Belonging To The Earl

2.

The study was eerily silent, with scarce a sound except the enormous thudding of their guts as they stared at each other. They had no words to decipher a situation like this or to impose it more appropriately, a preposterous situation such as this.

There were merely no words.

The scotch glass Jordon was clasping hung in mid-air, his jaw dipped slightly, and his shoulders narrowly squared in a defensive stance.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Anthony asked softly, his lidded stare shifting swiftly from Jordon to the new guest at the study door. It was a startling sight, to see the same person in two different places at once.

"I'm trying to wrap my mind around this," Jordon growled, tightening his grip on the scotch glass.

Charles looked up from his putt. "Go to the Marlborough club yourself, then come back and let's see what happens."

"I might." Refilling his glass, the earl lifted it in salute. "As soon as I finish this bottle, and get to the end of this." He paused, his glass held halfway from his mouth, as he carefully appraised the man before him. His lookalike. In entirety. Perhaps he had taken leave of his senses at some point in the last few days. Or perhaps, this was how his grief chose to manifest itself.

Either way, nothing he was seeing made any sense to him.

"Who in the hell are you?" he grounded.

The man peeled off his coat, the butler standing behind him abruptly able to move. He had been startled when he saw someone that looked exactly like his master. But he knew the day would come, although he had never deduced it to be as soon as this.

"I am your twin. That is wholly obvious by now, I guess," the man said, strolling into the study with lazy strides. Jordon discovered with a profound grunt that they even walked in almost the same manner.

"I beg your pardon. But I would like to know how you were able to get here, right into this study without anyone stopping you. How that happened still remains a mystery to me."

"Isn't that plausible already?" the man asked, signalling towards his face with his right hand. "I am you. You in another way though. Perhaps, things might interest you more if you'd allow me to sit and then you kindly offered me a drink. At least, where I came from, that is a facet of the courtesy."

"I see," Jordon said between gritted teeth. This wasn't something to joke with, but this was so startling that he had no idea what to do. "Are you trying to disparage me and become the earl now?"

"I'd have loved to do that; sadly, I'm entitled to it more than you do. Besides, I am four hours older than you, Jordon."

"Now, now. Let's discuss this slowly," Anthony chipped in, discovering that Jordon was about to whack at any moment. "Why don’t you sit down, have a drink and then tell us who the hell you are. Understood?"

"You aren't supposed to command me, though," he sat down without waiting for them to offer him a seat and crossed his right leg over his left leg.

"My name is Jason, and I am your twin. Nonetheless, I am older than you by four hours. I also grew up with Mama in America, hence, the reason why you didn't know about me."

"A twin?" Jordon let out a humourless laugh and dropped his scotch. He walked slowly to where Jason sat, one of his hands inside the pockets of his cream coloured pants. "Mama? I don't have one. She died a few months after giving birth to me."

"She didn't." Jason's jaws were squared now, and a painful expression suddenly clouded his face. "She left to live. But she didn't, I’m afraid. Nothing ever made sense. He used her; I bet he didn't tell you that."

Jordon knew exactly who "He" meant and his fist tightened at the prospect of what the man was saying.

"Mother is dead. I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason chuckled and let his gaze travel across the study. The study that once belonged to their father. The beast who has destroyed their lives and made them grow without each other. He obviously deserved the death that befell him and more. Besides, wasn't he the most powerful man? Thinking so highly of himself because he was an earl. And he had abused their mother. Now, they were both dead. Left with an Uncle he only got to know about a few months ago.

"I don't care what you think. You are free to deduce whatever it is you want to assume. I'm not here for the title. I only wanted to meet you." His tone softened as he looked into his brother's brown eyes. Brown, just like his.

Both men were large, fit, and obviously disinclined to back down, Anthony suspected, if their pugnacious poses were any indication. Since he had no wish to become the centre of the fight, he said quickly, "Never mind, Jordon. Let's listen to what he has to say."

Jason cast a searching glance at Jordan. They both had dark brown hair. Jordan's was an inch longer than Jason's however, although that could be because Jason had parted his to the side. A single stubborn lock fell over his forehead, however, giving his subtle face a mysterious aura.

As Jordon moved toward the couch he was sitting on, Jason aimed to notice all possible similarities between them. He supposed Jordon walked a bit stiffer than he did, and there was something painfully English about the man.

"I don't think whatever this is, is of any good to any of us,” Jordon said. “Most especially me. You shouldn't be here, and I certainly shouldn't listen to you. But since you are and since I prefer us not to grapple with each other, kindly state your business and be on your way."

It took Jason a fraction of a second to answer because the resemblance at close range was alarming. "I just came to see you; to let you know that I exist. I plan on departing and going back to America soon. You don't have to worry a bit about me."

"I see," and even though he didn't want to admit it, Jordon knew that Jason had to be his twin. Nothing could've explained what that meant. Just then, an idea, well, a very stupid and ridiculous idea prompted his mind. He knew he was taking a risk for that, but that is a risk he was keen to take so he can keep his stepmother to himself, and get rid of Emily at the same time.

"Will an undertaking with me interest you, dear brother?"

It was a calculative move. But Jordon was ready to go for it. A move he had no idea would provoke matters; shatter bonds made. And probably, erode his planned life. He had no idea the mess he was about to suggest.