He tossed his stained, sodden napkin onto the table, simmering fury bubbling behind his bland eyes. “Therewillbe a change, Matilda, and I, for one, cannot wait to see that smug smile smacked off your face.” He stood sharply, his crisp white shirt also splashed with dots of brown. “Soon enough, you will no longer be my responsibility. I will be taking care of the matter imminently.”
“What matter? Laundering that shirt of yours? What a mess you have made of yourself.” She tutted as if he were a child. She could not help herself. Just having James in her breakfast room, uninvited, unwelcome, made her want to spew venom until she had nothing left.
He smiled tightly. “The matter of your marriage. It will be dealt with sooner than you think, and I, dear cousin, shall be cheering the loudest at your wedding. Your father let you do as you please, but it is time for you to grow up, Matilda.” He stalked to the door, turning on the threshold. “And no, before you ask, this is not something you can prattle your way out of. The agreement is all but signed, and if I must lock you up and march you to your wedding myself, then so be it.”
For once, to her abject horror, he had seized the final word.
CHAPTERTWO
“Ididn’t ask you to join me back in England, so you could be my manservant, Lomax,” Albion grumbled, loathing the tilt and rock of the carriage. He much preferred the freedom of riding a horse, but his mother had insisted on the landau, and as a show of good faith, he had relented tosomeof her wishes.
Visiting Lady Matilda just happened to be another one of those concessions. He had still doubted the wisdom of exchanging a debt for a wife, but his mother had leaped at the opportunity, almost like she had already known of the entire arrangement and made up her mind to make it proceed as planned before Albion had even set foot on English soil again.
“A Duke must have a Duchess,” she had urged, parroting the solicitor. “The transition will be easier with a wife at your side, and this way, we do not have to parade you—I mean, we do not have to bother with as many society gatherings.”
His scars offended his mother, and she had made it clear with her accidental words that she did not think he would find a bride any other way but through an arrangementbecauseof his appearance.
Ben shrugged. “I’m enjoying myself.”
“I’m pleased someone is,” Albion said with a sigh.
“It’s not every day I get to see you attempt to woo a fair maiden, Captain. Whowouldn’twant to be at your side to witness the excruciating awkwardness?”
Albion had to laugh. “You’re not helping at all.”
“I didn’t say I was here to help. Indeed, you just said I wasn’t here to help you.” Ben grinned, and Albion envied his friend for that ease and affability.
Just like being any sort of respectable member of high society, those things were not attributes that Albion had been born with.
“Do you think you’ll actually do it?” Ben asked, balancing his ankle on his opposite knee. “Marry her, I mean.”
Albion grimaced but hid it quickly. “I don’t see why not.” He paused. “It’s a duke’s duty to marry. I’m a duke now, whether it feels real or not. As such, I must abide by the expectations that are resting on my shoulders, and though I don’t entirely trust my mother’s motivations, I can’t deny that she’s right; it’ll be quicker and simpler if I am married by arrangement. One task out of the way.”
“One task out of the way? You hopeless romantic, you,” Ben teased.
“Romance has nothing to do with this,” Albion replied sincerely. “I am upholding my duty and completing a transaction that my brother began for reasons that he deemed important. And if he deemed them important, considering his years of preparation for the role, so should I. He was the Duke; he was going to do this. I am the Duke; I must do this.”
Ben’s smile faltered. “You miss him.”
“I miss him.” Albion allowed himself a moment to be himself. “Today, most of all.”
As if he was an actor upon the stage, his words signaled their arrival at the gates of Montale House. They passed between sandstone pillars topped with sculptured vases, the carriage making its way down a winding driveway of white gravel, flanked on either side by mature mulberry trees. The plump fruits glistened in the summer sunshine, begging to be picked.
“Don’t even think about it,” Albion warned, noting the shine in Ben’s eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to do anything. Believe me, I know we’re not a law unto ourselves anymore. My own brother almost had my hand off for picking apples from the trees in the town square.” He leaned forward. “What do you think she’ll be like? What are you hoping for?”
“I hope she’s… nice,” was all Albion could think to say.
“Nice?” Ben pulled a face. “You can do better than that.”
Albion shrugged. “Quiet, maybe. Shy. A… good woman. Not someone who is bound to cause me a headache. Someone decent. ‘Nice’isthe best word I can think of. That’s all I require. Someone nice.”
Many of his men had been married, and though a couple had been happily married, eager to see their wives and children again as soon as possible, there had been plenty of cautionary tales and awful stories of unfaithful or demanding wives who made his men’s lives miserable, even countries apart.
He didnotwant one of those, especially as he would not have the chance to return to the battlefield andbecountries apart from his wife.
The carriage finally came to a halt outside a beautiful manor of slate gray stone with diamond-hatched windows that winked in the sunlight—a blend of Tudor and Georgian styles, so seamless and charming that it made Whitecliff Manor feel like a desolate, unwelcoming prison.
