by Heather Boyd
“I thought you were looking to purchase a monocle,” Teddy complained. “There is a jeweler across the road that is bound to have one.”
“I will get there, eventually,” he said, studying the window intensely. There still seemed to be a good selection on hand inside. He stepped into the little shop, glad to find it empty of other patrons for the time being.
The proprietor was beside himself to have customers and proudly showed off his wares. Sinclair selected a shepherdess, remembering Kitty had worn that costume to the first costume ball he’d hosted at Grafton Park. They’d made love in his bed that night. He’d enjoyed acting as her lady’s maid, and also because he’d at last made love to her in a proper bed and had not had to remove straw from their hair afterward.
He handed over a careless handful of coins to pay for the trinket, and despite protests he’d overpaid the proprietor, tucked the fragile piece into his own coat pocket.
They strolled together side by side in silence for a while, nodding and bowing depending upon which ladies they passed. He noticed Teddy seemed to have a ready smile for women of some maturity. He even turned to look over his shoulder as a pair of ladies passed them. One was old, the other quite a bit younger. As ever, Sinclair considered the future of the duchy. Teddy would require a wife and heir one day. He could not make the same mistake Sinclair had in holding out for love forever. Teddy had to marry someone young, not someone too old to bear his children. “Do you see someone who interests you?”
“What? Oh… No, nothing like that.” He looked back over his shoulder once more, though, and his shoulders relaxed. “I saw a woman my father was acquainted with. I was checking to see if she had recognized me.”
“Did she?”
Teddy shook his head and hunched his shoulders a little. “I do not think so. If she had, she was the type to call out a man’s name.”
“Would it be so bad if people know who you really are?”
Teddy’s expression darkened. “We had a deal, your grace.”
“True, but months have passed since we first made it. Hasn’t your disguise already served its purpose? You have seen enough of my life to understand how yours might turn out?”
“I do not want to live your life,” Teddy admitted in a low voice. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Sinclair promised. “I think I was lucky to inherit the title so young. I have never had a before or afterlife to compare it to. For as long as I remember, I have been the Duke of Exeter.”
“Do you really remember nothing else?” Teddy looked at him curiously.
“I remember being a brother to the most annoying, opinionated young girl that ever lived. She used to make fun of me being short.” Sinclair grinned. “I never attended college. I was schooled at home. I went from nursery to my father’s side until the day he died.” His twin sister had demanded what remained of his spare time at home. It had been hard to keep parts of his life to himself. Even Kitty had been introduced to him because his sister needed someone to play with. They had once all been the best of friends as children—at least until Kitty had married and moved away.
Teddy smiled. “I cannot imagine you any way other than you are now. Tall and always full of mischief. Sometimes it’s hard to keep in my head that you are the distinguished Duke of Exeter.”
“People always form an opinion of my character long before ever meeting me.” Teddy had been just the same, swayed by his own father’s prejudices to believe Sinclair was a ruthless, cruel man. It was not amusing to have other people’s expectations start so low. “It is a pleasant amusement sometimes to imagine living another life.”
Sinclair passed a woman he knew with a daughter of marriageable age in tow. Both became excited by his presence, but he moved on, noticing that Teddy spared a warmer smile for the older lady again, and not the younger one.
“What sort of life would you want?” Teddy asked suddenly.
“I do not know.” Sinclair gave the matter some serious thought. “There are so many lives I could have lived. A merchant. A shipwright, perhaps. Take that baker there. I do love bread. But see how he must harden his heart to others? He ignores the urchins in favor of a paying customer, or tries to until their hands get too close to his breadbasket.” The baker kicked out at one, sending a young boy of perhaps six years stumbling back to his knees. “I could never do that,” he admitted, finding little in the scene amusing because the boy began to cry.
Another merchant, carrying an equally large basket of bread, complained to the first man about his rudeness and cruelty. Even though he defended the young lad, he gave nothing to the hungry child in the end. But he spoke to them, and his expression was full of regret.
Sinclair spoke quietly to one of his grooms and sent him across the road to intercede.
“You would probably drive yourself out of business and to the poor house trying to give everyone enough to eat,” Teddy whispered. “There’s always someone else going hungry, you know.”
“And that is why I am happy to have you along today. You have a rational mind, and that has always impressed me about you. It is expected that a wealthy man must give to charities of all sorts. One day you will be obscenely wealthy, and everyone will seek to be your friend. But they will all want something from you and give little back. You must learn to weigh the good you can do against the cost of doing it.”
Sinclair’s groom began to dole out the bread to any who asked, paying the second merchant well, he assumed. The first one seemed outraged and shook his fist. Sinclair sighed, and since there were more children than bread appearing out of the shadows now, he sent another groom across to the first fellow, too, even if he did not deserve the patronage.
Teddy leaned close. “I do not appear to have any influence on your generosity.”
One of the children, a little girl of about ten years of age perhaps, dipped Sinclair a curtsy and then gathered up the younger children to go away with her. Sinclair had already noticed they had similar features. A family. A desperate one, judging by the grubby state of their little faces. The children clutched their bread tightly and vanished very quickly from the more populated street.
