Page 75 of Real Earls Break the Rules

How could this have happened? How could she have lost her head and her heart when Brandon touched her?

The duchess appeared in the doorway, her features twisted in a brittle expression as her eyes settled on Amelia’s disheveled appearance. Her nostrils flared in fury. “How dare you!” she spat. “On the eve of my daughter’s engagement no less.”

Amelia felt faint. Her thoughts immediately turned to her sisters. Her scandalous behavior could reflect badly on Chloe and hurt her chances of finding a titled husband. Eliza would be stunned and confused by it all. As if on cue, Eliza and Huntingdon appeared in the doorway.

Their shocked faces were even more telling than the furious glares of the duke and duchess. Amelia was ruined.

Everyone started arguing at once.

“Stop!” Brandon shouted.

Silence reigned like an ominous cloud. “You’re all correct,” Brandon said. “I was to announce my engagement tonight. But not to Lady Minerva. To Amelia. We are to marry by special license.”

No one spoke. Even the duke’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Amelia was the most stunned of all. He couldn’t possibly mean to marry to her. What would happen when the moneylender returned? What would become of the textile factory and the unentailed Rosehill land?

It was clear that Brandon was doing this to save her reputation, not because he wanted to marry her. Not because he loved her. It was inconceivable.

The duchess stormed off with a twirl of voluminous skirts. The duke followed his wife.

Brandon turned to the remaining man in the doorway. “Huntingdon, if you will meet me in my study, I’d like a word.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Huntingdon paced the Oriental carpet in the study and stopped in front of Brandon’s unfinished portrait. “I don’t believe it. You went behind my back and hired Amelia to paint you.”

Brandon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I apologize. But I needed her.”

“Needed or wanted,” Huntingdon snapped.

“Both. But if I’m to be completely truthful to you, I needed her to paint me a copy of this,” Brandon said, pointing to the Aelbert Cuyp painting resting against the wall.

Huntingdon walked to the Cuyp landscape, lifted the framed painting and studied it. His lips narrowed. “She painted you a forgery, too?”

“Not a forgery. A copy. It was completed days ago, and the original is on its way to America to be sold for a tidy sum.”

Huntingdon’s gaze was intense. “You need the money.”

“I wish it wasn’t true,” Brandon said. “Another of my father’s creditors showed. He will soon own the textile mill and some Rosehill land.”

“I wish I could help,” Huntingdon said. “My wealth is in my landholdings and not readily accessible. But I told you before that I can sell property and loan you—”

“I wouldn’t accept anything from you and you know it. That’s why I retained Amelia’s services. The copy of the Cuyp landscape will remain at Rosehill and my grandmother and sisters will never know the truth.”

Huntingdon’s eyes narrowed. “Shocking, but also very smart. I don’t know whether to congratulate you for your shrewdness or challenge you to a duel for ruining my sister-in-law.”

“I never meant to ruin her. I never meant to touch her. I lose all reason when I’m with her.”

Brandon expected a blow. Deserved it. But it never came.

His friend took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I felt the same way with Eliza. I was supposed to hunt down her father and destroy him. Instead I couldn’t keep my hands from his daughter.”

Brandon looked up at his friend.

“Were you really going to announce your engagement to the duke’s daughter tonight?” Huntingdon asked.

The thought of a forced proposal to Minerva still tormented Brandon. “No. I couldn’t do it.”