He leaned back in the leather chair. “For once, we’re all going to London and remaining there for the entire season.” He paused meaningfully. “Together,” he emphasized, letting the gravity of that settle over them. “So I think it’s vital that we discuss our plans.” He narrowed his eyes at Quinn, knowing the trouble his brother could cause. “All our plans. So we can avoid any problems which might arise.”
In the past, the Carlisle family had never all been in London at the same time. His father had sat for every Parliament session, taking his position as baron seriously although he’d never acquired much political power in the Lords. Mother and Josephine went only to purchase a few dresses, if Josie went at all because his sister preferred to remain at Chestnut Hill to help with the children at the Good Hope Home. And all three brothers came and went as they pleased, sometimes not seeing one another for weeks even while residing within the same London town house.
But this year, circumstances brought them all together for the season. Josie now lived in London with her husband, Thomas Matteson, Marquess of Chesney, and their children. Sebastian was required to attend Parliament, having more power within its committees than his father could ever have imagined, and while he sat in the Lords, Elizabeth Carlisle would visit with Josie and her family. Robert would undoubtedly spend his time courting Diana Morgan. As for Quinton, he was going only so Sebastian could keep an eye on him.
“I’ll be residing with Josephine and Chesney at Audley House,” his mother volunteered to start the conversation, “leaving you and your brothers at Park Place.” Her shoulders heaved with a long sigh borne of years of suffering her sons’ wild antics, and she slid a sideways glance of warning at her youngest son. “Please don’t burn the place to the ground.”
“Well, there go my May Day plans,” Quinn muttered, only half-sarcastically.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Oh yes, Quinton was certainly coming to London, where he wouldn’t let his brother out of his sight until June. Of next year.
“No May Day?” Robert sauntered into the room, interrupting what had been a promising start to the conversation and now throwing it into chaos.
Quinn gave his brother a deflated look as Robert crossed to the coffee service on the side table and reached for the urn. “No bonfire.”
Robert paused mid-pour, aghast. “Where’s the fun in May Day without bonfires?”
“I know.” Quinn grimaced. “So much for our Maypole.”
“Did she cancel the donkey rides, too?”
Elizabeth Carlisle rolled her eyes in weary exasperation, and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. His younger brothers had plagued their poor mother with one wild scheme after another all their lives. Even now, as grown men responsible for helping with the dukedom, the two couldn’t help but antagonize Mother every chance they could.
Looking at his brothers now and hearing the relaxed rhythm of their banter, it would have been easy to believe that they were the same as they’d always been, that their father’s death hadn’t changed them. But Sebastian knew better. It had changed all of them to their cores.
In the dark months following Father’s passing, both of his brothers had matured quickly and stepped up to assume large responsibilities for the dukedom. In that, they’d proven themselves well—Quinton as a successful estate agent, assuming supervision for the day-to-day operations of the workers and tenants, and Robert as a sharp business mind, taking on the bank accounts and business investments where a large portion of the family’s wealth was kept. Sebastian had been grateful for their help, knowing neither brother had to work given the ten thousand pounds each had inherited. Quinton had stashed his away, with dreams of buying his own land as soon as Sebastian found an agent to replace him here, while Robert had invested his in business ventures and nearly doubled it already, earning himself a fine reputation as a businessman in the process.
But when the two of them were together like this, they fell back into old habits, giving a glimpse of the rascals they’d been only a few short years ago.
Some things never changed. Sebastian only hoped that this season no donkeys were painted green in the process. Or set on fire.
“Are the Morgans off, then?” he asked as Robert splashed a generous amount of whiskey into his coffee, then fixed a second cup when Quinn gestured for one.
“Just.” Robert handed the coffee to his brother and sat down heavily onto the empty chair, kicking out his long legs. “I promised to call on them as soon as we arrive in London.”
Sebastian’s chest tightened as he remembered Miranda’s heartbroken words about his brother. “Does this mean you intend to court Miss Morgan?”
Robert smiled. “Yes, I do.”
He frowned. No one in the Carlisle family anticipated a marriage, yet Robert’s intentions appeared serious enough to draw Miranda’s attention and set her off on her madcap adventure last night to stop him. She could be flighty as a songbird at times, too boisterous and lively for her own good. Yet in her concerns about Robert and Miss Morgan, Sebastian didn’t doubt her intuition. Apparently she’d noticed something the rest of them hadn’t. “Do you plan to offer for her, then?”
Robert raised the cup to his lips and dodged, “If it comes to that. I do like her a great deal.”
His gut tightened in sympathetic dread. News of an engagement would devastate Miranda, who truly seemed to love his brother. Although looking at Robert now, gulping down whiskey-drenched coffee to combat a hangover, God only knew why.
“There’s no hurry to propose, you know.” Sebastian couldn’t stop the inevitable, but perhaps he could delay it. And truthfully, although he liked Miss Morgan, he wasn’t certain that she was the best choice in wife for his brother. Too demure, too genteel…too unsuspecting. “Best to wait until mid-season at least. Just long enough to give the girl time to realize what she’s getting herself into.”
Quinn grinned. “And flee.”
