s sleeve. “I’ll take him to his room, James.”

The men struggled over a drowsy Quincy for a moment before William stepped between them and placed his hand on James’s chest.

“Let him go, James.”

James glared at William with an immovable expression before he reluctantly released the crumpled fabric of Quincy’s shirt.

Edmund placed his ill-looking brother’s arm around his shoulder and steered him toward the door. They departed from the room, the tense atmosphere, leaving the older brothers bickering in the study once more.

“I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?” said Quincy, wheezing.

Edmund guided him through the passageway, his features grim. “You’ve made a mess of yourself.”

“But you and James are quarreling.”

“We’ve been quarreling for a long time, Quincy. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why are you so angry with him?”

As Edmund mounted the steps with his brother, he frowned. “Because James is a bloody despot.”

Quincy staggered. “I don’t remember it bothering you so much in the past.”

“Well, it bothers me now,” he said stiffly.