Project Duchess. Sabrina Jeffries
to my aunt or the other ladies.” When he bristled, she added hastily, “But don’t get your dander up. I’m not asking you to do anything more for them.” She thrust her hands behind her back to hide how her fingers were already forming fists. “I merely need to inform you of something they’re planning to do for me. Unless the gentlemen already mentioned it yesterday?”
His frown vanished. “No, no one mentioned anything. Thankfully, they spoke to me very little.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she said dryly. “You’re always so amiable in company.”
To her surprise, he laughed, which was rare enough that it heartened her. Perhaps this would go better than she’d feared.
“Anyway,” she went on, forcing some softness into her voice, “Aunt Lydia wishes to help me have a come-out. Along with Lady Gwyn.”
His amusement vanished as myriad other emotions washed his face, none of them readable, even to her. “A come-out,” he said dully. “In London society.”
“Of course, ‘in London society.’ Where else would it be? It’s hardly considered a come-out if I show up at an assembly in Sanforth, not that I ever could, since you won’t accompany me.”
“Your precious aunt Lydia could accompany you,” he said snidely. “Or even that Lady Gwyn woman, now that they both live at Armitage Hall.”
She stepped close to hiss, “Before long, they may be living in our house, and we may be living in the street. Once Sheridan takes a wife, he might wish to move Aunt Lydia into the dower house. And then where will we be?”
Looking away, he rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin.
“At least I am trying to endear myself to them,” she went on. “Not that it’s any great trial. They’re nice people. They treat me like family. And they don’t go hieing off to places at any hour of the night to do Lord knows what without a word to anyone. Nor do they expect their sisters to hang about for years, futilely hoping for some . . . some future beyond—”
“Enough, Beatrice.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “If you want a come-out, have one. I’ll see if I can’t . . . scrape together some funds.”
“You don’t need to. My aunt says she can afford to pay for mine since Thornstock is paying for his twin’s. Indeed, both Aunt Lydia and Lady Gwyn seem eager to help me gain a husband.”
“Which is all you want, isn’t it?” he said bitterly. “To get away from me.”
Of course he would see it like that. “I want to have a life, blast it! Yes, I want a husband and children to love and a home of my own that I can be sure won’t be pulled out from under me! Is that so unreasonable?”
He gaped at her, clearly thrown off by her fervent expression of her true desires, which she did try to hide around him, because she never knew what might set him off.
“It’s not unreasonable,” he finally said, tightening his hand on the head of his cane. “I just wish you would find a husband here, in town.”
“Yes, because there are so many young men around with a war on.”
The minute he went rigid she regretted mentioning the war. “Right,” he snapped. “All those men off serving their country while I hobble around here—” He caught himself. “Forgive me. I’m merely . . . annoyed that I can’t be the one to help you gain what you want. To ensure you have a proper debut.”
That stuck a pin in the balloon of her anger. “Oh, Joshua. I know where your heart is. I do.” She couldn’t resist lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. When he shied away from the affectionate gesture, she stifled a sigh and dropped her hand. “And it’s not as if you could do it on your own, anyway. I must have a woman present me. It’s really very kind of our aunt to offer.”
“Very kind, indeed,” he bit out. “That lot is nothing if not ‘kind.’”
The way he said it gave her pause. “What is that supposed to mean? You’ve barely spent time with our aunt, you ignore Sheridan, and you haven’t even met Lady Gwyn.”
“None of them has ever given a . . . bloody damn about what happens to you until now, and suddenly they show up offering you a debut in good society? Mark my words, they have some ulterior motive.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
Somehow she had to get her and Joshua out of this place, find somewhere more secure, where he could flourish. . . where she could flourish. Because right now they were dying a slow, miserable death amid the debris of Papa’s scandalous actions and Joshua’s deep wounds.
She was so sick of it. “Are you saying you won’t approve the scheme?”
The bleak anger in his hazel eyes made her want to cry. To her surprise, he said, “Of course I’ll approve it.”
She threw her arms about his neck, unable to keep from touching him. “Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re the best brother ever!”
Though he stiffened a bit, he didn’t push her away as he usually did. But he did say gruffly, “It isn’t as if you’re giving me much of a choice.”
She hugged him close. “I always give you a choice, Brother. As long as you make the right one.”
When she drew back, he was actually smiling. “I swear, duckie, you are growing up too fast.”
He hadn’t called her “duckie” in an age. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not only fully grown but rapidly approaching spinsterhood.”
“Nonsense. Any man with eyes can see you’re a diamond of the first water.”
“A diamond in the rough, perhaps,” she quipped. “And apparently, only blind men live around here.”
“Except our cousins, right?” Before she could answer, he added, “Very well, go on out into the great, wide world. I shan’t stop you.”
“You could accompany us to London,” she said on a breath. “I’m sure our aunt wouldn’t mind. And you deserve to be out in society, too.”
He scowled. “There is no way in hell I’m going near that cesspool. And trust me, no one wants me there, poking at all their pretensions.” He shoved his free hand in his coat pocket. “You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll have more fun without me. Just . . . well, I hope you’ll return here occasionally once you’ve taken some fine fellow for a husband.”
“I’ll be here so often you’ll be sick of me,” she said.
Still, she earnestly hoped that her “fine fellow” of a husband could help her discover a better post for her brother. One that made use of his education and experience and banished the sorrow in his eyes.
Because he deserved better. And by God, so did she.
* * *
Grey stood outside the gate to the kennel, noting the sounds of dogs barking as Miss Wolfe greeted each by name. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her and her brother. He’d come looking for her partly out of restlessness and partly out of a desire to get started on Sheridan’s damned assignment.
But then he’d overheard them arguing and had figured he might as well find out what he could, if only to pacify Sheridan. Grey had met Wolfe at the funeral, but he’d only had the chance to notice a few things. Wolfe was better-looking and more gentlemanly in appearance than Grey had expected, given his profession. Sheridan hadn’t been wrong about Wolfe’s arms, either—the major was built like a wrestler. He might walk with a cane, but it clearly didn’t keep him from working with his hands. And he was tall, too, though Grey had anticipated that since Beatrice wasn’t exactly short.
Still, other than noting aspects of Wolfe’s appearance, Grey had gleaned little, since he and the major had scarcely spoken two words to each other.
At least eavesdropping