The Art of Ruining a Rake (8 page)

No mining could be done, however, until the land encompassing the vast vein of granite was shown to be within their boundary.

Both of his brothers were in the room. Tony didn’t attempt to rise from Roman’s desk, despite the fact that he knew perfectly well he ought to be seated at his own.

Roman curbed his annoyance. There was no point in trying to do anything about the snub. Tony was Roman’s heir, and every bit as self-important as if he’d been born the marquis. He didn’t hide his preference for Roman’s seat of power. A defect of being a Member of Parliament, worsened by the full control Roman gave him over Plymbridge.

“It’s been two weeks,” Tony said. His fingertips rested on the page, marking his place in a long column of numbers. “What kept you?”
 

Roman slowed his pace lest his brother think he’d been rushing. He sauntered to the couch where Bart, Tony’s identical twin, flipped a page in the book he was perusing.

With the toe of his boot, Roman nudged Bart’s legs off the low table. Bart dropped his feet to the floor. But he smirked just enough to make it clear he’d kick up his heels again the moment Roman left the room.

Roman ignored that, too. He meandered in the direction of two desks set at right angles, where his heir was holding court.

“Am I late?” he asked Tony without apology, as though he hadn’t seen his brother’s scribbled order to come to Devon without delay.

Tony mocked him with a shake of his head. “Silly me. I thought you’d care to know the details of your deliverance.”

Roman strolled to Tony’s empty desk and leaned against the edge of it. Tony hated it when Roman sat on the edge of his desk.

“Oh?” Roman feigned indifference. “Did you find the old boundary map?”

Tony reached forward and retrieved a pamphlet. In bold letters across the front it read:
Ladies’ Companion Magazine
.

A cold hand squeezed Roman’s stomach. There was only one reason for his brother to keep up with tales from London.

Tony didn’t deign to look at the cover of the scandal sheet. He didn’t need to. His displeasure conveyed his desire to talk about the contents. “Please tell me you’ve made her an offer.”

Roman folded his arms across his chest. Immediately, he realized it made him look defensive, but it was too late to correct his posture without drawing attention to it. “Fortunately for me, she refused my suit. Now, about the boundary map—”

Tony wasn’t the sort to lose his temper. But he did have a way of looking disillusioned that made Roman feel as though he’d kicked a puppy. “She was caught
en dishabille
with you, and you want me to believe she didn’t jump at the chance to become your marchioness?”

Bart’s bark of disbelief did nothing to improve Roman’s mood.

“Are you implying I didn’t ask her?”

“Well, that has been your
modus operandi,
hasn’t it?” Tony leaned back in his chair.
Roman’s
chair. “This isn’t the first time. It’s not even the second. And, what with the way you upbraided Constantine for doing right by his pregnant mistress, marrying a girl you’ve ruined would be something of a change of heart.”

Tony’s disdain challenged Roman to test him again. “You know nothing of my heart.”

Tony squinted as if trying to decipher Roman’s mood. “So this isn’t just another scandal? You do mean to make Miss Lancester your wife?”

Blast it all, was her name really in the article? He was outraged on her behalf. “Confounded gossips. At least Miss Lancester might have been mentioned anonymously. Dragging an innocent’s name through the—”

“She wasn’t named,” Tony cut in. “How many schoolteachers in Bath do you think are sisters of our neighbor?”

Roman came to his feet. “That’s rather specific!”

Tony tossed the magazine toward him. “Are you telling me you haven’t read it? If I were you, I’d want to know what’s being said.”

Roman tossed it back. “I remember what happened.” Too late, he realized he could have given a less incriminating response.

Tony didn’t disguise his satisfaction. “Finally. With all the young ladies packed off to the country before her, I had no idea what I should think. Miss Lancester is almost family. I’m relieved you’re willing to accept responsibility this time.”

In three steps Roman towered over his brother. “Miss Lancester is the only one there has ever been. And don’t go lecturing me on responsibility. She didn’t want
me
.”

“Does she know how charming you are?” Bart drawled from the couch.

Roman scowled. She knew exactly how charming he was. “She may resent me if she likes. You
all
may think me a right cur. There is no defense for my actions.” He returned to the edge of Tony’s desk. Sitting was out of the question, but leaning gave him the pretense of control.

“There isn’t,” Tony stated flatly. “That doesn’t mean you wash your hands of her. She’s destroyed in the eyes of the
beau monde
. Unless she marries
you
.”

Roman’s heart turned over. “I already told you, she will not have me. There is nothing left but to respect her wishes.”

“You might consider courting her,” Tony shot back. “Maybe she will fall in love with you.”

If only he could! He’d never admit to Tony how much he wanted Lucy to love him.

He pretended to look about the room, as if searching for a sign of his brother’s nonexistent wife. “Sometimes one must accept that one’s attentions are not desired, as you have.”

“You misinterpret my esteem
for
the fairer sex for a failure
with
them.” Tony tapped his finger on the cover of the
Ladies’ Companion
. “These women deserve more than the heartache you put them through. I pray you will at least give the idea some thought. Now, to answer your question, we did find the map, no thanks to you.”

Roman refused to give Tony the satisfaction of his interest. He’d just been insulted, and he wasn’t sure he disagreed. There was nothing more galling than that.

But the silence stretched thin. And he needed to know. “Where?” he finally asked.

Tony shrugged. “Father had a safe in Town. Who knew?”

