“Of course he’ll take it,” Robert said, giving Morgan a pointed stare.
Morgan jerked at the statement, said as if he were a recalcitrant child rather than a man well past his majority. “Roseford,” he growled, unable to keep his annoyance from his tone.
Brighthollow cast a glance between the two brothers, and then he turned to Robert. “Roseford, why don’t you give me a moment alone with Mr. Banfield? Please.”
“Yes,” Morgan said, glaring at his brother. “That’s a very good idea.”
Robert opened and shut his mouth. He clearly wished to argue against the request. But then he threw up his hands. “Very well,” he muttered, pushing to his feet. “I suppose I will go observe your garden, Brighthollow.”
He walked to the door, but there he turned and speared Morgan with a glance. It spoke volumes. It said don’t cock this up. And Morgan bucked against the unspoken order. Robert might manage the estate that paid his bills, but he wasn’t Morgan’s father. No one had ever been that. Not really.
Once he was gone, Brighthollow got up and closed the door behind him. “So he won’t eavesdrop,” he explained with an easy smile as he retook his place on the settee.
“You know him so well,” Morgan grunted.
“I do,” Brighthollow said softly. He was silent a moment before he said, “You’re very clever.”
Morgan forced himself to hold the other man’s stare. “I try.”
That elicited a bit of a smile from his companion. “Roseford worries over you. A brother’s prerogative, and one I understand better than most. But it makes me wonder if I should worry about you, too.”
Morgan sat up straighter. There was something about the question, about the man who sat across from him, that made him want to prove something about himself. That was a new sensation and he wasn’t certain he liked it much.
And yet…
“No,” he said, and the mask he wore slipped a bit. “You wouldn’t have to worry about me.”
Brighthollow arched a brow. “Do you want this opportunity?”
Well, they had come to it and swiftly, at that, because the Duke of Brighthollow did not seem a man who minced around topics or played games. So the total opposite of Morgan, himself.
But this was a split in the road of Morgan’s life. He recognized it with a clarity that rarely accompanied such moments. There were the two paths. One where he scoffed at the idea of a different life, where he continued on as he always had and probably irrevocably damaged his relationship with Roseford.
But life had not been…perfect…as of late. Roseford wasn’t wrong when he said Morgan was troubled. He just hated that his brother could see it. That felt like vulnerability and Morgan had fought his entire life not to show any of that. Soft underbellies got knifed in his experience.
And that made him look at the other path that Brighthollow presented. One with a vocation that could provide instead of the dwindling inheritance Robert continued to bestow upon him. A future that went beyond gaming hells and brothels and a wastrel’s existence.
“Mr. Banfield?” Brighthollow said, tilting his head to examine Morgan more closely.
Morgan blinked. “I-I haven’t served anyone before,” he admitted softly.
“I know.” Brighthollow leaned forward. “But there is time to learn. I’ll teach you.”
Morgan swallowed. “You’re doing this for Robert.”
Brighthollow’s smile softened. “Yes. Does that bother you?”
“If it’s the only reason,” Morgan said.
“I understand that. You must know that Robert isn’t. I’d be a fool to hand over the keys to my kingdom just because of a friendship. In truth, I think you might be good at it. Everything Robert has told me about you says you would be if you applied yourself to it.”
Morgan wrinkled his brow. So Roseford had spoken to Brighthollow about him before, it seemed. And with…with pride? Something in Morgan flickered that he did not want to feel.
He cleared his throat and words he didn’t expect fell from his lips. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Brighthollow pushed to his feet and extended a hand to Morgan. He stood and shook it, slightly dazed by how this meeting had gone. He’d had plans for it, but now everything had veered to the side. “I will stay here in London for a few days so you may make any arrangements you need. And I’ll also invite Robert and Katherine to join us in Brighthollow.”
Morgan shook his head. “For what purpose?”
“To ease the transition.”
Morgan pursed his lips. He couldn’t imagine having Robert around, parenting him over his shoulder, would be easy. But then again, having people there he knew might help. “Er, that is kind of you.”
Brighthollow shrugged, as if the gesture meant nothing. Then he moved toward the door. “Well, let us see if Roseford is standing in the hallway with his ear pressed against my door? And then I’ll let you go so you may put your own house in order. We can meet again, perhaps tonight for supper, and go over these new beginnings for us both.”
Morgan followed him to the door in a daze. A new beginning. It had been a long time since he’d had one of those. He just hoped he’d know what to do with it.
Chapter 3
Lizzie strolled along the pathway in the vast expanse of the garden behind the manor house, notebook in hand, although she hadn’t been taking notes. There were many reasons for her inability to gather her thoughts.
Part of the distraction was that she loved being back home. The quiet of the estate, the beauty of the trees and fountains and flowers, it all made her feel so peaceful. She’d needed that after her recent time in London.
But it had been a week since she and Amelia had arrived home. They’d enjoyed many a casual stroll and happy supper and visit with shire friends. As time passed, though, she felt the expectations from her sister-in-law about the garden. When Hugh arrived with his new employee, probably shortly, he would likely have the same questions. After all, that was why she’d claimed she wanted to come here for a month during the height of the Season.