And just long enough to give Miranda’s heart a chance to heal. Sebastian nodded, for once agreeing with his youngest brother.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Robert agreed, taking a swallow of coffee. “There’s no hurry, I suppose.”
Relief swept through Sebastian. Miranda could bother him to no end with her uncontrolled exuberance, but she didn’t deserve to be wounded.
“Besides,” Robert chided, “you’re the one who should be getting married, Seb, not me.” He gazed with mock innocence at Sebastian over the rim of his coffee cup, an expression that did nothing to hide the flickering gleam in his eyes indicating that he wanted to cause trouble. “You’re getting old.”
“I am not old,” Sebastian grumbled. “I’m only thirty, for heaven’s sake.”
“And crotchety.” Quinn popped a bite of sweet roll into his mouth, oblivious to the glare Sebastian shot him.
Robert continued, “Isn’t it time for you to find a wife of your own and produce an heir—”
“Or six?” Quinn finished.
Sebastian glanced between his two brothers, pausing as he considered sharing with them the decision he’d made at dawn after a sleepless night of tossing and turning in rosewater-scented sheets, thanks to Lady Rose.
He’d been contemplating the idea of marriage for months now, ever since he’d inherited, if truth be told, when he’d come to realize how much of a help a wife could be. He hadn’t been prepared for the emotional burden of becoming a duke, or the loneliness of it. He had no one to confide in, not even his own family. His brothers had never felt the same duty for the title that he had and so wouldn’t be able to understand that he felt imprisoned by it, that he chafed from it so much that sometimes he thought he would go mad, or how deep his jealousy ran that they could choose their own life paths while his had been thrust upon him. For Christ’s sake, he couldn’t even get foxed anymore or spend the night with a woman for fear of what it might do to the title’s reputation. The night his father died had driven home that lesson. And as for his mother…how could he expect her to listen to his
complaints when what had given him this burden in the first place was her husband’s death?
Last night had made him come to a decision about his future and the ongoing absence of a woman in his bed, one who truly belonged there instead of those women he’d known before, who had given him little more than physical release and a night’s distraction from his responsibilities. The exact same thing he’d wanted to take from Lady Rose when he’d first walked into the room and found her draped so invitingly across his bed.
What he needed was a wife, one who would be a proper duchess and a guiding hand at his side, one in whom he could confide his troubles and take solace. One who was a reflection of what was important to him. A true partner, as his mother had been to his father. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like a prisoner in his own skin.
“Yes, it is time,” Sebastian agreed soberly, stepping to the edge of the cliff. Then he drew a deep breath and jumped. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing this season.”
The room froze around him, with Robert’s coffee cup raised halfway to his lips and Quinn stopping mid-chew. The only movement was a sudden widening of his mother’s eyes in stunned surprise. Not even the sound of breathing disrupted the shocked stillness.
Then his mother blinked. “That’s…” She blinked again, not quite able to clear the shocked expression from her face. “That’s…” She tilted her head as if she couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “Marriage?”
His brothers continued to stare as if he’d just sprung a second head.
With a grimace, he rolled his eyes. Good Lord. From their collective reactions, he might as well have just admitted to attempting to kill the king. He’d expected them to be surprised. Not shocked speechless. Despite his protests, at thirty he wasn’t young anymore, and although it pained him to admit that Robert and Quinton were right, he did need to produce an heir. Or six.
“I’ve been contemplating the matter for some time now,” he clarified, drumming his fingertips with agitation on the desktop, “and have decided that a marriage is in the best interests of the dukedom.”
“Oh,” Quinn said quietly around the last bite of sweet roll in his mouth, a stunned expression still on his face.
Damnation. Wouldn’t the three of them stop staring at him like that?
Finally, Elizabeth Carlisle smiled gently through her bewilderment. “If that’s what you want…It’s wonderful, Sebastian, truly.”
A niggling suspicion in his gut told him that his mother had just lied to him.
But given that she had her hands full coming to terms with Robert’s sudden courtship of Diana Morgan and preventing Quinn from ever courting anyone, he didn’t blame her for her surprised reaction to his sudden announcement. He’d certainly been surprised enough himself in the past twelve hours.
“The timing is right. The most eligible ladies will be gathered in London for the season,” he continued, reciting the speech he’d practiced in his head while his valet had been dressing him this morning. Barlow had bemoaned the entire time that he hadn’t helped Sebastian undress last night after the party. And a good thing he hadn’t, given the unexpected appearance of Lady Rose in his bedchamber. “All their extended families will be in residence, which will give me a good opportunity to examine their pedigrees. I need a respectable duchess, a highborn wife befitting the title and its holdings.”
Quinn laughed. “It sounds as if you’re choosing a horse!”
“Oh no, not at all,” Robert disagreed with a teasing wink at Quinn. “Seb wants more spirit in his horse than in his wife.”
Sebastian ignored both of them and concentrated on his mother’s growing frown, more troubled by that than he wanted to admit, as he finished with the coup de grâce to his brothers’ joking—“Someone who can give me an heir.”
That sobered both brothers immediately.
