Stephanie James (2 page)

Marriage, marriage, marriage.

Why was he worried about marriage, anyway? A young man of nearly four-and-twenty should be concerned with more frivolous ventures. He should be in the company of male companions during the day and willing women at night.

What was wrong with him?

He was a damnable romantic, that’s what was wrong with him. It was an unfortunate condition, one which he blamed entirely on his parents.

Marriage between two people of standing usually occurred for any reason other than love. Men married well-bred ladies to produce well-bred heirs, and ladies married to avoid poverty and achieve a place in society. Ideally, the lady in question married the wealthiest and most notable gentleman she could snag with her female trickery. That was the way of things.

His parents, on the other hand, had been an exception to such a societal tradition. They were in love. And to have seen them so enamored with each other throughout his childhood had given Philip hope for something more than the cold sort-of marriage most of his peers had to look forward to. He had hoped to find love for himself as well.

But that was all over with now.

Philip was completely finished with all of his silly notions about love. He would never again waste his time or energy on another woman. He was in no need of an heir and therefore in no need of a wife. Let his older brother, Spencer, worry about such matters. Philip was better off keeping a mistress. At least they knew what they wanted. They expected nothing beyond payment and a few trinkets here and there. They were safe, and could be replaced easily should they turn into nags. And most importantly, his heart would never end up broken between their legs.

“My lord?”

Philip looked up and saw his father’s butler standing in the doorway. “Rivers,” Philip slurred with a smile and half-lidded eyes. “Come and join me for a drink, old man.”

Rivers surveyed the broken glass on the floor to his left, the streaks of liquid on the wall and the ruined painting of the current Lord Willingham’s father, the eighth Duke of Willingham. Then he surveyed the broken man before him. “I think you have indulged enough for one evening, my lord.”

“Nonsense, Rivers,” Philip said and then tried to stand. “I’ve only just started
.” I really must buy better boots,
he thought hazily as he fought for balance. “But I’m sad to say I’ve run out of brandy.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed, my lord,” said Rivers, tilting his head towards the shards of crystal on the floor.

“Rivers,” Philip said and moved towards the butler on wobbly legs. “Be a gem and — oomph!” He tripped over the leg of the chaise in the middle of the library.

Rivers rushed forward and tried to help Philip stand. “Lord Philip, I think you should retire now.”

“I didn’t ask you what you thought, Rivers,” Philip snapped as he shoved away the butler’s hands. He lost his balance and again sank to the floor. He leaned back against the edge of the offending chaise and draped his arm over the seat cushion. He was silent for some time before he said, “She rejected me, Rivers.”

Rivers inhaled deeply. “I figured as much, my lord.”

Philip rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. “She is engaged to Norland. He proposed to her yesterday. I didn’t even know they were acquainted.”

Rivers nodded. “Yes, women do have a way of keeping their secrets, my lord.”

Philip’s head snapped up. “They damn well do, at that. They seem to love keeping them from me, in particular. I’m only glad Spencer is off in Egypt or India … wherever he is this month. He’ll be the next duke and he is far richer than Norland and I combined. There would be no hope for me at all if he were in town.”

“You are young, yet, my lord. I’m sure you will find someone.”

“All I want to find right now is a bed, Rivers. I’m very sleepy all of a sudden.”

Philip grabbed hold of the chaise for support and pulled himself up to stand. This time when Rivers approached him to offer help, he did not refuse. He threw his arm over the old man’s shoulders.

Philip smiled stupidly. “You really are a great man, Rivers.”

“I appreciate the compliment, my lord,” said Rivers through a laugh. “To your old chamber?”

“Yes, and, uh,” Philip slurred and grabbed his stomach, “might want to leave the chamber pot in reach.”

Rivers chuckled. “You’re a terrible drunk, my lord.”

“I know,” said Philip, and then halted his uneven gait. “Rivers, don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord, though most men are far worse drunks than you. You needn’t be embarrassed.”

“No,” Philip said sternly. “Don’t mention what happened with Charlotte to anyone. It is bad enough all of London found out about Georgiana when it happened. I don’t want that kind of humiliation again.”

