He muttered an oath. “I went to the funeral as you demanded, even though you know I’d rather bite off my tongue than go to such an affair. So, in my estimation, I’ve more than met my obligations to our relations.”
Egad, sometimes the man was so testy it made her insane. “Well, just barely, since you didn’t even come back to the house after the funeral to speak to my aunt or the other ladies.” When he bristled, she added hastily, “But don’t get your dander up. I’m not asking you to do anything more for them.” She thrust her hands behind her back to hide how her fingers were already forming fists. “I merely need to inform you of something they’re planning to do for me. Unless the gentlemen already mentioned it yesterday?”
His frown vanished. “No, no one mentioned anything. Thankfully, they spoke to me very little.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she said dryly. “You’re always so amiable in company.”
To her surprise, he laughed, which was rare enough that it heartened her. Perhaps this would go better than she’d feared.
“Anyway,” she went on, forcing some softness into her voice, “Aunt Lydia wishes to help me have a come-out. Along with Lady Gwyn.”
His amusement vanished as myriad other emotions washed his face, none of them readable, even to her. “A come-out,” he said dully. “In London society.”
“Of course, ‘in London society.’ Where else would it be? It’s hardly considered a come-out if I show up at an assembly in Sanforth, not that I ever could, since you won’t accompany me.”
“Your precious aunt Lydia could accompany you,” he said snidely. “Or even that Lady Gwyn woman, now that they both live at Armitage Hall.”
She stepped close to hiss, “Before long, they may be living in our house, and we may be living in the street. Once Sheridan takes a wife, he might wish to move Aunt Lydia into the dower house. And then where will we be?”
Looking away, he rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin.
“At least I am trying to endear myself to them,” she went on. “Not that it’s any great trial. They’re nice people. They treat me like family. And they don’t go hieing off to places at any hour of the night to do Lord knows what without a word to anyone. Nor do they expect their sisters to hang about for years, futilely hoping for some . . . some future beyond—”
“Enough, Beatrice.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “If you want a come-out, have one. I’ll see if I can’t . . . scrape together some funds.”
“You don’t need to. My aunt says she can afford to pay for mine since Thornstock is paying for his twin’s. Indeed, both Aunt Lydia and Lady Gwyn seem eager to help me gain a husband.”
“Which is all you want, isn’t it?” he said bitterly. “To get away from me.”
Of course he would see it like that. “I want to have a life, blast it! Yes, I want a husband and children to love and a home of my own that I can be sure won’t be pulled out from under me! Is that so unreasonable?”
He gaped at her, clearly thrown off by her fervent expression of her true desires, which she did try to hide around him, because she never knew what might set him off.
“It’s not unreasonable,” he finally said, tightening his hand on the head of his cane. “I just wish you would find a husband here, in town.”
“Yes, because there are so many young men around with a war on.”
The minute he went rigid she regretted mentioning the war. “Right,” he snapped. “All those men off serving their country while I hobble around here—” He caught himself. “Forgive me. I’m merely . . . annoyed that I can’t be the one to help you gain what you want. To ensure you have a proper debut.”
That stuck a pin in the balloon of her anger. “Oh, Joshua. I know where your heart is. I do.” She couldn’t resist lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. When he shied away from the affectionate gesture, she stifled a sigh and dropped her hand. “And it’s not as if you could do it on your own, anyway. I must have a woman present me. It’s really very kind of our aunt to offer.”
“Very kind, indeed,” he bit out. “That lot is nothing if not ‘kind.’”
The way he said it gave her pause. “What is that supposed to mean? You’ve barely spent time with our aunt, you ignore Sheridan, and you haven’t even met Lady Gwyn.”
“None of them has ever given a . . . bloody damn about what happens to you until now, and suddenly they show up offering you a debut in good society? Mark my words, they have some ulterior motive.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
Somehow she had to get her and Joshua out of this place, find somewhere more secure, where he could flourish . . . where she could flourish. Because right now they were dying a slow, miserable death amid the debris of Papa’s scandalous actions and Joshua’s deep wounds.
She was so sick of it. “Are you saying you won’t approve the scheme?”
The bleak anger in his hazel eyes made her want to cry. To her surprise, he said, “Of course I’ll approve it.”
She threw her arms about his neck, unable to keep from touching him. “Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re the best brother ever!”
Though he stiffened a bit, he didn’t push her away as he usually did. But he did say gruffly, “It isn’t as if you’re giving me much of a choice.”
She hugged him close. “I always give you a choice, Brother. As long as you make the right one.”
When she drew back, he was actually smiling. “I swear, duckie, you are growing up too fast.”
He hadn’t called her “duckie” in an age. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not only fully grown but rapidly approaching spinsterhood.”
“Nonsense. Any man with eyes can see you’re a diamond of the first water.”
“A diamond in the rough, perhaps,” she quipped. “And apparently, only blind men live around here.”
“Except our cousins, right?” Before she could answer, he added, “Very well, go on out into the great, wide world. I shan’t stop you.”
