If the Duke Demands

by Anna Harrington

  Robert laughed. “You getting Quinn a membership at White’s…Good to know the old Sebastian isn’t completely dead after all.”

  He fixed his brother with a hard look, suddenly irritated. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, rising to his full height.

  “That lately you behave like you’re older than Moses but only have half as much fun. What happened to the brother who used to lead us into debauchery and trouble? The one who used to know how to have a good time. Who let himself actually have a good time in the first place.”

  “He became a duke,” he answered quietly.

  Robert must have heard the weariness in his voice, because his eyes softened. “Enjoy yourself this season, Seb, will you? It’s London, for God’s sake…a playground for rakes, rogues, and newly minted peers. It would be a shame if you sliced into a wedding cake before you had the chance to sample the tarts.”

  Sebastian grimaced at his entendre.

  Leaning forward, elbows on knees, Robert grew sober. “I’m serious. Enjoy yourself.” Concern darkened his face. “You’ve been working hard since you inherited. Too hard. No one can say you haven’t made the title and your family your first concern in everything. Or not done Father proud.”

  Sebastian looked down at his cigar, studying the red tip as he rolled it in his fingers, his jaw clenched tight and saying nothing. Damnation. He didn’t need to be lectured on his life by his little brother, who had no idea of how heavy his burdens were, no idea of the depth of the promises he’d made to their father. Or the stranglehold those promises still had on his life.

  “So let yourself have a little fun this season, all right? You’ve earned it.” Robert pushed off the settee, then helped himself to a cigar, tucking it inside his breast pocket as he headed for the door. “I’m going out to find Quinn. Join up with us later, all right? It’ll be just like old times. Except without the belly dancers.” He grinned as he disappeared out the door. “Maybe.”

  Staring daggers after him, Sebastian clenched the cigar between his teeth. Robert was wrong. He wasn’t behaving like a curmudgeon. He was behaving like a responsible peer, one with his family’s reputation and new title to worry about. One who would never let them down again.

  Robert didn’t understand the pressure he was under—no one understood. He was a new duke whom most claimed was an upstart who didn’t deserve to be granted the title in the first place, whom every member of the quality would be watching like a hawk this season to see if he had the mettle to be a leader in the Lords and the presence to be socially acceptable. He could never take a single step nor make any decision without considering the ramifications of its outcome on his family, the tenants, all the estate workers and villagers…and most importantly, on his father’s legacy. He could no longer be carefree and blithely happy the way his brothers could.

  No matter how much he longed to be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two Busy Weeks Later

  Don’t you think the palace is simply grand?” Miranda couldn’t help but beam an excited smile as she sat on the corner of the picnic blanket spread over the lawn in Hyde Park and tried to engage Robert in conversation as he lay stretched out across the blanket next to her. Sebastian lay in the same pose on the other end of the blanket, watching and listening, and inexplicably making her nervous, even when saying nothing at all. “So many colors and gold leaf, such a beautiful gallery filled with paintings and portraits— Oh! And luxurious silks and brocades everywhere.”

  “I’d love to have gone to the palace mews.” Robert plucked a blade of grass and focused his attention on folding it between his fingers. “Did you have a chance to visit them? Rumors say King George has the finest four-in-hand team in England.”

  Miranda’s chest sank with a dull thud. She’d hoped she could impress him with her visit to court, even just a little, and convince him that she was just as fine as Diana Morgan because of it. Apparently, she would have been better off by taking her tea in the royal stables.

  “No,” she mumbled, “I didn’t see any horses.”

  “Miranda had other things to worry about,” Sebastian reminded Robert quietly as he lay on the opposite side of the blanket, the two men resembling golden bookends. “It was her first time at court, remember.”

  “And my last,” she sighed with a touch of bittersweet appreciation now that it was over. Yet her spirits weren’t dampened at all by knowing that her only visit to court was for an unofficial presentation to the queen with a dozen other young ladies and their sponsors, because it would be a day she’d never forget. “But it was truly marvelous.”

  The whole affair was wonderfully special for her, and she couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been introduced like a real lady—to the queen! Elizabeth Carlisle had been so very kind to her, and Miranda couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a mother. Someone to fuss over her and look at her with pride and affection. She liked it, a great deal.

  None of the Carlisle men had accompanied the women yesterday, not even Sebastian, as no men were allowed into the queen’s drawing room. So when this afternoon proved unusually mild for March, Elizabeth Carlisle had insisted on a family outing to the park to celebrate. On the wide lawn stretching between the tree plantations and the Serpentine, Josie played with her toddler son and her six-year-old adopted daughter, and Thomas Matteson hovered nearby, as always an attentive father and husband. Quinn and Elizabeth Carlisle strolled a turn about the park to stretch their legs after the family picnic, the remnants of which still lay scattered on china dishes across the blanket in front of them.

  Sebastian returned her smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. My first visit to court was rather disastrous.”

  “Oh?” Her curiosity pricked, she leaned toward him, mindful of the skirt of her yellow afternoon dress spread around her. “What happened?”

  “My father had been summoned to see the king, so Mother and I waited in one of the drawing rooms. I was just four at the time.” His eyes crinkled at the memory. “Somehow, I managed to sneak away from the nanny and wandered off.”

