The Coldest War Read Online Free PDF

tittered behind an upraised hand. She stifled herself when the sommelier returned with another bottle to refill their glasses.
    Will gently laid one hand over his unused glass. The sommelier acknowledged the gesture with a nod, sparing only the briefest glance at the stump of Will’s missing finger. He whisked the glass away, looked doubly abashed: the glass ought to have been removed at the start of the meal, and he ought not to have noticed the injury. Such things were unimportant to Will, but the sommelier worked at the fringes of a social set where such lapses bordered on inexcusable.
    Aubrey frowned. He waited for the sommelier to pass out of earshot before saying, “Must you talk so common at the table?”
    â€œI’m merely reporting the facts of the matter, Your Grace.” Will gestured at Gwendolyn. “You wouldn’t ask me to keep secrets from my better half, would you? After all, this affects her as much as it does you. You’ll be the ones carrying my body.” Will patted his stomach, where the beginnings of a paunch were just visible beneath his vest. “You agreed it should be so.”
    â€œI have most certainly done nothing of the sort,” said Aubrey. A quick, vocal disavowal fueled by the concern that somebody might overhear the conversation and somehow believe it to be the truth. Poor Aubrey, thought Will. Even as a child, you were humorless. I can’t resist winding you up, and you know it.
    Aubrey would never be capable of leaving Will’s dark years entirely in the past. He’d spent too much time worrying about being seen with his younger brother, which at one time would have been social suicide. Will had come close to scuttling Aubrey’s political career on more than one occasion. To this day, a sheen of anxiety—fear of embarrassment, of damaging publicity—settled over Aubrey whenever he and Will were together in public.
    Will shook his head. “Oh, indeed you have. You ought to take more care when signing documents for the foundation.” He winked at Gwendolyn and his sister-in-law. “An unscrupulous fellow could take advantage.”
    The flush of indignation crept up through the folds of fat at Aubrey’s collar to his face. Quietly, he said, “It’s your job to prevent exactly that sort of thing.”
    â€œYes, it is. And you should be thankful that I am ever vigilant. Still, some things cannot be helped,” said Will. He turned to Viola. “The arrangements for your husband’s funeral are nothing short of scandalous. Still, it will be his final wish and by honoring it we shall honor him. Though I can’t begin to speculate how we’ll find so many Morris dancers on short notice.”
    Viola tittered again, the guilty laugh of the mildly scandalized.
    Gwendolyn didn’t enjoy baiting Aubrey as much as Will did. She said, “Well, then, at least it won’t be a dour occasion. Let the Communists have their gray little lives.” She shook her head. “Terrible.”
    â€œThat’s a rather unfair stereotype,” said Aubrey, clearly pleased at the chance to change the subject. “They’re just like us, truthfully.”
    Will read the subtle cues that told him Aubrey’s attitude had riled her a bit. He settled back to watch. It was an old argument, but he never tired of it. Gwendolyn had no equal in verbal contretemps.
    â€œJust like us? Forgive my ignorance, Your Grace, but I was unaware that the Kremlin had instituted a House of Lords,” said Gwendolyn. “Or have you collectivized the estate at Bestwood?”
    Touché, Will thought, and covered his mouth to hide a smile. Step lightly, brother.
    Aubrey sidestepped the barb. “A fair point. I meant simply that the people of the Soviet Union have the same wants and needs as the rest of us. Their leaders may have different ideas about how to provide these things, but in the end we’re all the same