and never regretted it. Besides, the heir to a duchy becoming a partner in a notorious pleasure palace had infuriated the duke.
Molly had been devastated by the death of Tony’s mother, Katherine. Despite her lengthy relationship with the duke and the affair, Molly had cared deeply for her mistress. After Katherine’s death, Molly had become incredibly religious and moved herself and Leo to the outskirts of London. She had then met and married a hack driver who had provided her and Leo with a comfortable home, but little else. Leo didn’t have fond memories of his stepfather, a brutish man who had been free with his fists. Thankfully, the marriage hadn’t lasted. Molly’s husband had fallen down the stairs one night, drunk, breaking his neck.
Tony had serious doubts the death had been accidental. Leo blamed the duke for all of it.
Glancing at Leo, Tony took in his brother’s garishly patterned waistcoat with a small frown of distaste. Leo had always favored such clothing; often it was the only way patrons of Elysium could tell them apart. Today’s waistcoat was particularly loud, consisting of a swirling mass of mustard and pale blue silk stitched with gold thread.
“If you would just capitulate,” Leo continued, “he’d leave me alone. I told him to bugger off. I’ve more than enough money to buy my own bloody estate if I wish to do so. And I don’t. What would I do in the country? Traipse about the gardens? I also don’t need him spouting off to everyone that he’s my father. Other lords don’t acknowledge every extra branch on their tree. Why must Averell do so?”
“I’ve no intention of ever giving him what he wants.” His father wanted Tony to marry and provide an heir for the prestigious Averell dukedom. But Tony was filled with loathing for his father for all the wrongs done to his mother. “I enjoy informing the duke, on the rare occasions we speak,” Tony rolled the glass between his palms, “that I’ll never produce his bloody heir. It delights me to tell him the legitimate line of the Duke of Averell will die an untimely death, just as my mother did. It is my father’s misfortune the title can’t go to some obscure cousin living across the ocean in New York.”
“Is there really some unknown distant relation of your family moldering about in America?”
“It’s your family as well.” Tony waved his hand. “Our father’s elder half-sister caused quite a scandal when she married into a prominent New York family. Jilted a marquess to do so. She has sons. An entire army of them. Pity one of my cousins isn’t free to inherit.”
Leo snorted and poured them both another finger of the scotch. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts, before Leo said, “The girls and Amanda are in London.”
Tony already knew of his stepmother’s arrival for the season, as well as that of his younger sisters. No matter his hatred of his father, Tony loved the girls and adored his flighty stepmother, even though Amanda certainly had poor taste in men as evidenced by her affection for his father.
“She sent a note asking me to stop by and visit,” Tony said. “I told her I would come only if she promises not to discuss the duke. I’ve no desire to hear how our father’s declining health would improve if only he could reconcile with his sons.”
Leo snorted. “How long does a duke linger on his deathbed until he finally succumbs?”
“Apparently such a thing can go on for years.” Tony knew it was a ploy on his father’s part. The man was capable of all sorts of deceit. “I’ll pay the duchess a call today. I’m certain she’ll extend an invitation for me to dine at some point this week. Your presence will be requested as well.”
Her Grace, the Duchess of Averell had brought the girls to London without her husband, who was deemed far too ill to travel with his family. The oldest of the girls, Andromeda, or Romy as she was called, had been eager to make her debut so she could enjoy the season. Not because Romy wished to marry, but rather for the fashion opportunity presented by the round of balls, recitals, fetes, evenings at the opera, and visits to the theater. Romy adored gowns, hats, gloves, and the assortment of fripperies which constituted London’s season. But it wasn’t just wearing them; Romy’s true passion lay in the design