Page 58 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Brandon stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You looked at Amelia like you wanted to throw her over your shoulder and drag her off into the woods.”

Had he? It wasn’t a bad idea. He’d been unable to control his jealousy when he’d found Weston looming over her. Once again, the man had been gazing at her like a lovesick boy. Brandon’s fists had clenched and he wanted to pummel Weston and then carry Amelia off—not into the woods—but to his bed.

Huntingdon was right. He reacted like a possessive fool. He knew he had no claim on Amelia. But that was the problem. He wanted a claim. He wanted to make her his.

“You’re lucky not everyone noticed. But your grandmother and the duchess are both intelligent and sharp-eyed women. You better decide what you want.”

Brandon scowled at his friend. “I told my grandmother that I won’t be forced to marry anyone.”

“What of your father’s debts? Do you have a choice?”

His grandmother’s announcement to have a ball would be another added expense that increased his stress. He wished she’d discussed the matter with him first, but he also suspected the duchess had a hand in persuading the dowager.

“The textile mill has great potential,” Brandon said.

“I hope so for your sake,” Huntingdon said.

Brandon adjusted the gun on his shoulder and kept walking. They were to hunt partridge and pheasant this morning, just the two of them. Normally he enjoyed Huntingdon’s company, but he wondered at the wisdom of spending time alone with his friend today. Huntingdon knew him too well. It wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from his friend, and he felt guilty for misleading him.

They reached the end of the clearing and entered the woods. The foliage was thick here, and they continued until they reached a stream with an abundance of grasses, leaves, roots, seeds, and insects where the birds visited and fed. Twigs snapped beneath his boots. Sweat beaded on their brows in the afternoon heat, and they waited for the birds in silence.

“I can do it, dammit,” Brandon muttered. “Without a woman’s money.”

It was a matter of pride that he succeed on his own. He knew most men of his station wouldn’t give a second thought about marrying a woman simply for her money. But the thought made Brandon feel less of a man.

Huntingdon’s gaze sharpened. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“I know.”

“Then what else is addling your brains?”

At Brandon’s silence, Huntingdon gave a curt nod. “She’s driving you mad, isn’t she?”

Brandon didn’t bother to ask who. Huntingdon knew. “Why do you say that?”

“Only a woman can make a man act that irrationally. I should know.”

“You married Eliza knowing she was a forger’s daughter. The same forger who’d fooled you as an influential art critic,” Brandon said.

“I didn’t need what you do,” Huntingdon countered.

“You mean a large dowry?” Brandon’s tongue was heavy with sarcasm.

“Precisely.”

Brandon should curse his father, but he didn’t feel the common disgust that usually arose when he thought of his parent. The truth was he would never have retained Amelia for her artistic services if it were not for the mess the old earl had dumped upon him. He wouldn’t need a copy of the Cuyp landscape. He would have hired a Royal Academy painter to paint his portrait.

He’d never have gotten to know her. He’d never know of her dreams to paint the poor. He’d never have the pleasure of taking her to the factory and receiving her insights about the child labor problems.

He was not only highly attracted to her, but he liked and admired her.

She was, quite simply, the most remarkable woman he’d ever known.

He’d fix the mess with the debt. He was confident about the textile mill. It was just a matter of time before the power mills cooperated and the factory became profitable. And with Amelia by his side, he could accomplish it. He felt like he could accomplish anything.

He hadn’t been truthful to her. She’d stayed true to their arrangement, but he hadn’t told her everything regarding what he planned for the sale of the Dutch landscape. He hadn’t been truthful to Huntingdon, either.