"Saints above - that woman is my new hero!" Mal laughed from his place on the sofa.

Bane said nothing, still caught off guard by everything about what had just happened. She'd touched his face - touched the scars on his face - called him 'my dear' - and then dismissed his scolding as if there was nothing to worry about. He was still watching the swish of her skirt as it disappeared around a corner upstairs, that walking cane acting as her crutch as she made her way.

"So were you planning to tell her you love her, or just keep her believing you're an angry beast who might gobble her up at any moment?" Mal asked dryly, producing a flask from his inner jacket pocket to take a swig.

"I - I - I don't..." Bane stammered like an idiot, still trying to sort it out in his mind...

"Is everyone bent on blindness around here?" Mal asked in exasperation, rolling his eyes heavenward as if the Saint herself was the only one who could understand how he suffered.

"Well, it's not as if you aren't up to your old games," Bane sputtered in his defense, then regretted it immediately as a deep sadness came over his brother's face. He swigged at the flask again, wincing as the sharp liquid went down his throat.

"She was never a game, Brother," Mal answered quietly, rising from the sofa to move across the room and face out the window as if taking in the view... but Bane knew he was only trying to put his back to his brother.

"And George is?" Bane pressed, moving into the room in search of a drink for himself. He'd had too much with Harry the night before, but some days the only way to beat the hangover was to have a stiff drink.

"I told you - I like her," Mal answered, clearing his throat before turning back to his brother, the flask disappeared again, "But it hardly matters if everyone on the mountain likes her - she's not going to stay if you don't start telling her you want her to."

"Has everyone got an opinion on this, eh?" Bane muttered, pouring himself a heavy dose from a crystal decanter that was kept in one of the glass paned cabinets above the sideboard.

"Harry has been on you?" Mal guessed with a shake of his head.

"Blair as well this morning," Bane added, taking his drink like a prescription, "It seems you all believe I will scare her away. And not a one of you has considered that she is the one who will want to leave no matter what I do now."

"Nah, that I can understand," Mal answered, pacing ever so slightly towards Bane, that deep sadness returning to his expression, "I loved Cora with every fiber of my being... and all she wanted was a title."

"I wish now she'd just poisoned me so you could inherit the thing instead," Bane said off handedly, not sure what else to say. The two had never discussed Cora, and Malcolm had disappeared the same day as her funeral.

"Gina is different," Mal said as his answer, effectively changing the subject, "She just gave me the set down of my life... and I've spent six years at the Mart, mind you."

"And what did you do to warrant that?" Bane asked grimly, suspecting that George had been more than a little provoked.

"Ah - so you do trust her," Mal grinned, pointing a finger at Bane as if he'd discovered something. Perhaps he had.

"That's more complicated than you'd think," Bane answered bitterly, though Mal was the last person he wanted to confess his bridal mix up with.

"You were trying for Georgina, weren't you?" Mal accused, grinning wider now. Bane choked on his drink, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Bane barked in response, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"I knew you were just trying to irk me - you knew I fancied Georgina St. John - or found out somehow... and you were out for revenge. Admit it, Brother," Mal challenged, smiling like a sprite.

"Well look where it got me," Bane said instead of a direct confession, he waved at the door George had just exited from as a way of explanation.

"I've done my due diligence, Brother," Mal announced with a shrug, "I've tried within reason to seduce your wife -"

"- what?! -"

"- but the trouble is, she actually likes you," Mal concluded, ignoring his brother's outburst of anger, "Be careful you don't shove this one down the stairs, eh?" Malcolm added, his voice suddenly losing its teasing tone, and his gaze going chilling and hard, "I would hate to see you robbed of the love of your life... it's a terrible thing."

"Mal -" Bane began, standing to run his brother down, to apologize, to explain, but Malcolm was already heading out the way George had gone, one hand waving through the air between them.

"Forget it, Brother," Mal said, his mouth twisted in a morose little smirk, "At least one of us should."