Philip knew very well that all the maids, butlers, cooks, and footmen gossiped endlessly about their employers’ lives. Only his father and Rivers had known he meant to propose to Charlotte. His father knew because Philip had asked him for his grandmother’s ring. Rivers knew because he’d been in the room at the time. But if the rest of the staff found out, by noon tomorrow the whole of London would know about his
second
failed attempt to secure a wife.

And news would travel faster than normal this time, Philip would wager. Georgiana had cancelled their engagement to marry a marquess, and now Charlotte had snubbed him for an earl. Gossip of such sort was far too delicious not to spread around town like fire through a field of dry grass. Philip refused to suffer such public indignity a second time.

“Of course, my lord,” said Rivers instantly. “No one will hear of this from me.”

“Good,” said Philip, assured the old man would keep his word. Rivers had been with his family since before Philip was born. The aging butler was nothing if not loyal. “Let’s go, then.”

The journey to Philip’s old bedchamber was an exhausting expedition which contained several more falls to the floor, one nearly down the stairs, and the breaking of a rather ill-placed vase in the upstairs hallway.

“Shall you be requiring anything else, my lord?” Rivers asked, thoroughly winded after finally completing the task of putting a drunken man to bed.

“No,” Philip grunted and flung away the green coverlet. “Just make certain I’m not disturbed.”

“As you wish,” Rivers said, and then left the room.

By the time the door clicked closed, Philip was already in a deep sleep.

• • •

“Rise and shine, my son!”

“Oh, Christ,” Philip moaned as he slapped his hands over his eyes. His father had pulled open the heavy drapes that hung in front of the windows, allowing the light of the morning sun to burst into the room. Philip pulled his hands away from his face and tried to open his eyes, but the bright rays attacked them like needles. He covered his eyes again quickly. Why did his room have to face east?

The duke chuckled at his son’s struggle. “Suffering deservedly, I see.”

“I deserve this?” asked Philip, eyes still covered.

“Indeed,” said the duke, and clasped his hands together behind his back. “I surveyed the damage you inflicted upon my library. One crystal decanter and glass broken to bits, a few rare books destroyed, and the wall will need repairing as well. Not to mention the obliteration of one of your mother’s vases in the north hallway. Good God, Philip,” the duke scolded. “If you’re going to get roaring drunk and break everything in your path, at least do it in your own lodgings. It’ll cost me less.”

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Oh yes, I had almost forgotten,” the duke amended. “You also destroyed a particularly disturbing portrait of my father, but for that one I shall issue thanks.”

Philip peered through his fingers to see his father smiling. He dropped his hands, but kept his eyes squinted. “Have you come to my chamber solely to irritate me, or have you some other purpose?”

“The latter,” the duke confirmed and sat down in the blue upholstered chair next to Philip’s bed. It was the same chair he used to sit in and tell his son stories before bed. “Though the former would be fun,” he added. “Your mother learned of your drinking this morning and has sent me to ascertain your condition. And given the way you are grimacing, I am fairly certain I can say you are miserable.”

“Even if my head were clear of pain, I’d still be miserable.”

The duke nodded knowingly. “Then I take it my mother’s ring has resumed its position among the other family jewels.”

Philip sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed. “Yes, it has.”

“I’m sorry. I know you cared for her.”

“I’m glad to be rid of her.”

One of the duke’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “Have I missed something? I thought you wanted to marry her.”

“I did,” Philip explained, “but as it turns out, she wants to marry the Earl Norland instead. They’re recently engaged.”

A look of disgust came over the duke’s face. “Norland?” he asked.

Philip nodded. “Norland.”

“Their children will be hideous.”

“I know,” Philip agreed.

“I am sorry she rejected you, but I cannot tell you how relieved I am that she did,” the duke confessed. “You are far too young to worry about marriage.”

“Yes, that’s another epiphany I’ve had.”

“You need to enjoy your youth. Run around with a woman or two.” The duke chuckled. “Or three or four. You can have as many as you want. I did before I married your mother.”

“That’s a very attractive idea, father, but what else will I do with myself? Surely the greatness of freedom cannot simply amount to having multiple women as a lone incentive … though that does sound quite nice.”