She sighed. Her parents had died when she was just eight. Her father, she admitted, she didn’t miss often. He had been a distant and often unpleasant presence in her life, and Hugh had stepped into his role with grace and ease and kindness, even when she didn’t feel she deserved it.
But her mother? Oh, how Lizzie missed her. And the garden, which had been the prior duchess’s passion project, reflected her mother. Lizzie saw her in every flower, in every carefully trimmed shrubbery.
What if she managed it the wrong way? What if she planted something her mother hadn’t intended? So she pored over the old, faded plans from decades ago and worried over it endlessly.
It made her restless here, and that was not something she enjoyed when it came to the sanctuary of home.
She let out a sigh as she trudged up the back stair onto the terrace that overlooked the garden. Through the glass doors that led to the parlor, she saw servants bustling and rushing. It could mean only one thing.
Hugh was home.
She smiled and pushed through the doors and into the house. In a few steps she was to the foyer and out the front door where servants were collecting in order to retrieve trunks and boxes.
She blushed because Hugh had already exited his carriage. He stood on the bottom step, arms around Amelia, and the two were kissing enthusiastically, regardless of the bustle around them. She was happy for them, of course. Amelia had been bereft without him for the past week. Lizzie had felt how her friend forced frivolity at times and watched the clock ceaselessly. Hugh had to have missed her, too. They were rarely parted and Lizzie knew how deeply he adored her.
But seeing the way they smiled at each other as they parted…it made Lizzie feel something darker. Something she hated in herself. She was jealous. Always jealous of her brother’s happiness. Which made her a terrible person, she knew.
“And Amelia, this is Morgan Banfield,” Hugh was saying as he mot
ioned toward the carriage. A man was exiting it, and Lizzie’s stomach leapt.
He was tall, broad shouldered and lean. When he unfolded himself from the carriage, it was a smooth, confident movement. And when he looked up the stairs, first at her brother and Amelia, and then past them toward Lizzie…
Well, her heart all but stopped. He was exceedingly well favored. He had light brown hair that was thick and slightly mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and dark chocolate eyes that swept over her in one motion. He also sported a beard, a shade lighter than his hair. The facial hair was most definitely not in fashion, so it surprised her to see it. But it certainly suited him and highlighted the angles of his jaw and cheekbones.
A tiny smile tilted one corner of his lips, and then he winked at her. The motion broke the spell and she jerked her gaze away, lifting her hands to cover her hot cheeks.
This libertine had just winked at her. And it threw her back to four years before, when her world had been torn to pieces by a man who was equally handsome and charming. Well, perhaps not equally.
What was wrong with her?
“Lizzie!” Amelia called out, glancing up the stairs at her. “Come and join us.”
She stayed frozen on the top step for a moment, and then somehow forced herself to move. She made her way to the drive, where she kissed her brother’s cheek in mute welcome and then girded herself for the inevitable introduction to the devil who had just placed himself on her family estate.
“Lizzie, this is Morgan Banfield,” Hugh said. “My new man of affairs. Mr. Banfield: my sister, Lady Elizabeth.”
“My lady,” Mr. Banfield drawled as he extended a hand in greeting.
She didn’t want to take it, but propriety and politeness did not allow her to refuse. She extended her hand. He took it, his ungloved fingers folding over her own bare skin, and she was enveloped in warmth for a moment. His hands weren’t calloused, but they were a bit rough and she hated how the dichotomy of her soft skin against his sent a shiver of awareness up her spine. Feelings such as this brought nothing good.
She pulled her hand away and shoved it to her side. “Mr. Banfield. Welcome to our home.”
Amelia smiled and everyone else seemed unaware of Lizzie’s tangled feelings. Including Mr. Banfield, who looked away from her toward her sister-in-law.
“We have a chamber prepared for you, Mr. Banfield,” Amelia said. “And I assume Hugh has been talking your ear off with details about the estate for three days. So I offer you a respite from his voice while you settle in.”
“Well now,” Hugh said with a teasing affront to his tone. “I thought you liked my voice.”
Amelia linked her arm through his. “And I never asked for a respite from it.”
They laughed and Banfield along with them. Lizzie somehow managed a smile even though the blood was rushing in her ears.
“There is much to learn, Your Grace,” Mr. Banfield said with an incline of his head. “But I assure you, I’m up for the task.”
“I think he might be,” Hugh said with a quick glance at him. “And you’ll have plenty of time to settle in and explore the grounds. Robert and Katherine will join us in a few days, as well.”
Amelia smiled. “I received word just before you arrived that Ewan and Charlotte also intend on arriving at almost the same time.”
“The Duke and Duchess of Donburrow,” Hugh explained. “Old friends. A better man, I could not name.”
“Then we will be a happy party, indeed,” Mr. Banfield said, and shot Lizzie another brief look.
She refused to return it and instead stared at a loose thread on the cuff of her gown. If the house was filled with friends, she had to be pleased for that. Not only would she enjoy their company, but it would likely give her a barrier between her and this unwanted newcomer. He would be busy with learning the estate, she would be playing hostess at Amelia’s side.
