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It was all true. Jack was young, rich and without purpose. At least, he had been. Clayborn leaned back in his chair and watched her. “My brother hasn’t set foot in a gaming hell in three months.”
“Carrington likes drink.”
“He’s given it up.”
Her lips pressed into a straight line. “And women.”
At twenty-six years old, yes, his brother had done his fair share of carousing. “Again, he packed it in.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
Clayborn imagined her gaze shot daggers at him. “I assume we are to believe that is when he stopped drinking, as well?”
“In fact, it is.”
There was a pause as she watched him, and he resisted the urge to rip the veil from her eyes. “Why? What happened three months ago?”
He did not hesitate. “He fell in love.”
Her lips slackened for a moment beneath her veil, and she repeated, “Love.”
“Quite,” he said, as though it were enough.
“Well that’s sweet, but irrelevant to my report on this proposed match.” She set one gloved hand over the other on her file and returned her attention to the marchioness, who sat like stone, the only sign that she had heard the litany of items the tight grip of her fingers as she clenched her hands together.
After a long moment, the older woman said, “Go on, then. Is it your opinion that he will harm her?”
Adelaide hesitated and Clayborn clenched his teeth, anger thrumming through him. His brother was many things, and could be an absolute idiot at times, but he wouldneverraise a hand to someone weaker than he. “He willnot,” he bit out. “My brother is a changed man. He loves Lady Helene, which you would know if you had attempted to produce one of your files with more than a handful of records from gaming hells. He wouldneverharm her.”
A beat of silence, and then she said, “Spoken like a man who has never considered the woman’s lot in marriage.” The words were a straight shot of disdain, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise harshly intheir wake. “A woman cannot eat love. Cannot wear it. Cannot live in it.”
“It’s almost difficult to believe they call you the Matchbreaker.”
“It’s almost difficult to believe you’re a grown man,” she retorted. “As believing in love is for fairy tales and children.”
His brows rose.
Who in hell did this woman think she was?
Dismissing him, she turned back to the marchioness. “In my opinion, my lady, the man’s worst trait is his poor judgment, which could well impact Lady Helene’s happiness in the future. I am less concerned with his inability to remain out of debt—”
“I am quite concerned about thedebt!” The marchioness shrieked the word, as though it was a crime akin to murder. As though it came with a death sentence.
And for moneyed people, it did come with exactly that—especially when the debtor in question was to marry their daughter. Forget about love—no one ever expected titled daughters to love their husbands. Marriage, to them, was a business proposition. The merging of families. As though two great nations were joining forces.
“Oh for—” Clayborn began, barely biting off a rude remark. “Even if I was not keenly aware of the amount and location of every penny of my brother’s finances, I might remind you that Jack is my heir, and I have no trouble paying my debts.”
“Oh, please,” Lady Havistock said, suddenly full of all the steel that came with a matchmaking mother. “He shan’t be your heir for long. You’re soon to realize that you’re getting too old to catch a young bride who will actually want you, and you’ll snatch up the first pretty face you see.”
Well. Clayborn certainly could have done without thetoo oldremark. He had no intention of snatching up any kind of face, pretty or otherwise, but he did not say so.
Not even when Adelaide Frampton decided to offer her opinion. “The lady makes an excellent point, Duke. It’s a surprise I’ve not compiled a dossier onyou, what with your unflagging belief in love... surely there’s some poor woman out there willing to win your heart?”
“I’ve spent the better part of my time on earth dodging women looking to win my heart, as a matter of fact.” Silence fell in the wake of the words—words that made him sound like an absolute horse’s ass—and for the first time in his life, the Duke of Clayborn felt himself heat with... Christ, was thatembarrassment?
He refused to look at her, this infuriating woman who had tied him in knots twice that day. Not even when she said, in a voice dry as sand, “Truly, it’s almost difficult to believe you succeeded.”
