Arthur Leighton let out a short laugh that had no humor in it at all.
“Pathetic, is it?
Then let me put it plainly.
If twenty-odd grown men can’t catch one girl’s eye, then when you come back here, I’ll break every one of your legs myself.
What’s the use of keeping something that doesn’t work?”
The room went dead quiet.
He had raised these boys hard from the time they were small.
There had been dawn runs in the rain, boxing lessons that ended in bloody noses, and long summers working in the family’s warehouses instead of lounging on yachts like the sons of other rich families.
Every one of them had taken his share of beatings over the years, and every one of them had grown up tough because of it.
Of course, Arthur was mostly bluffing.
Mostly.
The truth was, he was quietly confident.
The Leighton bloodline was a good one.
Every grandson in the room was outstanding in his own way.
They were tall and good-looking, and they were sharp, capable, and accomplished.
Not one of them was lacking in looks or in ability.
If anything, Arthur’s only worry was that the girl would have too many good options and wouldn’t be able to choose.
But his grandsons didn’t know he was bluffing.
After that threat, not one of them said another word.
They were too afraid of taking a beating before they even got out the door.
It was Arthur’s eldest son who finally spoke up.
He had been standing by the window with his arms folded, watching the whole scene with growing unease.
“Dad, if you’re dragging all of them to a blind date, you could at least tell us about the girl and her family.
Properly, I mean.”
Two of his own sons were somewhere in that crowd, and neither of them was married.
That made him nervous.
What if one of his boys ended up bringing home some spoiled little tyrant who made the whole family miserable for the next fifty years?
“Hm.
Fair enough.” Arthur’s stern face softened into a smile.
“It’s Margaret Sinclair’s granddaughter.
Neve.”
He chuckled.
“She’s not only beautiful, she’s sweet as anything.
Whichever one of you marries her won’t be getting the short end of the deal, I promise you that.”
He turned toward the door.
“Butler!
Have the cars brought around.
We’re going to the Sinclair estate for lunch.”
At the name, most of the men in the room visibly relaxed.
Many of them had met Neve Sinclair before, at charity galas, family dinners, and the occasional birthday party when they were all younger.
She was lovely to look at, easy to talk to, and well-mannered without being stiff.
Marrying her would hardly be a hardship.
And there was something else, something that made several of the grandsons exchange knowing glances.
Almost all of them knew the old story.
Half a century ago, their grandfather had pursued Margaret Sinclair with everything he had.
There had been flowers, letters, and at least one very public serenade that the family still teased him about.
He had never managed to win her.
And now, fifty years later, he wanted one of his grandsons to marry her granddaughter.
Nobody needed it spelled out.
The old man was trying to finish a dream he had never been able to finish himself.
Since they all understood it, no one asked any more questions.
One by one, they filed out to change.
An hour later, a long line of black cars pulled through the gates of the Sinclair estate.
The Leightons had not come lightly.
Arthur rode in the lead car, and his grandsons filled the next several.
Behind them came two more cars packed with bodyguards in dark suits and earpieces.
Margaret was waiting on the front steps when they arrived.
She came down to meet Arthur as he climbed out of the car.
He took one look at her and stopped short.
“Good heavens, Margaret.
Why do I get the feeling you’ve gotten younger?”
He wasn’t just being polite.
There was a glow to her skin that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her, and a brightness in her eyes.
Even the way she walked was different.
Her steps were lighter and quicker, as if some weight had been lifted off her joints.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Margaret said smoothly.
“Please, come in.”
She led them around the side of the main house toward the rear courtyard.
Behind the main residence was a wide garden, and beyond it stood a large sitting room with tall glass doors that opened onto a stone terrace.
It had been built for summer parties, and it was the only place on the estate big enough to hold this many guests.
Margaret had chosen it on purpose.
The Leightons had brought far too many bodyguards for the villa’s living room.
The two families had always gotten along reasonably well, largely because of the old friendship between Margaret and Arthur.
But the Leightons had brought nearly every unmarried heir they had in one convoy.
No sensible family would leave that many of its young men unguarded in someone else’s house, no matter how friendly the hosts.
So the bodyguards came in too and took up quiet positions around the garden and along the terrace.
Arthur, meanwhile, would not let the subject drop.
“So what is it?” he asked as they walked, keeping his voice low.
“Some new doctor?
A special diet?
You must have eaten something good.”
The older he got, the more interested he became in anything that promised to turn back the clock.
He tried every supplement his doctors would let him take and a few they wouldn’t.
If Margaret had found something that actually worked, he wanted to know about it.
Margaret’s heart gave a small, sharp jolt.
“Arthur, don’t joke about things like that.” She kept her tone light, but she cut him off quickly.
“If someone overheard and took you seriously, it would only bring more trouble to the Sinclairs.
We have enough of that already.”
She absolutely could not afford another enemy.
If word got out that Margaret Sinclair had suddenly gotten younger, people would start asking questions she couldn’t answer.
Arthur waved a hand and laughed.
“Ha!
What are you so nervous about?
It’s only me.” He gave her a meaningful look.
“After today, we’re family.”
Margaret didn’t answer that.
They reached the sitting room, where Helen had outdone herself.
The long tables were already laid with platters of fruit, pastries, and small savory bites, and there were pitchers of iced tea and lemonade and bottles of wine chilling in silver buckets.
Soft music played from hidden speakers.
Out on the terrace, a few tables had been set up with cards and chess sets for anyone who wanted them.
The grandsons drifted in and spread out.
Some went straight for the food.
Others wandered out to the terrace, hands in their pockets, looking out over the garden.
The tenth grandson, the movie star, dropped into an armchair in the corner and put on a pair of sunglasses, as if daring anyone to talk to him.
Margaret guided Arthur to the seat of honor near the window.
“Gentlemen,” she said, raising her voice slightly so everyone could hear.
“I’ve prepared some food and a few things to pass the time.
Please make yourselves comfortable.
I’ll go and bring my granddaughter down.”
She gave them a small nod and went back into the main house.
As soon as she was gone, Arthur leaned back in his chair and surveyed his grandsons with open satisfaction.
“You’ll see,” he said, to no one in particular.
“That girl is beautiful even without dressing up.
Don’t worry.
Every one of you boys will be satisfied.”
Several of the grandsons exchanged looks.
In the corner, the tenth grandson lowered his sunglasses an inch and said nothing at all.