Which was just one of a thousand ways in which he differed from his dead half-brother. But then, Luke had not only been the spare and twelve years his brother’s junior, but the offspring of a troublesome almost foreigner too, so it was hardly a surprise they had little in common. His mother was half-Spanish, the beautiful but fragile daughter of an ambitious count who was as ill suited to a life among the English aristocracy as Luke was. As a result, he had spent his childhood banished to his father’s neglected house in Cornwall with her after her mind failed and her erratic and emotional behaviour became an embarrassment. Where, much like the house, they too were largely neglected and forgotten.
Cassius on the other hand, as the heir apparent and as English as a briar rose, stayed in the capital with their father. He’d had the finest tutors, an education fit for a future marquess and had been schooled from birth to take over the illustrious reins and the extensive responsibilities a title entailed. Whereas Luke had been left to run riot, which he had from the first moment he could run.
‘I like that you are not the least bit like Cassius. You do not sound alike or look alike or share any of the same mannerisms.’ Her determined tone made his toes curl inside his boots because he knew what was coming. ‘And, of course, you and he were virtual strangers...’ A polite way of saying they were mortal enemies. ‘Which certainly makes this less awkward.’
‘Not for me it doesn’t.’ He had tried to sidestep this discussion last night after she had ambushed him in the carriage after convincing him to attend the damn ball. When that failed, she had subjected him to a lengthy lecture on the supposed benefits of their union, and had dismissed all his objections deftly out of hand until he had reluctantly agreed to sleep on it, hoping it wouldn’t just shut her up, it would make it go away. But Abigail had spent the last thirteen years as the Marchioness of Thundersley and had made up her mind it would be best for all if she continued in the role—irrespective of all his reservations. ‘I simply cannot and will not marry my brother’s wife. I’m sorry.’
Although he wasn’t. He was horrified. So disgusted at her proposal he could barely look at her now without curling his lip in distaste.
‘Can we at least have a sensible discussion about it? I should like to properly understand your reservations.’ As far as he was concerned, they had already said everything which needed saying, although clearly she hadn’t listened to a damn thing he had said during that dreadful, interminable carriage ride.
‘Well for a start you were married to my brother.’ Which did not seem to be a hurdle as far as she was concerned, but an unsurmountable one which Luke found supremely distasteful. It was true he and Cassius had been virtual strangers for the entirety of his life. They had had nothing in common except their father’s unusual height and, on the rare occasion they were forced to meet, they had clashed over pretty much everything—usually his mother and the abysmal way she was treated. ‘Which is morally wrong and probably against the law anyway.’ If it wasn’t, it certainly should be.
‘It is actually not against the law of the land, I have researched it extensively, Lucius.’ Of course she had. He could imagine she had been very thorough about it all too. She was the sort. From the moment he had received her letter informing him of his brother’s sudden and unexpected demise in a carriage accident six months ago, she had treated widowhood as more of a great personal inconvenience than a tragedy. If she grieved anything, it seemed to be the loss of her status. Luke certainly hadn’t witnessed her shed a single tear. ‘Half-siblings are not explicitly mentioned in the Impediments of Affinity and so therefore there is no real legal recourse.’ As he suspected, it was dubious. Not that her argument made any difference. It would be a cold day in hell before he stood at the altar with her!
‘They don’t need to be explicit if they are implied.’
She smiled, looking smug. ‘A good lawyer can always find the devil in the detail and the house of Thundersley can well afford the best. I suppose it might be different if there were inheritances at stake and children, but obviously that will not be a problem for us because Cassius and I had no children.’
Several physicians had had to attest to the fact her womb was finally empty before they had officially granted Luke the title only a month ago because Abigail had clung to the belief she might be pregnant all that time. Whether she had believed it, or whether it had been a delaying tactic to prevent him inheriting, he had no clue but he was certain that nobody had been more devastated about the absence of an impending heir than he had been. The last thing he had wanted to do was upheave his life in Cornwall, temporarily abandon his mother and the slate business he had built from scratch, and step into his brother’s ill-fitting shoes. But upheave it all he had. Four weeks into official nobility and those damned uncomfortable shoes pinched like the devil. He loathed feeling restricted and hated feeling trapped, yet trapped he was again thanks to the fresh burden of additional responsibilities he didn’t fully understand which came alongside the blasted title he didn’t want—and apparently Abigail was one of them.
‘The lack of children was Cassius’s fault by the way...not mine.’ He winced at the intimacy of the confession. ‘Your brother wasn’t the most ardent and virile of husbands...’ Luke wanted to stick his fingers in his ears, scrunch his eyes closed and run screaming from the room. ‘Getting him to visit my bedchamber was like drawing blood from a stone. On the odd occasion when he did...’
He held his hand up frowning and shook his head, his entire body now so tense with awkwardness it was making all his muscles ache—including the one between his eyebrows. ‘I really do not need to know any of that, Abigail.’ And he certainly didn’t want to have to picture it.
‘No... I suppose not.’ She stared down at her hands. ‘But I am still young enough to bear your heirs, if that is what is bothering you.’
