Chapter 6

Nathaniel wasn't a big drinker, not even after dinner while resting in the drawing room. However, Richard always insisted on having something for any and every reason. Richard didn't allow himself to lose control, but he certainly enjoyed his alcohol.

"A footstool, Your Grace?" his valet asked.

"Yes, thank you, Kent," he replied, lifting his feet. "Why don't you retire for the evening? It's quite late."

Kent noiselessly placed the leather-padded footstool under his feet and straightened. "I shall prepare what is needed and retire, Your Grace."

Nathaniel nodded. "You do that."

Kent bowed and left the drawing room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

"That man is dedicated to you," Richard commented. "Being a valet is not just a job to him, it's his life."

His brother was right. Kent didn't know how to separate his life from his work, which explained why he never married. They were around the same age, but Kent was slightly older. Nathaniel was considering looking for a wife for him, although his valet might think it was a double standard. Kent had hinted that his master required a wife and an heir, which Nathaniel had refused. Insisting his valet needed to get married would have the argument reversed on Nathaniel.

"Kent doesn't have much in his life," Nathaniel explained. "His parents have passed, he was an only child, and he doesn't have any close friends. He is very much a loner, so work is his life."

"That sounds a tad too depressing for a quiet evening after the play," Richard remarked. "You need to find him a woman. Unless he doesn't like women? Is he one of those?"

"I do not think so," Nathaniel replied. "He did seem interested in a maid some months ago, but she soon married a tenant, and that was that. I think he gave up."

"What a shame for a good-looking man," said Richard. "He just needs to find a young wife and have children. That will give him more in life."

Nathaniel laughed. "So says the man who refuses to settle down."

"My life isn't consumed with making your life run perfectly, dear brother," Richard pointed out. "I have a full life doing as I please, going where I please, and having the money and freedom to do it. Why would I wish to give that up?"

Nathaniel swirled his whisky as he shook his head. His brother's life sounded perfect, but empty, because it was aimless. Doing the same thing every day and never truly moving forward toward something was a waste. Everyone needed a purpose, even if it was something simple. Nathaniel wanted to be a good duke and leave a prosperous estate for the heir.

He crossed his legs at the ankle and sunk lower in the armchair, kicking his shoes off to get more comfortable. He had forgotten his London estate was one of his favorites. His late wife had fallen in love with it during their first year of marriage and insisted they purchase it so she could do much-needed renovations. Finkle Manor had belonged to an eccentric and near-impoverished aristocrat who was glad to get the crumbling house off his hands for a tidy sum. His only request had been to keep the name, which Beatrice had fortunately found charming.

The house had remained empty since her death, but Richard hired servants the moment he knew he had successfully convinced Nathaniel to leave his country estate for the London Season.

"What was the name of the artist your wife found on the side of the road?" Richard asked. "The one who did most of the paintings for this house?"

"Philip Costner?"

"Yes!" Richard exclaimed. "That's the man. I heard he's doing very well for himself. Beatrice undoubtedly helped him become an artist worth knowing. I recognized his artwork in the club the other night but forgot to say something."

"Good for him," Nathaniel replied. "He developed an infatuation with my wife and tried to seduce her under my very nose. Beatrice thought it was amusing and sweet, but I was ready to throw him into the Thames. People often mistook her kindness for interest, or they fell in love with her because of her soft heart. You recall that young man who declared his love during a dinner party?"

Richard threw his head back and laughed. "That spotted fellow with the long limbs?"

"One and the same," Nathaniel confirmed. "He is happily married now and no longer spotty. Beatrice wouldn't allow me to challenge him to a duel. Something about him being too young and all that. Amusingly, he was old enough to declare his love at seventeen but not enough to honor a duel."

"Would you have truly dueled with him?" Richard asked, still laughing.

"No, but I wanted to scare some sense into him," Nathaniel revealed. "He was an annoying little nitwit. He always invited himself to the house whenever I wasn't there and implied I wasn't a good husband because I didn't spend every waking moment with Beatrice. It was maddening."

The only problem with having a beautiful and kind wife was dealing with the multiple men who believed they would make better husbands. Some had even tried to become her lover. Fortunately for him, Beatrice never had eyes for anyone but him. The only thing they had lacked in their relationship was children. She couldn't carry a baby to term and believed she was a failure of a wife. Nathaniel often told her he would rather have her than be with another woman and have a dozen children, but he could tell it bothered her. He wished she had listened and stopped trying. Perhaps she would still be with him if he had been more convincing about his unwavering love. Beatrice's fifth pregnancy claimed her life halfway through. She had been so happy because she had passed the fourth month, only to leave him a week later.

