The Other Duke (5 page)

“You can’t be telling me you actually
want
to marry this woman,” Crispin sputtered as he slammed his glass of whiskey down on the sideboard and sent amber liquid sloshing across the wood.

Rafe shook his head. “Of course not.”

“And yet you do not fight!” his brother blustered as he paced across the parlor, running a hand through his thick, dark blond hair.

“What would be the point in fighting?” Rafe asked. “You heard what the solicitor said.”

“Damn the solicitor,” Crispin growled. “He’s an idiot.”

Rafe pursed his lips. “But Annabelle is not and she said the same thing. Nothing can be done in the end, Crispin. I would either end up in a duel or wasting a good portion of a fortune battling only to end up in the same position as I am now.”

“Damn it, Rafe,” Crispin said, spinning to spear him again with one of those disapproving looks. It was disconcerting to see them on his brother’s face, for normally they went the other direction.

“We have a bad enough reputation as it is,” Rafe reasoned.

“As if any of us have cared about that,” Crispin said with a harsh laugh. “If anything, we’ve always reveled in it.”

“It is all well and good being the Notorious Flynns—”

“We were called that
once
in a gossip page,” Crispin argued. “How is it our fault that the
ton
doesn’t appreciate dancing and drinking and that we win their fortunes at cards and occasionally steal their mistresses?”

“All of which has been done in public,” Rafe said, his tone cool.

Crispin shrugged.

“But if I dodge this marriage, we will become worse than notorious. We will be
infamous
. And Mama and Annabelle do care what is said about us. Push too far and we might ruin our sister’s chances to marry happily, or at least well.” Rafe scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not willing to sacrifice her on the altar of my own pleasure. Are you?”

Crispin glared at him, but much of the heat had left his tone when he said, “Of course not.”

“Besides, there is also Serafina to consider.”

Rafe’s mind turned to her, as it had been for twenty-four hours. Her beauty and her intriguing personality were both a draw to him. He couldn’t deny that.

“She would be socially devastated by the breaking of the engagement,” he said softly. “Especially since her father has been quite indiscreet about the fact that I will be carrying it on. The young woman is an innocent, I couldn’t put her in such a position.”

“Oh, an
innocent
,” Crispin spat, as if the label were the darkest curse. “That sounds unbearably drab.”

Rafe flashed briefly to the softness of Serafina’s lips, the unexpected boldness of her negotiations when it came to their marriage, her unreadable countenance that he had begun to sense hid something far more interesting than what Crispin assumed and accused.

“You may be surprised,” Rafe said, sipping his drink slowly. “You will see when she arrives tonight. Serafina is more unpredictable than you might think.”

“How so?” his brother challenged, folding his arms.

Rafe hesitated. The two had always shared stories of their conquests. Hell, they had on occasion shared a conquest or two. But with Serafina it felt different.

But his brother remained staring at him in utter disbelief, and Rafe’s drive to defend the woman who would be his bride became stronger than his strange and sudden impulse toward discretion.

“She forced me to take her for a ride yesterday when I called and then demanded we negotiate the terms of our marriage,” he admitted.

Crispin blinked and his smug satisfaction in the fact of Serafina’s boredom faded a fraction.

“You don’t say,” he said slowly.

“I do,” Rafe laughed. “The young woman seems to be as intelligent as she is beautiful.”

Crispin groaned. “We know from the experience of living with Annabelle how dangerous
that
combination can be. Will she ever grant you peace?”

Rafe pursed his lips. If Serafina had her way, they would never speak again once the vicar had declared them lawfully wedded man and wife. He had believed that her reticence had to do with her feelings for Cyril, but now he wondered.

What secrets was Serafina McPhee hiding?

“Rafe?” Crispin pressed.

“I don’t think peace will be an issue,” he said, but it felt like a lie. “And certainly a little attention couldn’t be so terrible from such a lovely lady.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Dear God, whatever you do, don’t become enamored with the woman.”

Rafe laughed the order off with ease. “No, of course not. My duty, as she puts it, will be pleasant enough, I’m certain. But I guarantee you, brother, it will change nothing.”

Serafina was finding it nearly impossible to draw breath as she exited her carriage with her maid trailing silently behind her. She took a moment to gather herself by stopping to stare up at Alexandra Flynn’s townhouse. Her new future mother-in-law had used her husband’s money well, for the place rivaled the celebrated homes of those with the highest title.

“Which Rafe now holds,” she murmured to herself.

“I’m sorry, Miss?” the maid peeped from behind her.

“Nothing, Berta,” Serafina said with a frown.

The door to the townhouse opened before them and Serafina drew back. It wasn’t some finely liveried servant who greeted them, but Rafe himself. With the light from inside framing him, she was put to mind again of the angel he took his name from.

