The Duchess War (The Brothers Sinister) (30 page)

“And what will I have to give you in return?”

“Your allegiance.” He held her close. “For as long as we can stand one another’s presence, your body would be nice, too. I don’t expect love. I don’t expect you’ll want me forever. But I think that we could make a good go of it.”

“You don’t expect love.” She shook her head in confusion. “This is the second time you’ve said that. Is this going to be like one of those dreadful novels where you warn me not to fall in love with you, and if I do, then you’ll turn into Bluebeard and try to lop my head off? You’re handsome. You have all your teeth.” She looked into his eyes and lightly touched her hand to his cheek. He grew very still. “I can offer you no promises. If you’re any good in bed, I might fall in love with you. If that is going to be anathema…”

“No,” he said swiftly. He looked away from her, and when he spoke again, there was a slight rasp to his words. “No. That would be perfectly…unobjectionable.”

From his words, she might have thought him uncaring. But that catch in his voice and the way he tilted his head toward her again, gave the lie to his indifference. He looked at her like a thirsty man gazing on an oasis, trying to decide if it were an illusion brought on by the heat.

It made a sudden, impossible sense of everything.
He doesn’t want a loveless marriage. He’s just resigned himself to one.

His mother had said that Robert had the heart of a romantic. Minnie had been overwhelmed by other worries at the time, but perhaps the duchess had the right of it. He championed those who had no voice of their own. And for some reason, he had long since convinced himself that he would never be loved.

She was so close to falling in love with him that she almost opened her mouth and told him so. But that light in his eyes—the way he’d looked at her when he said it would be unobjectionable—it would be cruel to say it before it was true.

It will be true soon enough,
she thought.

Ever since her father’s betrayal, she’d scolded herself, saying that she’d brought what happened on herself for wanting too much. For daring to think that at twelve—as a girl—she could challenge grown men and walk away unscathed.

But maybe her mistake had been not trying hard enough.

“There is a great deal,” he said, “that a duchess can do that a young, unmarried lady cannot. Come be lucky with me, Minnie.”

The moment to open her wings was when she plummeted to the ground. If she didn’t try, it would be no surprise that the ground rose up and struck her.

For so long, she’d told herself that it was stupid to hope. But maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t see how her future would work out. But she could hope for love and safety, and maybe,
maybe
she’d not be slapped down for reaching for it with trembling hands.

“Oh, God,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m really going to do this.”

He let out a shaky breath of relief. “Good. Good.” His arm tightened around her, crushing her to him. He held her close and whispered in her ear. “I hope I’m good in bed.”

It was as close as he’d come to admitting that he wanted her to love him. Minnie smiled and kissed him. He tasted like salt spray from the sea. Her heart fluttered in her chest like the wings of a flock of birds.

“I hope you are, too,” she said shyly. And then she kissed him again, their hands locking together. She kissed him until the afternoon sun filled the room, until she grew light-headed from the feel. She held him and kissed him until Great-Aunt Caro stood by the door and cleared her throat.

Minnie blushed, but he stood.

“You must be one of Minnie’s great-aunts,” he said smoothly. “I’m Robert Blaisdell, the Duke of Clermont, and I should very much like to marry your niece.”

Chapter Twenty

R
OBERT RETURNED TO HIS HOME
and found his brother and his cousin both present, sorting through sheaves of foolscap, scribbled over. Part of Sebastian’s upcoming paper, from the notations on them.

They didn’t see him enter the room.

“So here’s another thing,” Sebastian was saying. “Why is it that tortoise-shell-and-white cats are nearly always female? Short of running a massive cat breeding program—”

He looked up as Robert came to stand by him.

“You’re going to become a purveyor of cats?” Robert asked with a smile.

Sebastian gestured widely. “I was just telling Oliver about my collection of curiosities. You know, things that I’ve observed that I can’t yet explain. There’s an eighty-year-old woman in London who starts every morning by feeding stray cats in an alley. I had her make sketches of the cats, along with descriptions—weight, sex, eye color, number of toes. All that interesting information. I thought something might come of it.” He cocked his head at Robert. “You look different.”

“I do?” He
felt
different. It was a newfound sense of wonder, a pleased confidence.

“You do,” Oliver said. “To be perfectly frank, over the last few days you’ve looked…”

“Like something that the cat dragged in,” Sebastian put in. “A six-toed cat. Did you know that six-toed cats have seventeen percent more claw?”

Oliver shrugged. “Like something that was dragged in by all of Sebastian’s strays. And
then
there was the staring off into space.”

“And the distressed sighs.” Sebastian demonstrated, heaving mightily and then deflating into a sad, stricken ball.

“Distressed sighs!” Robert protested. “Not once did I stoop to distressed sighs! I might have emitted a manly huff of oppression.” He demonstrated, folding his arms firmly and pressing his lips together with a half-grunt.

“Oh? Then what did you call this?” Sebastian stared off into the distance, a look of misery on his face. He gave a little sniffle and then let out his breath in a long, drawn-out sigh.

“I call that exaggeration. I call it perfidy! Death to any man who says such things!”

Oliver laughed. “You are feeling better, I see. So what brings on the change of mood? Did she agree to marry you after all?”

Robert blinked. “How…? But I didn’t even tell you I had asked.”

