"I did." A muscle flexed in his chin. When Brand kept his gaze on him in askance, he turned away, asking instead. "All is well at sea?"
A pause. It was well, for him at least, and the country in extension.
"I suppose." He answered calmly, understanding the quiet missive. No more should be said on the topic. Alexander still was not agreeable to his wife's decision even though he had allowed it. Lady Gwen was stubborn to a fault which Brand praised highly, knowing her stubbornness exalted her greatly in his brother's heart.
But was this engagement not dangerous?
Cossington was a brute, yet no fool, still, if he caused the queen any distress, he would suffer the fate of Lord Farrington and his son without a moment's hesitation. What would happen if truly Alexander went down in history as the mad king, who for his queen, held no hesitation to command the death of people by his own hand?
He sighed. How had she discovered Alexander's banishment of Cossington from the castle grounds and from her path? And why was she dealing with him? To prove that her husband was wrong, or to prove that Cossington no more caused her distress? Brand shook his head. He didn't care. Let his brother become the king history feared, he would remain a wise and just king to him, one who loved his wife to madness.
Love was a disease. He reaffirmed to himself.
Then, "All is well on land?"
"It is, for now." Alexander replied, pausing. "Lady Denney has taken ill. She sent word that her physician has pronounced her not to live through the coming season."
"I see," he muttered. It was the matter of inheritance. "I recall that all she possesses now is set to pass to Lord Fitzgerald upon her death." He paused and stared gravely at Alexander. "Title and all."
"My decision remains unchanged," Alexander reassured, taking another sip. The light tension in the room calmed. "I do not need Denney's possessions. I am king." He scoffed. "Do you think I would take away the inheritance, and worse, from Guinevere's father?"
Shamefully, he had. Brand feared that perhaps in the heat of the moment and in his exploding anger, Alexander had made the declaration, and regretted it now. Denney's possessions were not as great, but Lord Denney had been a marquess until his execution, his possessions were not as light either. But he was wrong. No matter how much the king regretted his words, he would not undo them to hurt his wife. He loved her mightily.
Alexander stared and scoffed again. "You have become very daring." He took another light sip. "I wish for you to oversee the succession of titles and possessions when the time comes."
Brand raised an eyebrow. "You are asking me to make ready for our relative's death?"
"I am asking that you keep in remembrance that a letter might find you wherever you are, commanding your return to responsibilities on land." He relaxed into his seat. "Have a missive sent to the Westside Manor, informing the Fitzgeralds of these developments." Alexander added.
He took a pause, thoughtfully blinking both eyes. "Very well. I shall have Ramsay bring the missive to them."
"O'Neill? He travels to Ireland?"
Brand nodded. "His crewmembers are currently stationed there."
"Is he in any sort of trouble?"
"Not one so great. One of his vessels went to the bottom of the sea and his crew is remanded in Ireland."
"Did he suffer a great loss?"
"Not as much as is thought." No lives nor goods were lost. Only the ship it would seem.
Alexander exhaled calmly. "It is a goodness then."
They fell into a controlled silence, sipping their drinks. Brand stared into the glass of brandy, noticing Alexander's cautious drinking. Ages ago and the glass would have been replaced.
His brother had relied on the bottle the way other men relied on prayers, as though his troubles could be softened when he lost his head. One glass had never been enough, nor two. He cared not for it now.
A woman had ruined their father, alcohol had commanded his brother, while cigars, their dear friend. He had sworn never to mirror them. Never to require anything to keep him standing. He drank and smoked, but out of indulgence, never dependence.
"The Chinese sent a missive which, it seems," Brand murmured into the comfortable silence, taking yet another sip of his hot drink, keeping par with his brother. "I must not be privy to."
Alexander knocked twice on the armrest. "I do not care for their missives. My business with them is done. Do provide perfect understanding to them." He finished his brandy with a small sip, placing the glass back on the tray. "Now, retire to bed, for I must do the same."
He would send him away after bringing him almost forcefully to the castle? Brand refused to care. He was exhausted anyway.
"Thank you, but I would rather sleep in my own bed at Mainecroft Hall tonight," he said, consciously blinking both eyes. Then, "Your Majesty?" his brother's eyebrows rose in reply, "I shall not be proceeding to France as originally intended. Ramsay pleaded for my help and in accepting, I must travel to New York."
"America?" his brother asked as though tasting the word.
Brand nodded. "It is an urgent need from a friend, one that cannot be ignored."
A moment passed.
"Very well. Conclude the business of friendship in America and attend to your country's business in France. Do not wait too long."
"Certainly." In ancient times, he would have been accused of being a spy, dealing in purchase and sales while working for the king of his country. But it was not so. He was both a privateer and a prince, and he had to answer to the demands of both.
"When do you depart?"
"Two days hence." If he must secure the purchase of Ramsay and see to it that the company in France kept their word, then he must leave earlier than he had planned.
"Tarry a bit longer on land. A week perhaps."
He had intended so, but now must not. "I cannot. Business and duty, remember." Stephen would be very unhappy with his decision. The man had only recently married before their former voyage.
Alexander exhaled. "Will you be at breakfast tomorrow?"
Brand shook his head. "I should pay a courtesy visit to Whitmore House before my departure." For when he would return was not yet set in stone.
He caught the faint smile that landed on Alexander's cheeks. How was his brother glad that he should visit a woman he hated? The very same who had stolen his father's love? And caused the former queen her life? Who had once coveted a throne that was not hers, and almost took his life?
"Very well. Godspeed. We have seen you, and you look in good shape. That is sufficient." His gaze went higher and he added, "Though your hair remains of questionable length."
Beside himself, Brand chuckled. Running one hand through the long mass, he raised his eyes, and pulled his lips to a corner, imitating his brother for the sake of riling. "It has been that way for many a year now."
"You move to annoy. I shall not grant you victory." Laughter exploded from both of them. Alexander rose to his feet. "About the orphanage in Lanhandron. Perhaps it is time we let the foundation house cater to their needs."
"I shall see to it."
"Good night then, brother."
Brand stood to his full length, and bowed perfectly. "Good night, Your Majesty."
He watched Alexander walk away, fully aware he was headed to the queen. The king could never be apart from his wife for long, and the thought brought a disdainful smile to the corner of his mouth.
Alexander loved Lady Gwen, and as much as he loved her, she loved him too, of which Brand was irritated and grateful. His brother had finally found the very one who completed him. Now he could spend months at sea without worrying about the great castle and the loneliness it brought, or when next he would receive letters commanding his return to Mainecroft Castle as the latter would have missed a better company than those offered by the arrogant courtiers.
It was a perfection. Alexander had found the right woman in Lady Gwen—a woman who matched his every whim, one who could and would entertain his excessiveness.
He collapsed back into his seat, and let his gaze roam about the room, coming to realise a simple change. The king's large portrait by the door had been replaced by another: a painting of him and the queen seated side by side on their thrones. Strangely, his chest warmed at the sight. How long he had waited for that single portrait to be replaced. It was, indeed, a vision of perfection. All was well now.
It was all perfection now.
A knock.
"Your Highness, shall I have the maids prepare your bath?" Edmund leaned into the room, interrupting his thoughts.
He turned to the kingsman who remained at the door. "It is of no consequence, I am returning to Mainecroft Hall tonight. Check with my driver, I did ask him to remain with the carriage."
"Yes, Your Highness." The man bowed and left.
With a final glance at the new portrait, Brand emptied the last content of his glass and left the room, walking with a particular swagger for the main doors. As he walked, a great doubt settled in his heart. Would there ever come a day when his solitary life would begin to weary him? He thought not.