For a moment, he wondered where their parents were today, and then shook his head. “On the contrary, you give excellent advice. I cannot offer charity to everyone, but if I can fill a child’s belly today, I will sleep easy tonight.”
“It’s the best you can do,” Teddy admitted.
“Exactly.” He crossed the road and started wandering up the other side toward the shop Teddy had pointed out that might have a display of monocles. However, his eyes fell on a young man coming toward them before they got there. Although the man’s face was tipped downward, Sinclair recognized him. “Lord Carmichael?” he called out when he realized the young earl would pass him by unaware.
The fellow’s eyes darted upward to his, and for a moment, Sinclair saw irritation in his expression. Carmichael quickly wiped the hostility clean and bowed deeply. “Your grace.”
“Where are you off too in such a hurry, my lord?” Sinclair asked, eyes narrowing on Carmichael. The young earl was decidedly scruffy today. If Sinclair was not mistaken, Carmichael’s jaw was peppered with the beginnings of a proper beard, too. He had not just missed one appointment with his razor, but several.
“Nowhere,” Carmichael promised. “Where are you bound, your grace?”
A lie was often better than the truth. Telling people you were secretly buying gifts for a woman tended to lead to the worst sort of gossip imaginable.
“I am exercising my servants,” Sinclair joked, casting a quick smile in Teddy’s direction, and then at his men, who’d formed a protective ring around him and Carmichael so they would not be interrupted. “They have become far too idle this summer and I fear they might be growing too big for their livery soon. You have no idea of the cost of their upkeep.”
Two of his slenderest men sniggered at Sinclair’s remarks and looked to their more portly companions. They all knew Sin
clair was not serious, or should have.
Carmichael shook his head. “I am sure that is not what brings you here at this hour. But I should not keep you.” He made to continue on immediately, but Sinclair stopped him.
“I do not believe I received an answer from you about Christmas.”
He winced. “I do apologize.”
Sinclair considered Carmichael. The earl looked vastly unhappy to be reminded that he was expected at Grafton Park for Christmas festivities with a number of his peers this year. Sinclair had heard that invitations for this year’s Christmas house party were highly coveted. Everyone appeared very keen to celebrate with him as he turned fifty years old on Twelfth Night. He was surprised Carmichael was not one of them. “Is that your answer?”
“No, but I have not been home very much of late and have grown to be a tardy correspondent.”
“I do understand.” He nodded. Carmichael had always been popular with the hostesses. He must be run off his feet as the season winds down, and bachelors were in short supply, even if they were imperfectly shaved.
He studied Carmichael again with a feeling of unease growing in his gut, though. He could not quite remember the last time he’d seen him about. “I will look forward to receiving your answer very soon then.”
“Of course.”
“Good day, Carmichael.”
“Your grace.” Carmichael bowed and continued down the street, chin lowered and walking fast. Sinclair found his rushed steps did not sit well with him. He turned to follow Carmichael down the road but ambled so he did not draw attention to what he was doing. When he came to the next cross street, Carmichael had already vanished from sight.
Teddy caught his eye. “Is something the matter?”
“Probably not.” But he could not shake a certainty that all was not right with the young earl. He turned around and resumed his ambling walk in the right direction. When his servants had fallen behind a little more, Sinclair turned to Teddy. “What do you recall about Carmichael, Teddy?”
“The woman he was going to marry was murdered.”
“Besides that,” Sinclair said. The deaths—a series of ten so far had been discovered by investigators—had been slow to come to his attention, but the effects had been devastating. Especially to Carmichael, whose betrothal had been a secret arrangement, even if everyone in society had expected the match. Carmichael’s loss was very recent. Barely a few months had passed since then.
“Nothing much at all,” Teddy said as he smiled at another handsome older woman. “He has not been attending the same events you have.”
“Or any, now I think about the matter.”
“He must be heartbroken,” Teddy suggested.
Sinclair thought Teddy was right. Loss did funny things to sensible men and women. Many chose to withdraw from those who would support them in their time of need. “I imagine so too,” Sinclair mused. “Make sure I invite Carmichael to dinner this week.”
“Could you not simply call on him?”
Sinclair looked back over his shoulder. “Did you notice a certain laxity in his manner of dress? I am not sure he’d even be at home to me, and you know how I dislike being disappointed when I call on anyone.”
“I have never noticed,” Teddy promised, although he was trying not to smirk. “What if he doesn’t answer an invitation, either?”
Sinclair considered that possibility, and then smiled. “I might know a way to attract Carmichael. Do me a favor and steal my French chef back from Carmichael’s employ. Promise Laffitte carte blanche in the kitchens here and at Grafton Park.”
Teddy laughed. “At last, we’ll have a decent meal again.”
“Do it today. I need Monsieur Laffitte to start preparing for my house party.”
“I wager you were going to lure him back all along.” Teddy chuckled. “Appropriately devious of you. Always thinking two steps ahead.”
