Page 103 of Ethan & Grace

“Oh my God,” she repeated, pressing a hand to her stomach as if the very idea of me and Grace together made her sick. “When Alistair speculated a few weeks ago that Miss Claymore might be one of your female visitors, I laughed at him, but it seems he was right. You will end this at once. It’s bad enough that Henry is dragging our family’s name through the mud.”

I was glad my brother wasn’t here to hear her words. He would have hit the roof, treating the Asterdams’ guests to a full-blown family drama. “I’m not ending things with Grace,” I said, sounding far calmer than I felt.

“What will people think?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

“Ethan, please!” my mum begged.

“This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this. Enjoy your evening.” Before she had the chance to respond, I walked away.

Normally, I wasn’t so hard on her, because I knew what she was going through. Besides, she had protected me from my dad when I couldn’t do it myself. But I was already on edge thanks to Grace’s investigation, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to fight this battle now.

I continued heading for the bar. It looked like I wasn’t the only Darlington to have retreated there: Henry was perched on a stool, absentmindedly swirling a glass of whisky. His dark hair wasn’t quite as perfectly styled as it had been at the start of the evening.

“Did Kate ditch you?” I asked, taking the free seat beside him.

“In a manner of speaking. She excused herself after the third conversation about investments to go spend the rest of the evening with Olivia,” my brother replied, glancing towards his best friend and the woman I was pretty certain was the love of his life.

“And that’s why you’re sitting here brooding at the bar on your own?”

“No. I’m here because I was faking a phone call to escape Stuart Doyle. If I ever end up in prison for murder, you can bet it’s because I’ve either killed my dad or that bastard.”

I laughed. Henry wouldn’t hurt a fly.

When the barkeeper came over, I ordered a water, and Henry asked for a refill. “So Doyle is still bugging you about selling the hotel?”

“Yeah. He sent me a new offer this week—a very generous one. His words, not mine.” Henry took a sip of whisky. “He told me I should take it before our dad gets convicted and the price plummets.”

“How did you respond?”

“I shredded it without a word, but he brought it up again just now and tried to convince me that, given the new allegations and the evidence, selling is the only sensible option.”

I frowned. “You’re not going to accept, though, are you?”

Henry snorted. “No, of course not. I have no intention of selling the hotel. And even if I did, it definitely wouldn’t be to Doyle. I’d rather give the place away for free than sell it to him. But enough about that. Where’s Grace?”

“She’s in the bathroom,” I lied, glancing around to see if she was back yet. It had already been ten minutes.

“You two put on quite the show on the dance floor earlier.”

The memory of our kiss sent heat coursing through me. I knew we weren’t at this party to enjoy ourselves, but with Grace in my arms, I had forgotten everything else for a brief moment. She looked like a goddess in her golden dress, glowing and radiant like the sun. Like my sun. It had taken her, and her warmth, to make me see just how cold and dark my life had been before, and I never wanted to go back to that.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Henry asked after I’d been silent for a long moment.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

He gave my shoulder an encouraging pat. The gesture was familiar and brotherly, just as I’d witnessed between him and Logan. “I’m happy for you. She’s a great woman. And she’s lucky to have you. You’ve really grown lately. I’m proud of you.”

I didn’t know if it was the gesture, Henry’s warm hand on my shoulder, or that last sentence, but suddenly my throat felt tight. The only person who’d ever told me they were proud of me had been my mum—and even then, it had never felt genuine. She hadn’t been proud of me, not really. She’d been proud of the version of me my dad had beaten and berated into existence. Since then, no one had ever said those words to me again. Until now.

I swallowed against the tightness. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Henry’s smile widened. Fine lines appeared around his blue eyes, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t mind looking like my dad, because it meant I also resembled my brother—just one more thing that connected us after all these years of distance and separation.

“Hey!”

I looked over to see Grace and realised at once that something wasn’t right. She seemed jumpy, her gaze nervous, but she tried to hide her agitation from Henry. Had she already found some evidence?