MUCH LATER THAT EVENING Taviston reclined in his favorite chair in his private study, reading a new copy of Travels in Italy by James Peter Mann. With his feet resting on a stool, he sat before the empty fireplace. The weather was far too fine to warrant a blaze. Having just returned from an evening of card play at White’s with James, he could not have been happier.
They had enjoyed themselves greatly—James because he hadn’t been out in a while, and Taviston because women were strictly forbidden from entering the gentlemen’s club. He had successfully avoided Miss Forster for the night.
He was deeply engrossed in the second chapter of the book on Italy, never having had the opportunity to explore the country. Though a party of his university friends had set off to explore Europe during the peace of 1803, Taviston had only just inherited the dukedom. Despite their incessant nagging, he had felt obliged to beg off and tend to his responsibilities.
A sharp rap sounded on the door and Peyton stepped into the room.
“What can I do for you?” Taviston wasn’t much in the mood for company and hoped that his brother had kept himself out of trouble of late.
He gestured toward the armchair across from him, but Peyton ambled over to the fireplace and casually leaned against the mantel.
“It has come to my attention that you were escorting Miss Victoria Forster through Hyde Park this morning.” Peyton’s expression was relaxed but there was a certain amount of intensity in his eyes.
“Has it?” Taviston replied noncommittally.
Peyton’s lips turned slightly downward. “Well, is it true or not?”
Taviston shrugged his shoulders and feigned nonchalance. “Yes, I suppose so. We met by chance” —with a little help from friends— “and then she needed someone to see her home.” The question was, why did Peyton care?
“It sounds very innocent, and yet there were reports of you making a minor spectacle of yourself by nearly collapsing with laughter.” A small gleam lit his brother’s eyes.
Taviston bit back a curse. It had never occurred to him that his laughing fit had probably been seen by numerous gossiping sorts. How odd, because he was usually very much aware that society’s eyes were always upon him.
He waved his hand in the air, as if dismissing the matter. “It was nothing. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself every now and then?”
“Of course you are, dear brother.” Peyton eyed him innocently. “All of this makes me curious though. Are you, perhaps, courting Miss Forster?”
A scowl formed on his face before Taviston could even think about repressing it. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not courting her.”
“Why, exactly, is that such a ridiculous idea? She’s unmarried, she’s a gentleman’s daughter and, I have heard it said, she is not exceptionally unattractive. In addition, Mother apparently found her delightful.”
This subject was becoming more than a little tiresome. Taviston briefly considered telling his brother to mind his own business but he knew from past experience Peyton would never let the subject go if he didn’t say something.
“She’s completely unsuited for the position of Duchess of Taviston. She is socially awkward and totally uninitiated to the ways of society. Not to mention, I do not have any personal interest in her whatsoever.” He wagged a finger towards his brother. “In truth, there lies your answer, Peyton. She holds absolutely no fascination for me and therefore why would I ever consider courting her?”
Taviston glanced away quickly. He didn’t often lie to his siblings and he wasn’t very comfortable doing so.
Peyton nodded his head. “But of course. Sometimes the charms of a certain woman are lost on some men.” He glanced around the room again then brought his eyes back to Taviston. “It occurs to me, though, that since you feel she is unsuited to the position of duchess, perhaps she might be more suited to the position of wife of a second son.”
Taviston stared, or perhaps it was more of a glare, at Peyton. Surely he wasn’t serious? But there was not a smile on his face or any amusement in his eyes. Peyton appeared to be very earnest indeed. A horrible, sick feeling pulsed through Taviston’s stomach. His hand unconsciously rubbed it.
“Taviston? What do you think? She seems to be an amusing little chit and I shall have to marry sooner or later, especially given that you have not seen fit to provide the dukedom with a direct heir. The wife of a second son need not aspire to much, socially speaking.” Peyton pushed himself away from the fireplace mantel, spread his feet apart and folded his arms across his chest. The challenge in his stance was unmistakable.
As his stomach roiled, Taviston forced away all images of his brother with Victoria. Would Peyton even give up his wild and rakish lifestyle once married? No woman deserved such a fate.
Taviston stood up straight and tall and placed his hands on his hips. “Leave Miss Forster be.”
Defiance flashed through Peyton’s cobalt eyes. Startlingly, it was gone quickly, replaced by an emotion Taviston couldn’t discern, but he didn’t think he had ever seen such a look in his brother’s eye.
After a moment, Peyton gave him a curt nod. “Very well.”
He turned to leave but then quickly swung back around, his face alight with its usual cheerfulness.
“Care to join me for a night of carousing?”
Relaxing slightly, he gave his brother a rueful smile. “Sorry, no.”
“Good night then.”