“You could accompany us to London,” she said on a breath. “I’m sure our aunt wouldn’t mind. And you deserve to be out in society, too.”
He scowled. “There is no way in hell I’m going near that cesspool. And trust me, no one wants me there, poking at all their pretensions.” He shoved his free hand in his coat pocket. “You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll have more fun without me. Just . . . well, I hope you’ll return here occasionally once you’ve taken some fine fellow for a husband.”
“I’ll be here so often you’ll be sick of me,” she said.
Still, she earnestly hoped that her “fine fellow” of a husband could help her discover a better post for her brother. One that made use of his education and experience and banished the sorrow in his eyes.
Because he deserved better. And by God, so did she.
Grey stood outside the gate to the kennel, noting the sounds of dogs barking as Miss Wolfe greeted each by name. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her and her brother. He’d come looking for her partly out of restlessness and partly out of a desire to get started on Sheridan’s damned assignment.
But then he’d overheard them arguing and had figured he might as well find out what he could, if only to pacify Sheridan. Grey had met Wolfe at the funeral, but he’d only had the chance to notice a few things. Wolfe was better-looking and more gentlemanly in appearance than Grey had expected, given his profession. Sheridan hadn’t been wrong about Wolfe’s arms, either—the major was built like a wrestler. He might walk with a cane, but it clearly didn’t keep him from working with his hands. And he was tall, too, though Grey had anticipated that since Beatrice wasn’t exactly short.
Still, other than noting aspects of Wolfe’s appearance, Grey had gleaned little, since he and the major had scarcely spoken two words to each other.
At least eavesdropping had elicited a bit more information. Grey hadn’t been able to make out the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough to determine that Miss Wolfe was concerned for her future. And rightf
ully so, since Wolfe was apparently going out at night to places he wouldn’t speak of to his sister.
But despite that and the major’s general crankiness, Wolfe didn’t seem the sort to fight for the dukedom. Nor did he sound like the reckless, half-mad fellow Sheridan had described. Wolfe certainly didn’t seem interested in murdering four men to inherit.
Miss Wolfe spoke from inside the kennel yard, “All right, lads, time for our walk.”
Holy hell. They were coming out. Grey didn’t want her to catch him lurking about like a servant listening at doors.
Feeling like an idiot, he retreated a short way down the hill, then waited until the kennel door opened before he retraced his steps up the hill toward her.
She emerged with three leashed pointers and shut the door behind them. Then she bent to say, in a girlish voice, “Now don’t tell Mr. MacTilly, but we’re going to have a fine run without these leashes, aren’t we?”
Caught off guard by her tone, Grey paused to watch as she continued to speak sweet nothings to the dogs while she unfastened the first leash.
He’d seen her shrewish and he’d seen her subservient, but he hadn’t yet seen her gentle. It twisted something inside his chest, making him uneasy.
When she went on to the next dog, she put her back to him and bent in a way that showcased her lovely bottom. Damn it all to hell. Her simple gown of black wool skimmed it provocatively. Ah, how he would love to put his hands on that luscious, full derriere.
To the last dog, she said, “None of that misbehavior you showed last time, do you hear me, Hercules? You’ll be a good boy for Beatrice, won’t you? I know you will, you darling rascal.”
As Grey’s loins clenched, he had the errant thought, Ah, yes, Miss Wolfe, I will be a very good boy for you. Just try me.
He wondered what she’d be like in bed, with her soft hands and full mouth caressing him. Or perhaps she’d turn fiery as she had the day they’d met, and she’d rise to meet his every thrust, wrapping those long legs about his hips as they—
God help him, what was he thinking?
Fortunately, just then the dogs rushed off down the hill and she turned to see him approaching.
She blushed deeply. “Your Grace.” Nervously she glanced back at the closed door, and lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” he said as he reached her. “Sheridan told me you would most likely be at the kennels, and someone directed me to them.”
To you. And your very fetching behind.
Good God, he must get that image of her bottom out of his head. He felt as off-kilter as the hounds, who dashed madly down the hill, then back up, trying to coax her into following.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. One of the hounds came up to nuzzle her hand, and she scratched his head idly. “Does Aunt Lydia need me?”
Her mention of his mother dampened his desire at once. “No. She’s taking today to rest, thank God.”
An instant wariness darkened her features, which her short-brimmed bonnet didn’t shield in the least. “So why are you here?”
“Before I begin advising you and Gwyn on society’s rules, I thought you and I should get to know each other better. It might make things easier.”
“Then why isn’t Lady Gwyn joining us?” she asked, now clearly on her guard.
“Because I already know my sister quite well, Miss Wolfe,” he joked.
She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I-I meant . . . That is . . .”
“I know what you meant,” he said, taking pity on her. He wished he could make her feel as easy around him as she clearly did around Sheridan. “And besides, Gwyn is keeping Mother company.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Refusing to look at him, she smoothed down her rumpled skirts. “I have to walk the dogs. Pointers need lots of exercise or they—”
“—become restless and unmanageable. Yes, I know. Why don’t we walk them together? I promise I don’t bite, Miss Wolfe. No pun intended.”