The duke shrugged his shoulders. “Society would expect you to become a clergyman, but I say do as you like. Travel, paint, or write. Dabble with business ventures. Enter into the military and enjoy a career as an officer. If Spencer ever grows up and returns from his travels, you’ll very likely never have to worry about the responsibilities your brother will, Philip. You can do anything that pleases you … within limits, of course.”

“Of course,” Philip agreed halfheartedly.

The duke nodded his head in approval. “Well, I’ll leave you to dress now. Breakfast has been set out and your mother is eager to assess your condition for herself.”

“I’ll be down in a while. Oh, and father,” Philip said hesitantly before the duke made his exit. “I don’t want mother to know about Charlotte. She’ll make too much of a fuss and I don’t want the pity.”

“It is your business to tell, Philip, if you so choose. But I daresay she will ask you about the girl at some point. You courted her for three months, after all.”

“I know, I know. I’ll think of something.”

• • •

Half an hour later, Philip walked into the breakfast room.

“Philip!”

“Christ, Mama,” Philip said gruffly and covered his ears. “Don’t speak so loudly.
Please
.”

“Philip George Lewis Ravenshaw, you will not use such blasphemous language in this house, especially not around guests.”

“What guests?” Philip looked at the people seated around the table.

“Your sister’s friend, Lady Lillian Charlesworth, of course,” she said, indicating the girl.

“She’s not a guest,” Philip stated simply and went to the buffet table to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t think he would be able to handle sausages or bacon just yet. In truth, he didn’t think he would be able to handle the tea, but he was going to try.

“Of course she is!”

Philip winced at his mother’s high pitch.

“Mama,” he said as he sat down and began massaging his temples. “Lillian and Amelia have been friends since they were both five years-old. She’s hardly a guest anymore.”

Philip looked across the table at Lady Lillian and winked. The girl blushed. At seventeen, Lillian was considered of age, like his sister, but Philip thought of her as just that, another sister. Her blond hair, rosy skin, and green eyes would attract many a suitor when she finally made her debut in society. Men could rarely ignore such exquisite beauty, but Philip was fraternally immune.

Amelia in comparison looked nothing like her friend. Oh, she was beautiful in her own right, but certainly not in a traditional sense. Like the rest of the family, Amelia had a full head of dark brown hair. But unlike the rest of the family, her dark brown hair curled wildly.

Her eyes were so brown they were nearly black, like Spencer’s and their father’s. Such ominous-looking eyes had always served both men well in situations when intimidation was necessary. Amelia, however, had been able to use her dark eyes to charm others since birth. Even Philip (whose own eyes were a bright, happy blue, like his mother’s) was susceptible. She had never failed in getting what she wanted from him. Philip felt sorry for the poor fool who was destined to be her husband. He would likely spend the whole of his life doing her bidding.

“Father says we’re to be quiet because you have a headache,” said Amelia in an unnaturally loud tone.

Philip nearly dropped his teacup. Tea sloshed over the rim and scalded his hand. So much for his sister being charming this morning. He could hear his father stifling a laugh from behind his newspaper, and Lillian was doing her best to hide her smile with a tightened mouth and a napkin.

“Amelia,” the duchess chided from the foot of the table. “You should have a little more compassion for your brother.”

“Why?” Amelia asked, again speaking very loudly. Then she allowed her teacup to clatter noisily with its saucer. That was the last straw.

“Christ above,” Philip hissed at her. “I will hang you from the rafters by the strings of your corset if you make another sound.”

“Philip!” his mother shrieked, which caused Philip to experience another wave of pain. He grabbed his head and tried to massage away the throbbing. Didn’t they realize what they were doing to him? There was no mistaking Amelia did.

“Vivian,” the duke said softly with a smile. “Your volume is not doing much to help his condition.”

“Well, he deserved it that time, Geoffrey. Corset strings indeed!” She reached for the marmalade just beyond her plate. “I tried to rear perfectly well-mannered children and what did I get? A couple of surly creatures whose behavior is dangerously close to that of baboons!”