"You know, if anyone should find a wife, it's you," Richard pointed out. "You are the duke. It stands to reason that you need an heir to keep the title in the family."

"Not unless you get married and have a child," Nathaniel countered. "If something happens to me, the title will pass to you. If we're both dead, your son will inherit it. I think you should do us both a favor and find a wife. You're the younger sibling, after all. I'm too old to start again."

"Too old?" said Richard. "You jest. Lord Denver is nearing sixty and has just married again for the third time. He keeps outliving his wives. That cannot be normal. They were all young women."

"Perhaps the authorities should look into the matter," Nathaniel suggested. "A healthy and young woman doesn't just die. Perhaps he is a vampire of sorts. He marries young women so he can live longer."

"That has a touch of the macabre, doesn't it?" said Nathaniel.

Richard shrugged. "I suppose so. Another whisky?"

"No, thank you. I still have my first glass."

Richard snorted as he stood up. "You have nursed that glass like a nursemaid with a babe."

Nathaniel lightly chuckled and sipped his drink while his brother fixed himself another. He liked having Richard around. His brother was good for his soul, but he could sometimes be unnecessarily insistent. Richard's wish to see him married again was not high on Nathaniel's list of things to do. He'd rather not endure the ordeal because he didn't want heartache. Also, he doubted he could love another woman again, not like he loved Beatrice, which wouldn't be fair to the woman. No one was as special as Beatrice.

As soon as his mind formed that thought, it shifted to Lady Eleanor without warning. Admittedly, Nathaniel had been overwhelmed by her beauty. Other men had also observed her, but she had seemed strangely oblivious to them. He was glad when Richard latched onto her friend, Miss Huxley, or they might have had a conflict of interest. Not that he intended to pursue anything, but he didn't want his brother to like the same woman. Although Julia was a beauty with her chestnut-colored hair and golden-brown eyes, Lady Eleanor eclipsed her with her touch of exotic beauty.

Usually, Richard preferred more exotic-looking women, but he was immediately drawn to Miss Huxley. It was likely her height. His brother liked women who at least reached his shoulder, whereas Lady Eleanor only reached their chests. Nathaniel could comfortably lean his arm on her head if he wished it.

"A faerie," he muttered.

"Did you say something?" his brother asked.

"Nothing in particular. I was merely talking to myself."

Lady Eleanor reminded him of a faerie with her head of golden curls, freckles, green eyes, and adorable dimples. He had been taken aback when she first smiled and revealed the indentations in her cheeks. If she had been beautiful before, those dimples had elevated her appearance to that of an otherworldly creature. Her plump lips gave her an exotic edge, as though she had something interesting mixed into her lineage.

"You're smiling," Richard remarked when he sat down with his drink.

"And?" Nathaniel asked. He hadn't realized he was smiling. "Is there a crime against smiling?"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say that," he replied. "I just don't see you smile for no reason. You're thinking about something or someone."

Nathaniel pursed his lips and said nothing. He didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of being right because he would rub it in for days to come. Richard wasn't above being petty.

"Oh, I see what's happening here," Richard claimed.

"What?"

"Do you think I do not know how you could not take your eyes off the lovely Lady Eleanor?" his brother asked.

"Are you certain about what you saw?" Nathaniel asked. "You couldn't take your eyes off Miss Huxley, so I doubt you noticed what I was doing."

"Oh, I noticed," his brother said. "I doubt you could see anyone else. What attracted you to her? Besides the fact that she's beautiful. You're not one to simply notice a woman's physical appearance."

Nathaniel couldn't really explain it. He had first noticed Lady Eleanor during the play. Or rather, he had heard her voice. Her box had been beside theirs and he had heard a little of her conversation with her company. At the time, he hadn't seen her, but he liked hearing the little bits of knowledge she shared with those around her. He still didn't put two and two together when he first saw the golden-haired beauty in white silk and diamonds until she spoke. He then realized it was the same woman in the box beside him.

"You really like this woman, don't you?" said Richard.

Nathaniel shifted in his chair. "Stop jumping to conclusions. I spoke to the woman for a few minutes. Why are you reading into this?"

"Because you spoke to her for several minutes!" Richard exclaimed. "Willingly. That speaks volumes."

"I speak to women all the time," Nathaniel pointed out.

"Because you have to," Richard countered. "You cannot ignore a woman who speaks to you, but you went out of your way to speak to Lady Eleanor. Why can you not admit that you like her?"