“Why don’t we go into the house, then?” Amelia said. She squeezed Hugh’s arm and slid her hand through the crook of Lizzie’s elbow. Lizzie felt herself guided away, into the house, away from the interloper that came to test her resolve.
But this time it was a test she intended to win.
Morgan couldn’t help but stare as the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered was drawn inside by her sister-in-law. It was an odd thing to think of Lady Elizabeth as that, since she was so different from the woman who normally caught his eye.
He normally liked flashy women. Ones with confidence and experience like the ones he encountered in the hells. It was easier with them. They understood the boundaries of whatever arrangement he would enter with them. Most of them appreciated those boundaries as much as he did.
But Elizabeth? Well, this was not a woman you played about with. This was a lady, and not just because she was a duke’s sister. No, she was fully of her station, that was clear from the way she held herself: a bit distant, standoffish. She had a delicacy to her, like a beautiful little bird who had been happily trapped in a cage all her life. She wouldn’t understand a man like him. She would be shocked by him if she allowed him past the surface. Which she had been trained all her life not to do.
But she was utterly enchanting regardless of the imprudence of his attraction. She had pale blonde hair, done up in a simple fashion that framed her slender face perfectly and brought attention to blue eyes the color of a clear summer’s sky. There was something sad to those eyes, something hollow and even a little pained that he marked and set aside in his mind.
She must have heard something about him before his arrival, because she didn’t like him. He’d felt her disdain the moment he touched her hand, smoothing his thumb over the delicate bones and slender fingers that had fit into his own so perfectly.
But though she didn’t know him, she’d darted her gaze away, lips pursed with displeasure. So it was evident she did not approve of her brother’s choice of man of affairs. It made him wonder how he had been described to her by her brother or by Roseford. He might have to explore that more closely in order to know where he truly stood.
“And so what do you think of it?” Brighthollow asked as he stepped up next to Morgan and the two observed the big manor house together.
Morgan nodded. “It’s a fine seat, Your Grace. Which I’m certain you already know.”
Brighthollow chuckled. “I am biased, I suppose. As my wife said, you’ll be given time to settle in. There will be a long period of transition, for your sake and for my own.”
“Why for yours?” Morgan asked.
Brighthollow shrugged. “I’ve run my own estate for a long time. Letting go will not be easy, though it is necessary. My time is required elsewhere.”
Morgan followed the duke up the stairs and into the foyer. There was a bustle of activity going on around them, but his focus was entirely on the retreating back of Lady Elizabeth as she and the Duchess of Brighthollow entered a parlor just off the foyer.
“Your sister is older than I assumed, based on your description of her during our travels.”
Brighthollow’s brow furrowed slightly. An interesting tell, given that it was clear he adored his sister. But something troubled him about the subject. Morgan wondered what, exactly.
“I suppose that is an old habit. Although Lizzie is twenty, I still sometimes see her as the little girl I raised.” His smile was soft. “But don’t let her know I said it. She wouldn’t want to be seen as a child.”
“Ah, if you raised her, I suppose that makes sense,” Morgan said, filing the information away with all the rest, as was his habit. “And do I answer to Lady Elizabeth, as well as to you and the duchess?”
Brighthollow seemed taken aback by the question, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he responded, “I…suppose. Yes. If Lizzie needed something you could provide, then yes, you would answer to her.”
“Hmmm,” Morgan murmured in what he hoped was a disinterested tone.
Certainly, his new employer wouldn’t care for the thoughts Morgan
was having about Lady Elizabeth. An innocent like her was lovely, for sure, but out of his reach for a variety of reasons.
“I doubt she would ask for your help, truth be told,” Brighthollow continued with a deeper frown. “Although…” He seemed to consider something for a moment, then shook his head. “No. My sister is shy. You needn’t trouble yourself with her. If she requires anything, Amelia and I are the ones who will provide it. You can focus on a great many other duties.”
“Of course,” Morgan said.
Brighthollow motioned for him to follow. “Now they have taken your trunks up to your chamber. I’ll find someone to escort you there and allow you a few moments to gather yourself.”
Morgan nodded his thanks, but as Brighthollow called for a servant, his mind kept going back to bright blue eyes. For a man drawn to trouble, he could recognize it when he saw it. And now he’d have to fight his impulses if he didn’t want to create even more of it for himself.
Lizzie paced down the long hallway, hands clenched at her sides and body on high alert. She felt wound too tight and had been this way for hours, since the arrival of Morgan Banfield into her home. No, not arrival. Invasion. That was the right term. He had invaded like a Viking, fitting considering the beard, and then he’d…winked at her.
She shook her head. Oh, how she hated that one man, one stranger, one foolish little flit of an eyelid she couldn’t get out of her mind, could affect her so. It was too much power for someone else to hold over her. And it was too much like the terrible past.
She huffed out a long breath as she neared the library and tried to find her focus. Here, at least, she would find peace. She always did.
The Love of a Libertine: The Duke’s Bastards Book 1 Page 4