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A man like me, with my pick of women, choosing her? Anyone would find it ridiculous. And I like to do things that people won't suspect me of doing. It makes living easier if nobody can accuse you of doing something that's out of character for a grand fellow like yours truly. Being unimpeachable is a key part of how I'm going to take my brother's title from him without him even knowing it.
Yeah, I've got plans.
But right now they don't extend too far beyond figuring out what it's going to take to get into Miss Bell's panties. And from there, figure out how far I can push her before she breaks.
I give her one last look over the CCTV, that familiar, hungry feeling in my cock starting to warm up. It's been a while since I've had a woman I thought I could bend over my brother's desk and thoroughly fuck until she couldn't move.
My brother's desk. I smirk. That's a great idea. He deserves it too, the prick. That desk will be mine one day anyway, so I'm just taking what I'm owed a little early. There's nothing wrong with anticipating that transfer of power with a little game with the new nanny.
My phone buzzes, CCTV feed interrupted, and it's the man in question.
Mason. Ugh. I wait, three rings, four rings, five, until I know he's getting frustrated on the other end.
Then I answer.
"What do you want?" I ask, shoving my free hand into my pocket. I need to get up into my rooms, and relieve a bit of this pressure I'm feeling. But I don't want to think aboutthatwhile I've got my brother on the phone.
Or while he has me on the phone. However that works.
"Do you know how much it's costing to clean up after your brawl down in North Hollywood?" Mason sounds more than irritated. He's got that tone of voice like he's gearing up for a big rant on responsibility and respecting my titles, which I'm frankly, not fucking available for right now.
I'll drop my phone down the nearest well rather than sit through another speech from him. Like he's got any room to talk. He's the worst culprit when it comes to disrespecting his duties. The fact that his duchess is—
"BENEDICT!"His roar shakes the phone from my hand, and I do drop it, but not on purpose. I scoop it up off the ground, sighing when I see cracks spidering across the glass. I'll need a new one, and my valet willtskat me for breaking a second phone this month.
The first got trampled under my horse's hooves. Not like I could have prevented that. And it's also not like we can't afford it, either.
"I'm here, I'm here," I say hurriedly. I'm walking on thin ice with him, and if he's feeling nasty he'll cut me off for a few months. Fucker.
"The owner of that establishment is related to the Earl of Beverly Hills," my brother says, now that I've got my phone back to my ear.
"Ol' Bevvie? Why didn't you say so? I'll swing by with some whiskey. We've got some good bottles in the vault—"
"He ispersonallyinsulted," Mason says and I roll my eyes because nobody's around to see me as I walk back up to the main house. I could've taken one of the carts, one of the dirt bikes, or an ATV. Hell they would've pulled a limo or a horse-drawn carriage out for me if I'd wanted.
But what I really want is the sun beating down on me, and feeling like I can breathe air that hasn't been filtered a hundred times before getting to my lungs.
I wanted the real world for a minute. As much as our massive acreage of an estate could be considered 'real'.
"Bevs is always up his own ass, I'll deal with it," I say, and I feel a little bad. Bartholomew Dankworth, Earl of Beverly Hills, or Beverly or Bevvie or Bevs to his friends, isn't a bad guy even though he has the most unfortunate name. I got the better end of the deal with a B-name.
I had no idea he had a cousin down in the slums, though.
I'll need to have her sent flowers, or something. My valet can handle that. He's infinitely useful.
"I'll deal with it," I promise Mason, and he's silent. I can feel him on the other end of the line, silently judging me. Well, he can do that all day. He can rot in his feelings for me. We've turned animosity toward one another into an art form.
He hates me for everything I don't do 'up to standards', and I hate him for standing in my way. He's between me and the duchy. If there'd been any fairness in the universe, I'd have been firstborn and he'd have been second.
I'd be a better duke by a measure, rather, Iwillbe a better duke, because as it stands there's no way he and his duchess are producing an heir this century.
And I'm just running down the clock until I'm running the show.
When it's me in charge, everything's changing. My niece'll be taken care of, that's for sure. I won't leave Maddie out to dry. Just because she's the spawn of my older brother doesn't mean she needs to be punished for it. She's just a kid, anyway. She has no say in anything, and she's lucky that I give enough of a shit about her to make sure she's okay once I'm in charge.
Most dukes-in-waiting aren't nearly that fair. If my brother had produced a heir, Maddie's position in the world would be in trouble. As it stands, I have no problem fixing it so she wants for nothing even if she chooses a life of spinsterhood.
Bad shit happens when noble women are forced to marry to save themselves. And I'm determined that'll never fucking happen to Mads.