“And?” Roman was suddenly ravenous for information. He’d been careful not to assume the litigation would be decided in their favor. But if they had the map and the granite vein was within their borders, it would change their family’s fortunes forever.

“
And
there was a string of Mother’s pearls, and her wedding ring.” Tony smiled smugly. With dark hair and blue eyes, he was a handsome devil when he wasn’t patronizing the hell out of Roman.

Tony tapped the paper again. “Felt damned good to be able to give Mother something after all she’s done for us. Or do you think this has all been easy for her?”

Roman pressed his lips together. Their mother was, quite possibly, a saint. With five sons just years apart—for Tony and Bart were scarcely more than a year younger than Roman’s thirty-two years, and the second set of twins, Constantine and Darius, were not three years younger than them—she’d helped her sons out of quandaries no gently bred lady should know about, let alone experience. To bear those indignities atop the shame of a husband who’d gambled away the family fortune only made Roman admire her more.

“I don’t need you to lecture me,” he said, resenting the reminder that he’d embarrassed his mother on so many occasions. “What do you need me to do with the boundary map?”

Tony glanced at Bart. “What do you think, brother? Shall we end his misery or drag it on?”

Bart set his book aside. “Drag on. If he truly wanted to know, he’d have been with us, racing around England trying to track down Father’s solicitor. Not…whatever it is he was doing.”

“Yes, yes, I’m possibly the worst marquis in the land,” Roman replied impatiently. “That is no call for torturing me.”

Tony touched his fingertips together. “It won’t plague you if you leave everything to us. Truthfully, I see no point in involving you anymore. It will only delay us if we must hunt you down every time we require a stamp. Why don’t you turn your signet ring over and let us manage the business of it ourselves?”

The sapphire ring on Roman’s third finger sparkled as he flexed his hand. Hearing Tony’s sad opinion of him disturbed him almost as much as Miss Lancester’s listing his faults had. The difference was, Tony had never held any illusions about his competence. There had been a time, however, when Miss Lancester had looked at him with adulation.

“On occasion,” Roman said stiffly, “it must be recalled which one of us is the marquis and which is the spare.”

Tony’s light eyes turned to steel. “I never forget.” No sooner had the vitriol passed his lips than he swiftly recovered. “Nor do I jest about important matters. I consider this venture critical to the prosperity of our family.”

Roman pushed off Tony’s desk and took a threatening step toward his brother. “You think I don’t?”

Bart, too, came to his feet. He moved to stand across from Roman so the three of them formed a triangle. “I’m surprised to hear
you
say such things, Tony.”

“Stay out of it,” Roman started to say, before he comprehended Bart’s defense. As the only brother without a twin, Roman wasn’t used to being allied. He wasn’t sure what to make of having someone on his side, for once.

“You’re the one who thinks we can all make a difference,” Bart reminded Tony. “Why not Montborne? He’s not the ideal peer today, but perhaps you can make something of him.”

“I can’t accept a month’s delay every time we need to ask his opinion,” Tony replied. “If he’s going to be part of this, he must commit to staying in Devon until the project is underway.”

Bart nodded. “No vice or other distraction. It will take all of our concentration to succeed.”

Tony sat back in his chair. “He must rise with the cock’s crow. Be down for breakfast to plan our day. Never—”

“Ahem,” Roman interrupted, “I’m right here.”

Identical expressions of exasperation turned toward him.

Roman bristled. They didn’t believe he could do it. Yes, rising to take breakfast with them would be a challenge, but why not make a change in his life? Maybe he liked sunrise. How was he to know? Arriving home in a drunken, lovesick stupor like he did most mornings had never afforded him the chance to form an opinion.

And Lucy didn’t want him.

“Why don’t you think on it?” Tony folded his arms across his chest, perfectly at ease, as if he could be satisfied with the answer either way. “No need to make a hasty decision.”

Roman tugged his silk-threaded waistcoat down, then adjusted the starched cuffs of his shirtsleeves. He could think of no reason he couldn’t become the epitome of a fine, capable peer. He hadn’t received first marks at Cambridge, but he’d left with a diploma. He was quick-witted. What was it Miss Lancester had called him? Silver-tongued?

He was that. “I’ll do it. But if I’m to abide by your ridiculous mandates,” he moved around his desk so Tony was forced to crane his neck, “then you must adhere to mine.” Roman pointed at the supple leather wingback he’d inherited from his father. “Keep your arse out of my seat.”

Chapter 4

ONE WEEK LATER, Lucy arrived in Gloucester with all of her worldly possessions perched on the roof of a hired carriage. Just a short time ago, she’d looked forward to visiting her sister with anticipation. Now her beloved School for Accomplished Young Ladies was behind her, along with her carefully ordered existence, and her heart.

Following another half-day of wind-whipped travel, her carriage pulled before a narrow stone house. The stench of forging fire permeated the hack. Lucy huddled into her coat and tried not to breathe too deeply of the ironworks, but her shallow breaths only intensified her anxiety.
 

Her sister had five wards. Mr. Conley’s younger sisters, all unmarried.

Dear Zeus. She’d be lucky if Mr. Conley didn’t take one look at her and send her back to Bath post haste. What else could a man with five unmarried sisters
do
?

The carriage door opened. Lucy collected her satchel and jumped down, squishing her half boots into the freezing mud. A small stable peeked from behind the smithy, and a dormant garden bordered its right side. Mr. Conley’s three-story house would fit inside her brother’s foyer at Worston Heights, but there were flower boxes beneath the windows and fresh whitewash along the whole of it.