Because it was too quick for his liking. It was one thing to be attracted to someone's beauty but another to like them beyond the physical. Any man would be enamored with her loveliness, but then she spoke and surprised him with her intelligence. Nathaniel didn't expect Lady Eleanor to be so eloquent and interested in the play for more than its entertainment value. He thought she'd be just like any pretty woman of the ton. There was nothing wrong with that, but women who couldn't converse with him beyond the usual talk about parties, gossip, and marriage did not typically catch his eye. Fortunately or unfortunately, Lady Eleanor was different.

Ignoring his brother, Nathaniel rested his head against the cushions. He should probably turn in for bed, but he was comfortable where he was. It wouldn't be the first time he had fallen asleep in an armchair.

"Pursue her," Richard suddenly said.

Nathaniel raised his head from its comfortable position. "I beg your pardon?"

"Pursue Lady Eleanor," he elaborated.

"You're mad."

"Am I?"

"Yes!" Nathaniel cried. "She's far too young for me. I'm forty years old, and she must be around twenty or a little older. I could be double her age. Do you not see a problem with that?"

"No, I don't," his brother replied. "Older men marry young women all the time. Besides, you're fit for your age and have much to offer her. You're much better than men half your age."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Just put the thought out of your head and drink your whisky."

He didn't want Richard putting thoughts in his head. Nathaniel wouldn't mind seeing Lady Eleanor again. In fact, he had searched for her after the play. It had been in vain and greatly disappointed him because she had somehow disappeared despite being close to each other. Perhaps he should not have lingered and spoken to an old acquaintance, but he could not have spoken with the man for more than a few minutes, yet Lady Eleanor had managed to leave before he saw her. Nathaniel couldn't have been any more disappointed.

"This is ridiculous," said Richard, interrupting his thoughts. "You are ridiculous."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "I'm ridiculous because I will not heed your words about pursuing a woman? Have you become a tyrant just like that duke in the play earlier this evening?"

"I wish I could control you," Richard replied. "You're just too stubborn to listen to reason. You deserve happiness, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel widened his eyes. "You're using my name," he said. "You rarely use it. You must really be serious."

Richard banged his hand on the armchair rest. "Of course, I'm serious! This is about your future happiness. Do you really think you can find the love you need in those books you read? Academic pursuits will not and cannot replace companionship."

Nathaniel looked away and stared out the window. It was one of the few that didn't have curtains because he enjoyed looking at the night sky. It was bright, many millions of stars against a backdrop of black velvet and deep blue hues. Beatrice had loved stargazing to the point that it became a ritual every night before they went to bed. She used to tease him with the promise that she might wet the bed one day because she was always counting stars. Apparently, her nanny had believed that star-counting led to bed-wetting, which was a strange belief.

He smiled to himself. It was amusing how the smallest and silliest moments with his wife were the ones he often remembered. It gave sustenance to the belief that one should enjoy the little moments just as much as the big ones.

"Surely, somewhere deep within you, you agree with me," Richard said, pulling Nathaniel out of his thoughts. "You cannot sincerely believe that your way of life is right. What would Beatrice think?"

Nathaniel turned sharply to his brother. "Do not manipulate me by mentioning my wife's name?"

"It's not manipulation but a truth," Richard insisted.

Nathaniel shook his head. The uncomfortable topic had gone on long enough—he was done with it.

"You've been talking too much," he told his brother. "How much have you had to drink?"

Richard laughed. "Not nearly enough, and don't think I do not know what you're doing. You're changing the topic, but that's fine. I suppose it's too late to continue with it, but rest assured, we'll discuss it soon."

"I don't like threats," Nathaniel grumbled.

Richard rolled his eyes. "Only you would think that something that is clearly good for you is a threat," he said. "Anyway, I wanted to discuss having a dinner party here. I would have it at my estate, but yours is much better. What do you think?"

"Hold a dinner party here?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes."

"I do not know about that. That might give people ideas to invite themselves to the house."

Richard released a sharp breath of frustration. "You're in London now. You're supposed to be sociable. You can return to your hermit lifestyle after the Season."

Richard continued talking about everything they should do and who they should meet, but Nathaniel only listened with half an ear. As much as he tried to ignore his brother's words about finding a wife, they still weighed heavily on his heart. He would not readily admit it to anyone, but he was lonely. He hadn't grown used to being alone despite the years that had passed since Beatrice's death. However, he quickly abandoned the idea whenever he entertained the thought of moving on. He lost Beatrice unexpectedly, and his pain nearly made him follow her. He didn't want to go through that again. Nathaniel couldn't allow himself to love again, no matter how alluring a woman was. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't see Lady Eleanor again. She could be trouble.