All four of them knew how important it was that Sebastian father a son. If he didn’t, the titles, the estate, and all the responsibilities would fall to his brothers. No one wanted that to happen. Least of all both of them. Oh, they would help him whenever he asked, yet they also wanted the freedom to live their lives however they chose and pursue their own paths of success, along which they were already rapidly excelling. But assume all the responsibilities completely? Never.
His mother’s troubled frown melted into one of concern—and that bothered him even more than the frown. “An heir is an important duty, of course.” Motherly love and worry filled her voice. “Yet there are other considerations.”
He nodded. “She must also understand the necessity of privacy and sobriety.” A woman not at all like Miranda, he thought, once again piqued at last night’s events. What on earth had she been thinking? She could have rained scandal down on both their families if anyone had seen her sneaking in or out of his bedroom. “Having us together in London will allow for all of you to give approval before I make an offer.”
“But, Sebastian, dear,” his mother said gently, “that is not our decision to make.”
“Your opinions are very important to me.” The title was as much theirs as it was his, and the decision of taking a wife could prove a momentous one for the future of the entire family. “We’ll use the season to conduct a logical, well-reasoned search for a duchess.”
Robert and Quinn looked at each other, then hooted with laughter.
Sebastian scowled at them. They could at least take the matter seriously, and if not seriously, then at least hold their peace. And stay out of his way.
He leveled his gaze on Quinn, the cold expression making his brother choke on his laughter. “And what, exactly, do you plan on doing this season while the rest of us are productively engaged?”
Quinn grinned. “Conducting a logical, well-reasoned search to find as many women as possible.”
“Hear, hear!” Robert raised his coffee cup in a toast. “To sweethearts and wives—”
“May they never meet!” Quinn finished, clinking his cup against his brother’s.
Sebastian shook his head. How was it possible that all three of them shared the same set of parents?
Having learned years ago that it was better to ignore her sons’ antics than to risk encouraging them by giving them attention, his mother sat forward in her chair and turned her cornflower-blue eyes on Sebastian. Her love and concern for him shone in their depths. “I think it’s a wonderful idea that you are serious about starting a family. But I hope you choose a wife for the right reasons.”
“I will,” he assured her.
She reached across the desk and placed her hand over his. “And that you have a marriage as loving and wonderful as the one I had with your father.”
“I will,” he repeated, although with much less conviction. He squeezed her hand as a knot of emotion tightened in his throat, then pulled away. As a duke, love was a luxury he couldn’t afford. After all, he wasn’t searching for a loving wife but a perfect duchess. One to make his father proud. And to be fortunate enough to find both in one woman…well, fate had never been that kind to him.
He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze on Robert. “And the family’s investments? Anything to report?”
Robert nodded, and suddenly, with the turn of conversation, he wasn’t the same man who had just joked with Quinton about May Day and marriage. He was mature, responsible, confident. The change was palpable. “I’ve moved capital from our accounts into the funds with the Bank of England. A low-risk investment just as you requested. The yields will sustain the principal and incur modest growth, enough to roll over into new land purchases in a few years, if you still want to expand the family’s agricultural holdings.”
Sebastian studied his brother, not letting the pride he felt for him show. Anyone looking at Robert now would never have suspected the wild scapegrace he’d been just two years ago or how he’d successfully taken over the Carlisle family’s financial investments in the intervening years. Or how much Father’s death had rocked Robert to his core. “You advise against prop
erty purchases? Wealth lies in land.”
Robert shook his head, his face as serious as Sebastian’s. “We have enough land to support the estate twice over. What we need are capital investments not tied to real estate. The wars are over, and the empire’s changing. New trade opportunities are springing up every day, and we’d be wise to invest a share of our profits in factories, trade, and goods.”
Quinn elbowed him in the ribs with a wink. “The ladies love it when you talk like that.”
Robert said nothing but hid his grin behind the rim of his cup of whiskey-coffee as he raised it for a sip.
“And you?” Sebastian turned his gaze onto Quinton. “Is the estate ready for spring?”
“The repairs to the dairy barn are set to start as soon as the cold weather breaks, and we’ve managed to mend the stone wall on the east pasture, as well as deepen the irrigation ditch ahead of schedule. I’ve decided to make allowances to the tenants this spring for losses in last year’s drought. We’re not obligated to, but…” He shrugged casually, as if that project alone hadn’t taken weeks to bring to fruition. Quinton had found a hidden skill in dealing with the estate’s daily operations, and all his charm had certainly helped relations with the tenants. “Trent has offered to supply free seeds for this year’s plantings.”
Sebastian arched a brow, not because he was upset at his brother for making promises on his behalf but because he was proud of the way Quinton had risen to the challenge of overseeing the estate. “Trent is, is he?”
Quinn grinned at Sebastian’s expense. “And quite happily, too. I’ve also got an estate agent lined up to oversee everything while we’re in London.” A hopeful tone crept into his voice. Quinn was chomping at the bit to find his replacement. As soon as he did, he could leave Islingham and carve out an independent life for himself on his own property. “If he does well, you should consider keeping him on.”
If the Duke Demands Page 4