Sinclair stopped before a shop selling clocks. Something he did not need, since he already owned two dozen clocks and watches, but Teddy could use a better timepiece for the evening. He would give Teddy one as an early Christmas present, or a monocle to remember him by. It was likely the only way the young man would accept anything without protest.
“Remember that one. It’s a useful trait for a future duke to employ, too.”
Chapter 12
Sinclair was sure that coming out tonight had been a mistake. Kitty was not here, and there had still been no note from her. He should have left his card when he’d called on her last night, but he’d been thinking about her reputation.
There was no one he wanted to talk to here, but he felt an obligation to stay because the hostess was a good woman and wife of a friend.
He’d really hoped he might have heard from Kitty before now, perhaps an invitation to supper, or she might have shared some of her daytime plans with him so they might appear to meet by chance elsewhere. If he’d called on her tonight, would she have been at home? He did not know. If not, he might just have had to conscript Lady Darrow into helping him with his Kitty problem.
But there was the problem of his cousin, too. Teddy was taking on this role he’d concocted a little too seriously for his liking. In private, he was always asking him his plans, who he’d been talking to if he did not recognize them. In public, he deferred to him too much. Walking one pace behind, following him anywhere and everywhere. There were people Teddy could speak with here, women he could flatter and fall into bed with.
The man vexed him more tonight than ever before. Teddy should be enjoying himself. They both should.
“I did not bring you to London to live as a monk,” he murmured to the man.
“You said I should learn from you,” Teddy replied. “You have not looked twice at a woman all night.”
“Casual dalliances can be more trouble than they are worth,” he warned. Casual dalliances always led to the expectation of permanence. “It pays to use discretion.”
“Agreed.”
He glanced at his heir, hesitant to bring up a delicate topic in this setting. However, it was a subject that played on his mind, mostly because of the primary failure in his own life. “When are you going give up this charade and start looking for a wife?”
Teddy sputtered, sending a few disapproving glances in his direction. They were attending another rout; Lady Evans’ party was in full swing. However, no one should be interested in what he said to a man wearing his livery. And normally, Sinclair favoring conversation with his servant over those of more noble blood was too frequent an event for anyone to be curious about anymore. But he wanted everyone to be aware of Teddy’s importance soon. They would act very differently indeed, and perhaps stop whispering about what could happen to the title and fortune when he died.
Sinclair would like to be alive to see everyone’s reaction. The shock. The rush to flatter Teddy. It should be worthy of a good laugh or two. Secrecy had become tedious in the extreme. “You cannot put marriage off like I did.”
“I will get to it,” Teddy promised, but there was a hint of defensiveness to his response.
“You should be known now. Let the women get to know your character. There are only a few weeks left where the ton will be in London. After that, most will return to their estates for months. Decisions must be made soon.”
Teddy, his expression quite bland, looked around. “I heard Lord Wade’s assessment of your list of women. If none of them will do for you, why do you imagine I should bother with any of them?” Teddy asked.
“One of them might do for you,” Sinclair promised, wholly omitting the fact that list had been compiled with Teddy in mind. “We could bring Lord Wade into the secret, see what he can shake out of the ton’s family trees. There has to be someone I have not considered.”
Teddy crossed his arms over his chest, and then rethought the gesture and unfolded them quickly again, so he appeared deferential still. “I am perfectly capable of choosing my own wife, in my own time. What is the hurry?”
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��I would like to meet your wife and see your children born,” Sinclair said quietly, and then held Teddy’s gaze. “I should like to know that you are loved for yourself and not the title you will one day inherit.”
“I do not think that likely.” Teddy clenched his jaw a moment, eyes brimming with emotion. “You never managed it, your grace.”
“You could marry anyone you choose if you started flirting with somebody.” He looked around the room with distaste, seeing no one that was good enough for Teddy. “It will become tedious if we are both to remain bachelors.”
“I am sure it won’t be boring at all,” Teddy assured him. “There’s still time for you to find someone too.”
Sinclair sighed again. “You know my requirements are entirely different from yours.”
“I do not see how.”
“For one, I am old, and for another, I had to discount a number of women from that list I gave to Lord Wade. Women under the age of twenty years would not do for me.”
A well-known matron and notorious gossip paused in front of them. Teddy wisely held his tongue while Sinclair merely nodded to her and looked away quickly, hoping she would, too. Perhaps it was time to move somewhere else in the room. The unattached ladies were beginning to circle closer.
He took a few steps, and Teddy followed close behind to whisper, “Why did you rule them out?”
Sinclair refused a refreshment while he thought whether to answer that honestly. He spoke to the nearest lord he knew for a few minutes as he considered the best way to phrase an uncomfortable truth. Too much introspection tended to make him feel his years. What he would not give for his nephew to be here tonight, or even one of Ettington’s young friends, to offer a distraction. They seemed to enliven the evenings quite well on most occasions. Teddy should be part of that crowd, too, and then one day, he would be a duke and have grown good friendships to support him in the challenging years ahead.