  “We were always sneaking away from Nanny,” Robert put in with an impish grin at his older brother. “Sebastian was the ringleader and the one who got us out of trouble whenever we got caught.”

  “Which was all the time,” Sebastian admitted when Miranda laughed lightly at that perfect description of the young man he’d been, long before she came to know him. “But Robert and Quinton weren’t born yet, so I was on my own to cause trouble that day.”

  Miranda had never heard this story before, and she found herself seeing a whole new side to him. And, surprisingly, liking it. “And did you?”

  “Heaps worth.” His eyes sparkled at her as he reached toward the fruit plate to pluck off a grape. “I made my way into the formal dining room, where I fell asleep beneath the table. By the time the footmen found me two hours later, the entire palace was in an uproar.” He laughed at the memory. “I cried inconsolably because I thought they would rescind Father’s barony because I’d misbehaved.”

  A soft smile played at her lips. Sebastian as a little boy…she could barely fathom it. Always before, whenever she thought of Sebastian as a small child, she’d imagined him the same. Only shorter.

  During these past two weeks in London, though, she’d come to see a different side of him, and it wasn’t so hard to imagine him as a little boy now. Or see how much the title and all its obligations weighed on him. Did that little boy—for that matter, the carefree young man he’d been only a few years before—have any idea of the staid, responsible man waiting for him? And would he like the man he’d become?

  And then, there was Robert. The more time she spent together with the two men, the more she began to realize how very different they were. Oh, they looked alike, with the same golden hair and blue eyes, the same tall and broad build, and especially right now, with the two of them lying on the blanket like matching statues. But their personalities were completely different, espec
ially since Sebastian had inherited. Robert had sobered since Richard Carlisle’s death; so had Quinton, to a lesser extent. But not like Sebastian. Sebastian had changed completely beneath the burden of the title, and despite the frustration and annoyance he often stirred inside her, in this aspect of his life at least, her heart ached for him. She wanted him to be happy, and she wasn’t certain he was.

  “And you, Robert?” She initiated another attempt to engage him in conversation. She refused to wave the white flag of surrender just yet—she wouldn’t. “Have you been to court?”

  “A few times. Not often.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The royals don’t usually want my sort anywhere near them.”

  “Your sort?” She frowned.

  He gave her a half grin and reached over to tickle her on the nose with the blade of grass. “A Carlisle.”

  Forcing a soft laugh, she rubbed the tip of her nose. He was teasing her, like always. She should be happy about that, yet her chest squeezed with doubt. Could she actually be losing ground with him? After all, in her heart she knew that he would never have tickled Miss Morgan on her nose. It simply didn’t seem like the type of flirtation a man would make toward a woman he found alluring enough to court.

  “How about Almack’s, then?” Her fingers pulled nervously at her lace-edged skirt hem, but she kept her bright smile firmly in place. Trying to keep a conversation going with the man was proving to be nearly impossible. The cold truth nibbled at the backs of her knees that she’d never had to try so hard with him in the past, when they were only friends. But now that her pursuits were serious, oh heavens, was there anything she could do to make him notice her as a woman? “We’re going there for the first time tomorrow evening.”

  “Whyever for?” Robert fixed her with an expression somewhere between shock and dismay.

  Miranda stared back in surprise. She certainly hadn’t expected that reaction, and she glanced quickly at Sebastian to figure out what she’d done wrong this time, only to find him frowning disapprovingly at his brother.

  “Because I have to have my interview there,” she explained, her smile faltering, “so I can have my debut and waltz in the assembly rooms. The duchess said…Doesn’t everyone go to Almack’s?”

  “Only ladies desperate to snag a husband from among a flock of sheep.” He threw away the blade of grass and sat up. “And that’s not you, sprite.”

  He rested his elbows on his bent knees and arched a brow at her. Finally, she had his full attention on her. But instead of making her feel warm and special, she felt uncomfortable. And increasingly worried that he would never see her as anything but the girl next door. The sprite who apparently needed his protection from gentlemen in assembly rooms.

  He continued, “I thought the goal of your season was to simply have a good time in London, not find a husband.”

  “I suppose,” Miranda deflected quietly, unable to answer truthfully that she did want a husband—him. She focused her attention once more on her skirt, lowering her face so he wouldn’t see any traces of the frustration and disappointment churning inside her. Or give away her true feelings for him, which at that moment were also a churning knot of frustration and disappointment. “I didn’t realize about Almack’s…”

  She’d had her invitation to court, and that had been a fairy tale. Nothing short of a perfect dream come true. Tomorrow night at Almack’s would be her second official outing, to get the patronesses’ approval, and then she could enjoy her own debut at the Countess of St James’s annual ball, accept callers, and most thrilling of all, to waltz! She couldn’t think of anything more romantic than whirling around the dance floor in a man’s arms. Elizabeth Carlisle and Josie had both assured her that this was all the proper, appropriate sequence for a debut.

  But now…she wasn’t so certain of anything.