‘It really isn’t.’ Heirs was probably number nine hundred and ninety-nine on his extensive list of objections.
‘Good—because my physician has assured me I am in the best of health and ripe and ready to carry your children.’Oh, good grief!She was like a dog with a bone. ‘And while the church might frown upon our union in principle, I am sure we can find a vicar who will marry us. Perhaps one in Cornwall who knows you well and would be sympathetic to our plight?’
‘I don’t.’ And it was her plight, not his. He was tempted to shout that from the rooftops but the few scant manners which had been drilled into him meant he couldn’t quite bring himself to bellow his utter disgust at a woman. ‘I am not in love with you, Abigail, nor do I harbour any romantic feelings towards you whatsoever.’ He couldn’t say he particularly liked her much either. Like his brother and his sire, his sister-in-law was cold, disdainful and disapproving, more concerned with rank and status than substance.
She laughed at that, an annoying, tinkling, false titter which let him know in no uncertain terms she did not even consider love a consideration. ‘Love rarely features in a society marriage, Lucius, at least not to begin with.’ As if he hadn’t witnessed that first-hand! Love hadn’t featured at all in his parents’ long-distance union. ‘Although I am sure a mutual regard will grow if we give it time. It’s not as if I am proposing we marry tomorrow. That would be outrageous.’ She laughed again—part scoff, part outright dismissal as if he were the one suddenly in a great hurry to be wed. ‘I still have five long months of half-mourning left before I am free.’ Which beggared belief when Cassius was barely cold in the ground. Not that his brother had been particularly warm to begin with.
He had been as dictatorial and standoffish as their father had been, but significantly more callous about his familial responsibilities. At least his standoffish sire had initially tried to fix all the things that went wrong before he lost interest. Cassius had only wanted revenge for the fact his father had married Luke’s unsuitable mother in the first place.
Abigail squeezed his hand, apparently oblivious that the contact made him cringe. ‘Five months gives us plenty of time to get to know andappreciateone another properly as a husband and wife should.’
All the hairs stood up on the back of his neck at that implication. Yet that same ingrained politeness which stopped him shaking her by the shoulders and telling her she was clearly stark staring mad, also prevented him from admitting that he found absolutely nothing about her attractive either. Abigail’s petite and delicate blonde prettiness did nothing for him. Her needy, clingy and manipulative character did less. He liked his women to have some fire, honesty and curves, like the delicious redhead from last night.
Now there was a woman who had heated his blood with no effort.
Even three sheets to the wind, and reeling from shock, the mere sight of the Miss Hope Brookes had been like a punch in the gut and it would likely take months for him to stop thinking about the way she had tasted. That tart mouth of hers had been plump and passionate and she had filled his arms to perfection. And felt delightfully robust in them too. He could see himself happily rolling around in the grass with Hope if he ever found the time again for a quick dalliance. If he could muster up the enthusiasm to do that with Abigail, which in itself would take a blasted miracle, he’d likely break her in the process.
Instead of saying any of that, he gently extracted his hand from her clutches and attempted to be diplomatic again, exactly as he had been last night. ‘I am afraid I feel no desire for you either...and likely won’t as you are and always will be my sister-in-law.’ Practically incest no matter what the law had to say, when he knew he would never feel comfortable in his brother’s house let alone in his blasted wife!
‘I lived without desire throughout my marriage, Lucius.’ Then to his horror she reached for his hand again and stroked her fingers over it in seductive invitation. ‘But I suspect desire will not be a problem for us. I developed a few tricks which always worked on Cassius...’
This time, Luke pulled his hand away hard in case she finished that awful sentence. ‘No, Abigail.’
Her features hardened and her lips thinned, making her look cold and mean and he couldn’t help but uncharitably think that this was perhaps closer to her real nature than the façade she had been showing him. ‘To what specifically?’
‘To all of it. I am sorry, but my mind is made up. Whatever tenuous legal loophole you think you have unearthed, I will not marry my brother’s wife.’ He stood, suddenly desperate to be rid of her. ‘Under any circumstances.’
‘Even though I will be an asset to you?’ She was relentless and, exactly as last night, worryingly determined in her quest. ‘Do you know how to manage an estate and an extensive investment portfolio? Do you understand Parliament? The nuances of society? I could assist with all those things.’
It galled that she thought him an idiot, not that she would have any concept of the life he had carved out for himself in the wilds of Cornwall. Cassius had never bothered enquiring how he kept food on his mother’s forgotten table or clothes on her back or paid for her medical bills or for her constant nursemaid after he had rescued her from the hellhole his brother had shoved her in. After their father had died, her meagre allowance stopped overnight. Apart from the dilapidated house and the exhausted tin mine which had been bequeathed to Luke in the will, he hadn’t received a penny since the day the old man died either. Although the self-centred old curmudgeon had been reliably stingy with those pennies when he had been alive. Luke’s paltry allowance, or guilt money as he preferred to call it, got swallowed up in all the other monthly household bills and any pleas for more fell on such deaf ears he had learned not to ask well before his years ran into double digits.