Oliver’s smile widened. “Ten pounds, Malheur.”

Sebastian gave what could best be termed a
distressed sigh.

“Yes,” Robert said quietly. “She agreed to marry me. The ceremony will be in four days. I’ve only to get the license and handle the settlements. I’m glad I found you together, because I wanted to tell you two first. I don’t know if you’ll understand, but…” He trailed off.

Neither of them said anything, and that companionable silence explained the matter more fluently than Robert could have. Sebastian could make a joke out of anything. Oliver was more than willing to mock him. But they knew when to do it and when to stop.

“If I have a family,” Robert said, his voice a little rough, “it’s you two. I was hoping the both of you might stand up for me at my wedding. Sign as witnesses. That sort of thing.”

“Of course,” Oliver said.

Sebastian shrugged. “I am precisely the person I would choose for such an honor, were I you. I applaud your good sense.”

Robert didn’t bother to try to work out what Sebastian meant by that. There was a moment—a very short moment—when Robert felt he might have hugged the two of them. He almost wanted to do it—to reach out and grab them and hold them close. They’d been there for him through the hardest moments in his life—his father’s funeral, the days that followed as he went through his father’s effects and discovered that the man had been even worse than he’d imagined…

In lieu of an embrace, he simply folded his arms. “It would mean a great deal to me.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, turning away from Robert, “you know what this means, Oliver. The two of us must now organize a wild, debauched party for Robert on the eve of his leg-shackling.” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

Oliver met his gaze calmly. “Wild,” he repeated. “Debauched. I am in complete agreement.”

Robert felt a hint of apprehension. “You know,” he said, “this is very kind, but not necessary.”

They ignored him, facing one another.

“Well, you know. Fit the punishment to the criminal, and all that sort of thing. It
is
Robert, after all.” Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, mussing it. “Now what will we do for women?”

“Really,” Robert said a little more forcefully. “I know I’ve not yet said my wedding vows, but I must insist that…”

But they weren’t paying him any attention. “I know just the thing,” Oliver said, brightening. “Mary Wollstonecraft. I have a copy of
A Vindication of the Rights of Women
in my room—I’ll be sure to bring that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian said, rubbing his hands together. “And there’s this letter I received by this curious woman from the United States—one Antoinette Brown. She wrote the most extraordinary things about evolution and women’s rights. I’ll bring that.”

“I have a pamphlet by Emily Davies.”

Robert’s lips twisted upward despite himself.

“I was thinking I could bring a copy of Thomas Payne,” Oliver said, “but that would make our numbers uneven.”

“Violet,” Sebastian said, with a wave of his hand. “She can be surprisingly handy in an argument.”

“Ah, I suppose she’ll do in a pinch.” Oliver stood, and set his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Let nobody say that the Brothers Sinister have no idea how to be depraved.”

“There shall be brandy!” Sebastian stood. “And we shall even drink it, although Robert will stop after two glasses because he always does.”

“There will be food!” Oliver declaimed, mirroring Sebastian’s stance. “And we shan’t drink that, because then we would choke.”

Sebastian grinned. “On the eve of your wedding, Robert, we shall offer you the sorts of female delights that you have always lusted after. Philosophical tracts upon philosophical tracts, all of them advocating political change that would result in an upheaval of the current social order. We shall set forth their essays, and then…” He paused, as if for dramatic emphasis. “Then, my friends, we shall argue about them!”

Robert smiled and looked away. “You two will be the death of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m not
that
bad.”

“Speaking of which,” Oliver said. His face went momentarily solemn. “Your wedding. Your father is no longer with us, and your mother does not…ah, does not always know her duties. I thought perhaps we might offer to help.”

Beside him, Sebastian nodded.

And here Robert thought that he’d considered everything already. He’d already decided on a wedding gift. He’d sent to London for attorneys to manage the settlements. But it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had missed something. There was so much about the notion of family that he simply didn’t know. “Help with…?”

Oliver leaned forward. “It’s about the wedding night,” he said earnestly. “About what happens on it. You need to know.” He lowered his voice dramatically. “When a man and a woman love each other, they come together in a very special way.”

Robert jabbed his brother with an elbow. “You,” he said, “are terrible.” But he was smiling, and he couldn’t stop.

“So.”

M
INNIE LOOKED UP FROM HER BREAKFAST
the next morning, just in time to see the Duchess of Clermont in the doorway.

Great-Aunt Caro began to struggle to her feet; Eliza had already jumped up. A maid trailed the other woman, wringing her hands ineffectually and trying to convey silent apologies for the intrusion.

But the duchess didn’t look at those other women. Her gaze fixed on Minnie.

“You’re marrying my son in three days. You know it will be a complete disaster.”

This woman, Minnie reminded herself, was going to be her mother-in-law for decades. It wouldn’t do to have her as an enemy.

It also wouldn’t do to have the duchess think her cowed. Minnie gave her the barest nod, as between equals. “Are you here to dissuade me? Demand a return of your five thousand pounds?” She lifted her chin and returned her attention to the toast on her plate. “I shall rip up your bank draught.”

The duchess snorted, sweeping into the room. She pulled back a chair for herself before the maid could jump to attention and then sat at the table expectantly.