  “Almack’s is perfectly fine,” Sebastian told her, reaching over to give a reassuring tug at her half-boot, just sticking out from beneath her hem. He grinned at her, then slid a sideways glance at his brother. “Robert doesn’t like the place because they refuse to serve liquor, and he can’t waste away the evening there gambling or talking business.”

  That made her feel better—slightly—and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Then I shouldn’t be concerned about flocks of male sheep?”

  “Certainly not.” Despite the smile on Sebastian’s face, she easily saw the concern for her in his eyes. Was he beginning to doubt her and their pact? Or had he already come to believe what she was beginning to suspect, that she and Robert were destined to be nothing more than friends? “Besides, the plans have already been made. Strathmore’s going to escort you, and the colonel will definitely keep all the sheep away from you.” He paused, barely a heartbeat, but Miranda noticed. Lately, and annoyingly, it seemed she couldn’t help but notice every move Sebastian made. “And I would hate for you to miss the experience.”

  Her eyes stung at his kindness, and she blinked. Drat him for being nice to her. She knew how to handle Sebastian when he was being bossy and duke-like; she even knew how to ignore him whenever he was set on aggravating her. Which was quite often. But when he was being charming and agreeable like this, he confused the daylights out of her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He popped the grape into his mouth, saying nothing. But his eyes sparkled at her and once more sent up that nervous fluttering low in her belly.

  She cleared her throat and tried again to engage Robert in a conversation. “I hear that the new French fashions—”

  “Are you going to Tattersall’s tomorrow?” Sebastian interrupted, so suddenly that he caught Miranda by surprise. When she parted her lips to continue with her original comment, he slid her a pointed look and continued, “Heard Nathaniel Reed has a hunter for sale that he trained himself. Rumors are that his horses are good enough to rival Jackson Shaw’s.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Robert answered with interest. “Shaw has better bloodlines, but Reed’s horses are better trained.”

  Miranda stared between the two men in disbelief as they fell easily into a conversation about horses. Horses! She was a woman, she wasn’t supposed to talk about horses. Didn’t they know—

  Oh.

  She held Sebastian’s gaze as understanding fell through her. Robert liked horses, so he would undoubtedly like a woman who liked horses, which was why Sebastian had steered the conversation there…to help her. But her heart sank anew. The large beasts simply terrified her. She knew nothing about horses, but she did know about…

  “Fishing,” she announced loudly, barging back into the conversation with all the subtlety of a church bell at midnight.

  Both sets of blue eyes swung to stare at her with surprise, as if she’d just declared herself Queen of England.

  Now that she had their attention, she smiled and hurried on, “I’ve heard that the salmon fishing in England rivals that of Scotland.”

  Robert glanced past her at Sebastian with an amused look she didn’t understand. “I certainly hope so. So does Quinn.” Ignoring both Sebastian’s irritated scowl at his comment and Miranda’s bewilderment, Robert pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his trousers. Apparently, the conversation was over before it had even begun. “Diana Morgan is walking along the Serpentine with Lady Jane Sheridan. I should go say hello.”

  Miranda’s heart tore again, just a little bit more. How much more could she take of watching Robert with Diana before it ripped completely in two?

  Robert looked down at Sebastian. “Isn’t Lady Jane one of the women on your list?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian answered, the finality of the single word indicating that he wished to share nothing more about Lady Jane Sheridan, the daughter of the Earl of Bentham and the woman whom retiring room gossip claimed was in the running to be that season’s Incomparable. And whom Miranda knew had sparked Sebastian’s interest.

  Miranda watched her across the park, walking so smoothly as to almost glide over the grass, her face carefully shielded
from the sun by a large bonnet and lace parasol, while Miranda’s own bonnet sat unused by her side. Unable to resist the warmth of the afternoon sun, she’d removed the stiff, stuffy thing, even though the sun would certainly dot more freckles across her nose. Miranda doubted that Lady Jane had ever suffered a freckle in her life.

  She sniffed and looked away. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as Diana,” Robert put in, and his unwitting words felt like a knife to her chest. “I’ll put in a good word for you, Seb.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Sebastian warned.

  Robert laughed away the threat and gave Miranda a nod as he departed.

  She stared after him, utterly at a loss. How did women like Miss Morgan and Lady Jane so easily capture men’s attentions, while she struggled to make them notice that she was even in the room? Were ladies like that born with skills of seduction, or did they learn them? And if they’d learned them, then Miranda dearly wished someone would take pity on her and tell her how.

  She watched Robert saunter up to the two women, who held their parasols daintily over their shoulders like porcelain dolls—

  Another tug at her foot stole back her attention.

  She turned to find Sebastian’s blue eyes studying her curiously.

  “Salmon fishing?” he repeated gently. She was grateful that he had the decency to interject surprise into his voice rather than pity.

  Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “Well, I had to try something.”

  After two weeks in London, she was having a grand time, almost as if living in a fairy tale, and all of it was so much more thrilling and exciting than she’d ever imagined.

  Except for Robert.

  He still treated her as nothing more than a younger sister, and she had yet to capture his interest. Or his attention. Annoyingly, she froze up whenever she was around him or said such inane things that he must have thought she was a goose. Salmon fishing…Oh, what a nick-ninny she was!