Page 5 of The Baronet’s Bartered Bride

“Anth is running tame in Hunsdon House and across the other ducal properties,” he added. “Well, running as fast as she might with that belly, considering she’s about to drop the ducal heir at any moment.”

Inez pressed her lips again. “She is not a mare producing a foal.”

He would admit he sounded like a jackanapes. Simply because Amaranthe, who had always claimed she was perfectly happy with her inks and her colors and her stodgy old manuscripts, had quite unexpectedly stumbled across a man who adored her, found three siblings in want of mothering whom she directly took in, then somehow unearthed proof that Malden Grey wasn’t the bastard everyone had supposed.

His sister, who had said more than once she expected to live her life in pleasant spinsterhood—and whom Joseph had assumed he would kindly provide for, giving her a room in his house and the privilege of looking after his offspring—had gone and secured herself a home and family, not to mention a title that increased her stature in the world considerably.

And what did Joseph have?

The dregs of his coffee were bitter even with the sugar dissolved at the bottom. “I wasn’t offered the Aldthorpe position,” he said. “Got turned out of the office as soon as they caught a whiff of the Duke.”

“Oh, that cannot be the reason,” Inez said at once, commiserating. “They could not be so foolish.”

He didn’t have to explain himself to her. She understood immediately what had happened, and what it meant. Few women were as discerning.

His sister was one of them, but Joseph frequently had the sense, even when he did the right thing, that Amaranthe vaguely disapproved of him. But there was no trace of scorn or condescension in Inez’s voice or expression. He was so accustomed to detecting it, he was surprised she should meet his eyes so steadily.

He already knew Inez was easy to converse with, and on serious subjects, when most girls her age had feathers in their head. When he had no other sounding board, she listened to him expound on length on what he was reading, the latest discoveries in natural philosophy, the latest historical theories.

But he’d never really paid close attention to her before. Not beyond what common courtesy demanded.

That shift in the room again, as if the earth had tilted.

He’d never permitted himself to look, frankly. Too concerned to hide the disconcerting physical effect she had on him with the liquid beauty of her eyes and hair and all that glowing brown skin.

He stared into the bottom of his cup as if it showed him his dark future. “The solicitor couldn’t push me out the door fast enough. Said I was overqualified, if you can conscience the irony.”

“They do not wish to risk angering a duke if they treat you poorly.” Inez buttered a thick slice of bread and handed it to him. “You do not know what it is like to live at the whim of the great.”

“I very well do,” Joseph said, indignant.

Her gaze swept him from head to toe, and despite himself he straightened his shoulders, broadening his chest. She was a servant in his home. He should not feel the need to prove his worth to her.

“You are a man,” she said, and bitterness laced her tone. “You are young and hale and handsome. You are the son of a gentleman, you were raised as a gentleman, and now you are brother to a duke.” She set her chin at a stubborn angle. “You have no notion what it is like to live knowing a single stroke of fortune—or the whim of another man—could take everything from you.”

“That’s not true.” Joseph sank his teeth into the bread, warm and surprisingly sweet. He’d been robbed of his parents, of half his family, in one cruel night. In some ways he still hadn’t recovered from the shock. And he lived at the whim of an employer, so he expected he understood what it felt like to live at the caprice of others, thank you very much.

For God’s sake, he had a Duke as a brother now. Everything Hunsdon did would reflect on Joseph. His very being cast a shadow over Joseph. How on earth was a man supposed to establish his own place in the world when he had to fight out from under the feet of a monument?

His mind clutched at, then skittered away from the observation that Inez had called him handsome.

She was his dependent. It was really not the done thing for him to confide in her, or for her to counsel him. He stuffed the last bite of bread in his mouth and chewed mightily.

He grew conscious that he was glowering at her, or rather, studying her intently. Inez drew herself up under his scrutiny.

“I don’t suppose you need be concerned at not being offered this post. You will find better, and in short order.”

Her English was proficient, nearly fluent, but an accent lingered. He wondered how long she had lived in London, and where she’d lived before then. He wondered where she lived in London when she wasn’t in his house.

He wondered if she knew she’d accidentally brushed flour into her hair, so one dusty white streak stood out against the silky black mass stuffed under her cap.

He wondered what man’s whims Inez was living under.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted.

Her look turned wary in an instant, from high summer to wintry frost. “What do you mean?”

He meant many things. What she was doing in this town, in his house, and what she was doing here, in the parlor, conversing with him as if they were intimate acquaintances. As if he were at liberty to confide in her, and she was at liberty to provide support.