Page 29 of Real Earls Break the Rules

The duke raised his glass. “To the old earl.”

Brandon sipped his drink. His father and the duke had been friends since attending Eaton as boys. Brandon had heard stories of their youthful antics for years. But the stories had ended upon both men inheriting their titles. Thereafter, the duke had matured and discovered a head for business whereas his father had not.

“It’s good to be here. I’ve always preferred the country to the city. Never did like the crowded and overheated ballrooms or the endless parties and soirees of the Season.” The duke glanced toward his wife in the corner of the drawing room. “Unlike the duchess.”

“Ah, she didn’t want to attend the house party?”

The duke snorted. “Hardly. This was one trip to the country she was eager to make.” The duke’s thin lips curled at the corners, the closest thing Brandon had ever seen resemble a smile on the man’s weathered face. “My daughter, Minerva, has something to do with the duchess’s eagerness, of course.”

Brandon raised his glass and swallowed. He didn’t need to bring up the loose agreement between his father and the duke. The fact that his grandmother kept badgering Brandon to act upon it by proposing marriage to Lady Minerva was bad enough. The duke was a shrewd man, and he must suspect Brandon’s money troubles. Yet he still wasn’t opposed to the match. The duke had more money than he could spend in a lifetime, and he knew Brandon wasn’t a spendthrift like his father.

He also knew his daughter was not a beauty.

Brandon hadn’t seen the duke’s daughter for months, and he’d hoped he’d feel differently about her when she arrived at Rosehill. But he hadn’t. True, she wasn’t very attractive, but that could be overlooked. It was her annoying tendency to gaze up at him like he was the sun and the stars. Not to mention her lack of intelligence. He understood that someone may not like all of Shakespeare’s works, but to find every one dreadfully boring?

And Hamlet happened to be his favorite.

The drawing room door opened and the remaining ladies entered the room. Caroline and Helen looked lovely in pale pink and violet gowns. Lady Minerva was dressed in a cream gown with layers of silver tissue and a rounded bodice that emphasized her large breasts. But it was the last lady to walk into the drawing room who captured Brandon’s gaze.

Amelia turned heads in a simple gown of emerald silk. Unlike the dress she’d worn to his study the first night, the fine quality silk hugged her curves. From the first moment he’d seen her over a year ago at the Peacock Print Shop, she had enchanted him. He’d wondered for a long while if his interest would wane when he saw her again, but it was stronger than before.

Before he knew what he was doing, he started walking away. “Pardon me, Your Grace.” He strode to Amelia’s side. She was standing in the corner talking to Caroline, Minerva, and Huntingdon’s sister, Lady Sara.

He bowed deeply. “Good evening, ladies. You all look lovely.”

His gaze lingered on Amelia, and he envisioned her in her work gown as she’d sketched him with charcoals the previous evening. She’d appeared beautiful to him then, but tonight, she looked exquisite with her hair in an elegant coiffure with loose curls surrounding her heart-shaped face. Tendrils of red glinted in the strands from the dozens of candles in the chandeliers.

Minerva stepped between the two. “I’ve seen some of Rosehill, my lord. Is it true it has twenty guest suites and four wings? And that it has a half dozen working fountains?”

Dragging his gaze away from Amelia, he forced himself to smile. His head spun as he focused on Minerva’s lips. The last time he’d seen her, she’d spoken too rapidly and too much. Matters were unchanged.

He decided to answer the last question first.

“Counting the one by the twin gazebos, Rosehill has ten working fountains,” he said.

“Will you show them all to me?” Minerva asked eagerly.

A tour of the gardens with the duke’s daughter was not a task he relished. At least not with her. He’d love to walk Amelia around the gardens and show her the unique trees and plants and decorative fountains on Rosehill’s grounds.

He was saved from answering when his butler, Smithson, finally entered and announced that dinner was served. Brandon was relieved to escort his sisters into the dining room. Minerva and the duchess were escorted by the duke. But Brandon’s relief was short lived when Newchester’s younger brother, Lord Emmett, offered Amelia his arm.

Rules of etiquette had to be followed. His grandmother the dowager sat closest to Brandon, along with the duke and duchess and Lady Minerva. Then came the rest of the titled guests. Which left Amelia and Chloe seated farthest away from the head of the table.

Brandon knew the Marquess of Newchester’s younger brothers from both White’s and Brook’s. Brandon liked Newchester and approved of the match between the marquess and his sister, Helen. As for the marquess’s brothers, he had mixed feelings. Weston was studious and serious and always spoke of upcoming bills sponsored in parliament. Emmett was an arse who gambled and drank far too much. He reminded Brandon of his own father. He’d never minded either man in the past. He’d talked politics with Weston and drunk with Emmett.

But it was the way Emmett was staring at Amelia—like it would take great effort to tear his gaze from her—that made Brandon’s blood boil.

Sandwiched between the duchess and the dowager, he struggled to fake interest in the never-ending stream of mundane topics they discussed. His gaze kept straying to the far end of the table.

Blast. Emmett leaned close to Amelia as he spoke, his hand brushing her arm below her sleeve.

“As I was saying, my lord, Minerva has taken to the pianoforte.”

“Pardon?” Brandon turned his attention to the duchess.

“Her music instructor raves she is one of his fastest learning students.”

“Is that so?” he said, hoping he sounded more interested than he was.