“Good evening, Serafina,” he said as he held the door open to allow them inside. A servant waited in the foyer and immediately motioned for Berta to join her. The lady’s maid looked annoyed, but did as she had been directed.

Serafina let out a sigh of relief once Berta was gone.

“Good evening, Your Grace. I am surprised to find you waiting for me.”

He smiled. “I can well imagine you would feel overwhelmed by this gathering. I wanted you to see a familiar face before any strangers met you. I can also call your maid back. Annabelle is quite close to her own, so we are not shocked by the occasional servant at the supper table.”

Serafina shook her head. “To be perfectly honest, Berta is a wretch who reports my every move back to my father. I am glad to have her gone.”

“Ah,” Rafe said with a sudden frown. “Then we should make sure she does not accompany you to our new home when we are married.”

Serafina’s eyes went wide. “Are you in jest?”

“No, I see no reason why you should staff your household with those you do not like. Annabelle’s maid can make suggestions of those who might be a better companion to you and you will interview them once the excitement of the nuptials fades. I’ll see to it.”

Serafina blinked in surprise. “You do take care of things, don’t you?”

He grinned. “What is the point of having power or money unless you can?”

She found herself wanting to smile even though his words struck a little fear in her. They reminded her of how easily he could control
anything
she did or didn’t do, despite his earlier promises.

“You even managed my father,” she forced herself to continue without allowing him to see her nervousness. “I admit I didn’t believe you would be able to convince him to allow me to come here with only his spy as chaperone.”

“I am quite persuasive, my dear, as you will no doubt learn.”

She stepped back out of habit as her stomach flopped. Images of Cyril “persuading” her filled her mind and she fought to keep them at bay. Fought to remember that Cyril was dead and that this man had not yet proven himself to be anything like his cousin.

“You are pale,” Rafe said, moving toward her to take her hand. A shock of heat and electric awareness jolted through her at the touch. “Are you well?”

She nodded, but the movement was jerky and she doubted it did anything to mask her concerns. “Of course. Simply…simply…”

She struggled for a word to explain herself to his man, one that would be truthful, for he was looking at her so closely that she feared he would read a lie on her face. But one that would also cover up some of her heart, some of her fears. Rafe had no right to those things.

He drew her closer as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come, you will feel better once you meet everyone and see that we are not out of control monsters who are slaves to our worst impulses.”

He led her forward toward a parlor. The door was shut, but she could hear the murmur of voices within. Her hands began to shake, her knees tremble, and she couldn’t help but cast her glance backward through the foyer toward the front door and the escape it falsely promised her.

Rafe opened the door and led her inside. She fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and instead looked at what awaited her.

An older woman with a pretty, open face stood by the fire talking to a younger woman who looked remarkably like her. And a man who was a slightly less handsome version of Rafe sipped a drink as he surveyed the dark garden behind the house. Rafe’s mother, his sister, his brother.

When Rafe stepped into the room, all of them stopped what they were doing at once and stared. Serafina shifted, readying herself for judgments or recriminations. But instead, the older woman moved toward the door with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, you must be Serafina!” she said as she reached her son. “I’m Alexandra Flynn. How happy we are to meet you at last.”

She took both of Serafina’s hands and squeezed gently before she turned toward the others. “This is my daughter, Annabelle, and my younger son, Crispin.”

The others came toward her, but they did not offer any less kindness than their mother had.

Annabelle Flynn smiled, and though there was some hesitation to the expression, there was also friendliness.

“Miss McPhee,” Annabelle said. “I’ve heard so much about you both from friends and from my brother. I’m so glad to meet you. And I tell you that it will be nice to have a sister to finally balance out the men in this family.”

Serafina blinked. A sister. She had never thought of it that way, that she would gain a family. Cyril had no siblings and his mother had never made things pleasant or welcoming in any way.

“Preserve us from Annabelle having a cohort,” Crispin laughed as he reached their small group. He held out a hand toward Serafina with a grin that put her strongly to mind of Rafe, though it didn’t make her stomach wobble as her fiancé did. “Miss McPhee. Welcome to our family.”

She shook Crispin’s hand. Just as she had sensed in his sister, she saw the hesitation in the younger brother’s eyes, the way his stare slid to Rafe briefly. For that she could not blame him.

“Thank you all for this warm welcome,” Serafina said as Rafe’s mother motioned them all to sit on the settees before the fire. To her surprise, Rafe took a spot next to her, his presence filling up all the space around her without even trying.

“You deserve nothing less after what you have endured,” Mrs. Flynn said with another smile for her. “These are trying circumstances for all involved. I am so very sorry for your loss.”