The thought almost made him laugh again, but this time the feeling was bitter. Oh, how his mother’s face would pinch together if she knew he wanted to go riding with a woman who wasn’t Helene. Maxi might be free to know as many women as he pleased; Franz certainly was not. Every dalliance or even friendship he’d carried on until now had been secret in a way Maxi’s never were. The only person who knew about Franz’s current mistress was Maxi.

Maxi who had, apparently, wanted Louise for himself. When he found out she was sneaking into Franz’s rooms at night, he punched Franz in the jaw. As if Maxi didn’t have enough women in rotation. As if he wasn’t already making them all look foolish with his rakish reputation.

Then again, the boys had been in competition ever since they were young. The punch might have been about more than just Louise. It might have been about every time Maxi had lost a battle. By being denied an ambassador position he’d felt should be his. By being denied Louise’s affections. Maxi seemed to have no memory for the battles he’d won: the time he charmed Franz’s first love—Isabella—away, the time Mother took him to Italy but left Franz behind with the tutors. Let alone the many times Franz was scolded over nothing while Maxi got away with everything.

Franz rubbed at his jaw now, remembering the blow.

The sound of another horse approached from behind and Franz turned, his first fleeting thought that he’d somehow manifested Helene’s sister with the power of his mind.

But no. Maxi was the one he’d summoned with his thoughts. Riding out on a honey-colored mare, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, all cowlick and rumpled shirt and a smile that said he’d left more than one woman tangled up in sweat-damp sheets behind him.

“Brother.” Maxi quirked a smile and pulled his horse to a stop beside Franz.

“Brother,” Franz replied, unenthusiastic, noting—as usual—that Maxi never used his title. A slight meant to cut.

“The stable master told me you rode out.” Maxi tilted his head toward the river. “So, are we just going to stand here or are we going for a ride?”

“What do you want, Maxi?”

“Only to ride with my eldest brother.”

“Nothing more?”

“Well, I wouldn’t turn down some good French wine and a girl with heart-shaped lips and a heaving bosom.”

Franz gave Maxi a long look.

After a beat, Maxi continued, “Ah, I see. You weren’t serious. Then let’s ride, shall we?”

Franz urged his horse on, and Maxi followed.

“So, how was the execution? Delightfully gruesome, I assume?”