A Little Bit Sinful(14)

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to meet his brother here. He didn’t care for the Chanceworth townhome. But, today, they had nothing set up and he needed to speak with him. He knocked and was admitted into the duke’s study to wait for his brother. Justin stood in the room glancing around at all the antiquities their father had collected. The man had been particularly fond of Chinese abacuses, and so there were at least fifteen of them in all different styles and mediums.

The first time Justin had stood in this room he’d been a boy of only twelve, and his mother, or at least the woman who’d raised him, had fallen ill and brought him to live with his father. That had been the same day he’d found out that Eloise Rodale, the woman with whom he’d lived with until that moment, was not his real mother. She’d certainly treated him as a mother would treat a son, loving, yet stern when she’d needed to be.

His father hadn’t been too keen on the bastard son showing up on his doorstep. The duke had been completely prepared to turn the boy out on his own, but the duchess had come in, heard the commotion and come to Justin’s aid. She’d demanded her husband claim him in some capacity and Justin had been welcomed into the home, educated alongside their son, the heir, Monroe. It had taken the death of their father for Roe to be willing to accept him, and Justin couldn’t say he blamed him. He’d been so damned angry with their father, he hadn’t been worth being around when they were younger. It was one of the reasons he’d spent so much time at the Kincaid family’s home, to be around what he’d deemed a happy family.

Roe stepped into the room. “Damnation, Rodale, how many times must I tell you not to come this bloody early in the morning?”

Roe was disheveled. There was no other word to describe him. His shirt was undone, he wore no waistcoat, and he hadn’t bothered to put on shoes. Red lines cobwebbed across his eyes indicating he’d once again had an extremely late night.

Justin chuckled. “Dear brother, it is nearly noon, that hardly constitutes as being bloody early. Perhaps if you would go to sleep before sunrise you might be more amenable to the daylight hours.”

Roe tossed himself down on the sofa and glared at his brother. “Yes, but it is in those late hours that the best players come out. I cannot abide to play Vingt-et-un with those who aren’t skilled, you know that.”

Justin sat in the wing-backed chair adjacent to the sofa. “Yes, I do know that. Did you win?”

He stacked his bare feet on the occasional table in front of the sofa. “Of course, I always win,” Roe said with a lazy shrug. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Now, to what do I owe the honor of your intrusion?”

“What do you know of George Wilbanks?” There was no need to be anything but direct when it came to communicating with his brother.

Roe cracked open one eye. “What do want with him?”

“Curiosity, Roe, humor me.”

“Very well, let me see, George Wilbanks.” Roe puffed out a breath. “His father, the Viscount, is older than Christ, but the man refuses to die thus leaving George to survive on a regulated allowance. The old man must be approaching eighty, yet he still thrives in Parliament.”

“And George is annoyed that his father won’t die?”

Roe chuckled. “I suppose he is. Honestly, I don’t know George well. He doesn’t play Vingt-et-un, prefers billiards, I believe.” Roe was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, and I believe I heard once that he enjoys boxing.”

“He plays billiards when he goes to Rodale’s,” Justin said.

“You do not offer boxing.”

“True. It’s a risky form of wagering. Giving them permission to beat each other in one room encourages them to do so in the other rooms.” Justin shook his head. “No boxing at Rodale’s.”

“Of course not.” Roe bracketed his hands behind his head and looked at Justin.

“Is that all you know?”

Roe tilted his head. “You know I don’t pay much attention to gossip unless it is about me. That I find infinitely amusing.”

“Think, Roe, people talk, especially when they play cards and drink. You must have heard something about the bloke over the years.”

“Demanding this morning, aren’t you? He likes women,” Roe said. Then he rolled his eyes. “A lot of women.”

“Does that mean he has several mistresses?”

“No, nothing like that. Don’t think he could afford one mistress let alone multiple ones. I meant that he enjoys having more than one woman. I believe I heard that he has a handful of ladies he courts, makes promises to, but has no intentions to follow through with any of them.”