“He’ll want to know if you are getting married,” Quinn said.
“He always wants to know that.”
Roland tore open the letter and perused its contents.
Thorpe—
How do you get on? Have you proposed yet? If not, get on with it. At this point, I’ll welcome any lady with any sort of connection to a title at all. My ideas of shooting high have been knocked down by the ravages of time. I’ll even take a baronet’s daughter.
By the by, Charles has returned to our shores. He wishes to attend the London season. He writes that he is determined to wed so I have agreed to hand over Marshall Downs, as it is not entailed and he’ll need something to support a family. Do not let him beat you to the altar, you’ve got the advantage there—you’re to be a duke!
I told him he ought to go to the house, he’s got rooms there, after all. However, he was determined to lease a set at The Albany. I’ve paid for it, so I presume that’s where he’s gone. At least have him for dinner. The two of you may not be fast friends, but he’s your brother, after all.
I look forward to hearing you’ve contacted the archbishop for a special license!
Mariton
Roland laid down the letter. “Charles is here.”
Quinn glanced around as if he might find Roland’s brother hiding behind a sofa.
“Apparently, he wishes to wed and has come to Town to find his bride, so my father has promised him Marshall Downs,” Roland said. “Oh, and he thinks we should have him to dinner.”
Quinn downed his brandy. “If I know your brother, he looks at the marriage mart as some sort of competition between you. He’ll wed the first lady who will have him to be able to say he beat you to it. It will be a pointless victory to everyone and only of relevance to whatever goes on in his mind.”
Roland nodded. It was precisely what he thought himself. Charles was forever setting up competitions that Roland refused to participate in, and then proudly proclaiming himself the victor. He understood why Charles did so and he could not say what his own feelings would have been to go through life as the spare.
He sighed. He did not wish his brother ill. But he did not wish him in the same town either.
*
Charles surveyed hisset at The Albany. He’d known his father would come through for him. Very predictably, His Grace had at first insisted that he could stay in the Grosvenor Square house—his brother would be happy to see him.
Of course, Thorpe would be anything but glad to see him. He felt just the same. It would put him in a very bad frame of mind if he were forced to view Thorpe lording it over the household and him being only of second importance. Thorpe was the marquess and he was only Lord Charles. To be the second to land on the sheets was a thorn in his side that could not be pulled out.
It would further annoy him to be always in the same house with Quinn. That butler had been around forever in one capacity or another. The fellow was fond of handing out his counsel when nobody had asked for it. Or at least, Charles never asked for it.Thorpe seemed a willing enough pupil, though he could not see why.
A second son’s burden could not be remedied perhaps, but that did not mean he could not arrange things conveniently as he saw fit. The Albany would be very comfortable. From there, he could take his shots when the opportunity arose. He could be a thorn inThorpe’sside when he chose it. After all, his brother had all the luck—he ought to feel some heavy winds on occasion. He found it relieved his feelings to take the marquess down a peg.
He’d written the duke that while the offer to stay in the London house was very generous, he was afraid his presence in Grosvenor Square would make his brother too anxious. He would not like to fray the marquess’ nerves in such a manner, as they were so delicate to begin.
He’d said something like it a hundred times before. He was the bold one and the duke’s heir was…unfortunate.
A hundred ways to say he would have made an excellent duke, but there they all were, stuck with Thorpe. Thorpe, the boy who would weep for days after his horse had to be put down. The boy who was so upset over a house maid sent away after she was found to be with child that he’d gone into the duke’s library and stolen fifty pounds and taken it to her. The boy who, even after he was caught and punished, fretted that he might not have stolen enough for the girl. The man he’d become was just the same and he was ridiculous.
Of course, these days, Thorpe covered it up well enough to those who did not know him intimately. He’d grown far taller than anybody would have imagined and he’d filled out. Despite his penchant for weeping over the misfortunes of all and sundry, he’d managed to become a sportsman of sorts. He was particularly known for his swordsmanship. But most of all, Thorpe had taken on the mien of stern and reserved marquess. Charles knew what was underneath that mask, though. A full-grown man who would take on all the world’s tragedies and lament over them.
Charles intended to marry this season, not because he had a particular urge to do it, but because the duke had been pressuring Thorpe to do it for two seasons. It would be one more way to prove he was superior.
He gazed round the fine furnishings the duke had provided. He might not be the heir, but he was most definitely the favorite. He supposed Thorpe was made uneasy that he’d come to Town. He’d be uneasy that Charles could, at any moment, decide to relocate out of The Albany and into the house with him. The duke would have informed him of his younger brother’s determination to wed, which would make him uneasier still.
He was a second son, all the power he’d got was to make his older brother uneasy.
*
Though Serenity hadwished for time to slow down, it had gone by just as quickly as it always did. The morning of their departure had come sooner than was wanted, but it could not be made to go back to yesterday.
It had taken them hours and hours to get going, which she was not sorry about. Had Patience been on the scene, she would have lost her mind over it. Winsome hid Verity’s pelisse twice and Nelson had been a bit too clever in hiding Mrs. Wendover. The stuffed rabbit had finally been found in Mrs. Right’s sewing basket.
