The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(10)

She clutched her reticule. “I’ll ask Nora for her recommendations, and if you decide you’d rather work with her, I’ll understand.” She started toward the door, and he joined her.

“I said I wanted you to help me. Are you trying to shirk the task? Perhaps you have something better to do.” His gaze lingered on her, suffusing her with a touch of heat. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I’m not trying to shirk anything. And as it happens, I don’t have anything better to do.” She winced inwardly at how pathetic that sounded. She’d been far too idle since Matthias’s death. Perhaps she did need something to do. She suddenly thought that she could be his governess. Evie was an adorable child…

“Good. I’ll see you soon, then.” He gestured for her to precede him from the office and then followed her a short way until the butler met them and offered to show her out.

Jo turned to say goodbye to the earl, but he was already walking back to his office. His waistcoat was superbly fitted, hugging the muscles of his back and leaving no question as to his fitness. She’d never seen a naked male back—Matthias had always left his shirt on when he’d joined her in the bedchamber.

As she left Knighton’s town house, she realized she would likely never see a nude male back, unless she had an affair or married someone who didn’t want children or already had an heir. She wouldn’t count on either of those things happening, however. She’d learned at an early age that life was full of disappointments. She wouldn’t expect things to change now.





Chapter 3





Bran stepped into Brooks’s, feeling a bit tentative. He’d never been in a gentleman’s club before. He’d left England before he’d had the opportunity. His brothers had certainly never invited him to join them. They’d gone out of their way to exclude him whenever possible, and their parents hadn’t encouraged them to do otherwise. In fact, their mother had specifically told them they would do better to ignore their younger, ill-mannered, defiant brother.

The air was thick with the scent of candles and the sounds of conviviality coming from the famous subscription room. A footman greeted him, and Bran shook off the dark, painful memories.

“Good evening,” Bran said. “The Duke of Kendal is expecting me.” The duke had invited him, and while Bran might’ve preferred to decline, he had to accept his new role. Forming an association with a duke would be beneficial. In fact, the association would happen whether Bran wanted it or not since his daughter had decided that the duke’s daughter was the only good thing about England.

It seemed important that Bran attempt a friendship with the girl’s father. Because, at the end of the day, he’d do anything for Evie.

The footman led Bran through the subscription room. Around him, men sat at tables conversing, drinking, gambling. A few looked up as he passed, their features registering a myriad expressions, none of which were recognition. Bran was exceedingly glad he wouldn’t be meeting the duke in here. It was far too crowded and Bran would likely grow agitated quickly.

Just before they reached the stairs, a man jumped up from one of the tables and intercepted Bran. “Knighton, isn’t it?”

Bran didn’t know the man. “Yes.”

The gentleman, slender and dark-haired with an affable smile, glanced toward the table he’d just left. “We thought that’s who you were. I’m Talbot. I knew your brothers. Good, friendly chaps. We miss them a great deal.”

An instant shaft of dislike sliced through Bran. If this man—and the others—had been friends of his brothers, he wasn’t disposed to want their company. Furthermore, “good” and “friendly” were not words Bran would’ve used to describe John and Wynn. Born a scant twelve months apart, they’d grown up inseparable, to the point of brutally excluding their six-years-younger brother. It wasn’t that they’d just ignored him. They’d gone out of their way to ensure he knew he wasn’t wanted, that he was outside their brotherly circle. And never mind the girl who’d come ten years after Bran. John and Wynn had been long gone by then, of course, off on their grand tour, which they’d taken together. Bran hadn’t even had a grand tour, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, he’d simply booked passage on a ship, not caring where it took him, provided it was far away from here. From them.

“Thank you.” Bran could think of nothing else to say. He supposed John and Wynn may have matured into kinder men, but he doubted it. They’d never once sought to foster a relationship. While his sister had written to him intermittently, John and Wynn had continued their campaign of exclusion. Or maybe they’d simply forgotten he’d existed. Bran could well imagine that happening.

Bran made to continue on, but Talbot edged in front of him a bit more. “You’ve been in the tropics all this time?” Talbot asked.

Bran nodded. “Yes.”

“And now you’re the earl.” Talbot blew out a breath between his gapped front teeth. “Lucky for you.”

“Are you saying I should be happy that my family died?” Bran stared at him.

Talbot’s face flushed. “Er, no. Of course not. As I said, we miss your brothers a great deal.” He glanced again toward the table, and Bran caught the beseeching look in his eyes.