The Duke is Wicked (League of Lords #3) - Tracy Sumner Page 0,10
yet so little.
“Even made it into the infamous betting book...if Ashcroft will propose or die before the morn. I believe the majority went with a proposal arriving in less than a week. To a commoner. Oh, the gruesome scandal of it all. Death would be a more favorable outcome. A betting book I’m not invited to review, you see, because White’s doesn’t extend invitations to filthy rich Yanks. They prefer the highborn yet destitute.” Castion Temple yawned and strolled into the room, found the chair most capable of containing his broad body, and threw himself in it. “The third son of a baron, a club member though he has no funds to cover either his dues or any bets he makes, felt forced to remind me of my unsuitability. Forcing me to restore my dignity by knocking him off his feet and into the mud pooled along St James.” Stacking his boots atop the table, his eyes crinkled at the corners with his grin. “Don’t give me that look, Del. I’m breaking the fewest rules I can in a country littered with them.”
“You’re not missing anything, Case. Your club in Charleston is much grander. Of course, White’s is two-hundred years old, while Emory’s has less than ten on its shoulders,” she murmured, and went back to her letter. “As a country, as a people, we’re new and tasteless, as the English never neglect to tell us.” She wasn’t fooled by her brother’s show of bland serenity. Or the false smile. A muscle in his jaw popped as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Masculine reactions to suppressed emotion.
This wasn’t about any bet in a book, and they both knew it.
He was worried about her—and she, him. An exclusive partnership, being a twin, complicated by a situation getting more problematic by the second.
“So you sneak into a gentleman’s club, beat the Earl of Essex at billiards, then follow that up two weeks later by kissing a man one step below royalty.” Case whistled through his teeth, his head dropping back to allow his gaze to brush the ceiling. “Blazes, what a month you’re having. I’m failing to live up to our moniker in comparison to your efforts. Though I am trying.”
When she failed to reply, he began the hand-clenching again, mentally preparing his speech. “We could look into purchasing a country manor, like the farm back home. Acres of land and pine trees, and air that doesn’t smell like dead fish and coal. A real place for you to ride. I can work from there for part of the year. Find a village lass in need of attention.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as if envisioning it. “Seems to be the thing—a place to rusticate. Another month, and society will flee the city like rats from a sinking vessel anyway.”
“Not the society we’re a part of. The Demi-Monde stay, they frolic, they misbehave.” She tipped her shoulder, a half-shrug. “Besides, a summer away won’t save me this time.”
His grave, half-lidded gaze met hers, and a tremor rumbled deep in her heart. Born of shared experience and the indefinable ingredient that was family, Case looked weary and defeated. “I worry. I can’t help it. I’m your older brother. Now that papa’s gone, isn’t that my job? To protect you?”
Delaney trailed her finger over the commissioner’s terse script, trying to retrain her attention on Scotland Yard’s letter. “Five minutes older.”
“You could make it easier, Del, be amenable for once in your life.”
Her temper sparked, an acrid burn in her belly. “I know women are expected to follow along behind whatever man is leading the way, making decisions. Father, brother, husband. I’m not going that route. And I’m not marrying, Case. Ever. You understand the reasoning.”
“But this is—”
“I don’t care what muddle I’ve found myself helplessly mired in. What happened today won’t taint Ashcroft’s reputation. He’ll be considered wise for distancing himself from an untouchable woman. You and I are outcasts and always will be, so nothing affects us in actuality.” Smoothing her hand across the sheet she’d partially crumpled in her fist, she added, “And he’s different, this man. It’s tricky. Not to mention the fact he’s comatose and has no idea society is spinning a web around him.”
“Different?” Case snorted behind the hand he dragged across his mouth, then tapped his finger against his temple. “And you aren’t? I’m afraid you’re going to lock yourself in your attic one day and never come out.”