Her lips twitched as if she fought a smile. “In my experience, sir, any man can bite if provoked.”
“Then don’t provoke me, and I won’t show my teeth.” When she bristled, he flashed her a grin meant to soothe. “You may have noticed I’m not easy to provoke. I’m like your pointers—ready to come to heel at a command.”
She snorted. “I rather doubt that, Your Grace.”
The use of the honorific irritated him. “Call me Grey, if you please, like the others do. Or even Greycourt, if you prefer. You’re not a servant, and I’m not your master.”
“All right. But then you must call me Beatrice like the rest of the family.”
“Not Bea?” he asked.
A sigh escaped her. “Don’t say anything to the others, but I can’t stand ‘Bea.’ It makes me think of old ladies.”
“Thank you for telling me. Though you ought to tell them, too.”
“I can’t. They’ve been so kind to me.”
“Ah. And no one could ever accuse me of that.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean—”
“I’m teasing you,” he said with a laugh. “I told you, I’m not easy to provoke. All appearances to the contrary.”
“If you say so . . . Grey.” But her tone showed she was still wary.
Not waiting for him to lead the way, she headed down the hill with the dogs dancing ahead of her. Grey followed, noting how she seemed to control the hounds with an invisible leash. They never got too far ahead of her nor dashed off into the woods. And when one of them looked as if he might do so, she merely murmured a word, and he came to heel instantly.
“Your pointers are very well trained,” he observed.
“If you can tell that, you must be quite the hunter.”
“Actually, hunting isn’t my favorite pastime, but I do know dogs. I used to have two setters as pets. They were not well trained or even well behaved, for that matter. You’ve never seen a more rambunctious pair of rascals. No one could control them, including me.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Though I daresay you could have.”
“I should hope so. Setters aren’t so hard to train.” She fixed her gaze on the dogs gamboling ahead of them. “You said you ‘used to.’ What happened to your pets?”
After a moment, he said, “I had to leave them behind in Prussia when I came back to England to attend Eton.”
“Oh, how awful.” Sympathy flooded her face. “You must have missed them terribly.”
Not as much as I missed my family. “They were dogs, Miss Wolfe. Not children.”
He’d meant to put her off. Instead, she eyed him closely. “That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t miss them just the same.”
“I didn’t have time to miss them,” he said, then changed the subject. “So, I understand that you and your brother live in the dower house on the estate.”
For some reason, that turned her prickly once more. “We do, yes. At least as long as your mother prefers to live in the hall.”
“Trust me, my mother will always live as close to her children as is possible, so unless Sheridan kicks her out—”
“Or his new wife does,” she said tartly. Then she caught herself. “Forgive me, Your Grace. That was too blunt.”
“Would you please stop that?”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I meant to say ‘Grey.’”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Stop apologizing for saying what you think. It’s what I do every day of my life.”
That made her stiffen. “Because you can. You’re a duke, and a wealthy one at that. No one is going to stand up to you, and if I had any sense, I wouldn’t, either.”
Her forthright retort made him chuckle. “That’s more like it.” When she blanched and opened her mouth, he added, “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”
Her eyes glittered at him. “I wasn’t going to.”
“The hell you weren’t.” When she glanced pointedly down to where his hand still gripped her arm, he released
her. “Looks like it’s my turn to apologize. Forgive me for manhandling you. Though I get the impression that everything I do annoys you.”
With a furtive look down the hill to make sure the dogs were still in her line of sight, she said, “That’s not true. You were kind enough not to tell my cousin about our . . . heated exchange when we first met.”
“Was it heated?” he quipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”
That brought a small smile to her lips. “Liar.”
“I tell you what. How about if we pretend that I am not a duke and you are not my mother’s latest pro—” He caught himself before he could say, “project.” “My mother’s protégée. Let’s pretend, for the moment, that we are merely two people with no ulterior motives. I will say what I think, and you will say what you think, and neither of us will apologize.”
“Why?”
“Because your stopping to apologize is taking up far too much of my valuable time,” he said with a smile. “You see? That’s how it’s done. I will be my usual arrogant self, and you will be your usual forthright self, and we will get through this together with a minimum of fuss.”
And perhaps she would reveal some useful secret about her brother. Not to mention that he would get to see the real her more often.
She eyed him askance. “I thought you were supposed to be preparing me for moving in high society. I doubt that in such a case I should be saying whatever comes into my mind.”
“I agree—you should not. Unless it’s to me alone. As long as no one else hears, as long as it’s between us, it will be perfectly acceptable. And it might actually keep you from blurting out the wrong thing elsewhere.”
Coloring very prettily, she said, “So you’ve noticed my tendency to . . . er . . .”
“Blurt? How could I not? It’s the thing I find most refreshing about you.”
“Truly?”
“I swear.” He thrust out his hand. “So, what do you think? Do we have a bargain?”
She hesitated before taking his hand. “I suppose. As long as what we say goes no further.”
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