Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

M ax Dennis liked nothing more than to be the first in the breakfast room after a ball, reveling in the peace before other guests came down or came in from a morning walk in various states of disrepair. But it felt strange on that particular morning, being in the house where he grew up, which was no longer his own. Familiar and yet foreign, all at once.

"Coffee, Your Grace?" the lone footman asked.

Max smiled at the man. "I can pour it myself. Do not fuss, Cooper."

"Of course, Your Grace."

The footman retreated to the periphery of the room, standing a touch awkwardly as the post-dawn light crept in through the windows. It appeared that none of the staff at Greenfield House quite knew how to behave around their former Earl, who now had the title of ‘Duke' and a different residence, far from the home of his youth.

"Actually, I do not suppose the papers have arrived yet?" Max said, duly pouring his own cup of weak coffee.

The footman hesitated. "I will look at once."

Alone for at least a short while, Max got up from his seat and wandered to the windows, looking out at the exquisite grounds he cherished so much. From his viewing spot, he could see the gate that led into the ornamental gardens, and the walled gardens beside it that contained the most beautiful roses in the summer. Off to the right, was a great oak tree, missing its greenery as the colder weather drew in.

"Your Grace!" a strained voice made him turn, half expecting to find Cooper there, apologizing profusely that the papers had not yet arrived.

Instead, the housekeeper stood in the doorway, wringing her blue-veined and liver-spotted hands. Mrs. Pollock had been at Greenfield House for as long as he could remember, her gray hair scraped back in a severe bun, her appearance austere, belying the heart of gold that lay beneath.

Max had been sorry not to be able to take Mrs. Pollock to Harewood Court with him when he moved into his new residence, but there had already been a complement of staff in situ, and he had not wanted to ruffle any feathers by replacing them with too many of his own servants.

"I'm glad to have caught you before anyone else comes down to breakfast," the housekeeper said, closing the door behind her. She stood in front of it like she meant to hold off a horde with just her chatelaine and her wits. "You retired early last night, didn't you?"

Max frowned. "I did."

"There was a… mishap an hour or so after you took to your chamber," Mrs. Pollock said haltingly. "Master Richard—I mean, His Lordship, didn't want you to be woken, and I did my best to obey his wishes, but I can't stay silent on the matter. Everyone will be speaking of it at breakfast, and I couldn't bear the thought of you not knowing."

Max's frown deepened, as he wet his dry throat with a sip of coffee. "Not knowing what exactly? What manner of mishap?"

Dickie… Dickie has made a fool of himself in some way. It would not have been the first time nor, to Max's dismay, the last. He had hoped that being given the earldom would teach his brother some responsibility, but a change in title did not mean a change in character.

"A scandal, Your Grace," Mrs. Pollock replied, voice trembling. "He was seen… He was caught in your old study with Lady Caroline. Another lady witnessed it, and she went off into the ballroom, wagging her tongue about it, telling all who'd hear. It'll be in the scandal sheets this morning, tomorrow at the latest; I know it will. All of the worst gossips of society were here last night—there's no possible way it won't be known."

Of all the things that Max had been bracing to hear, he was not prepared for that.

His fingers tightened on the dainty handle of the teacup, his jaw clenching as he turned back to the beautiful view, now soured by his brother's idiocy. Hissing each breath through his teeth, he watched the bony limbs of the oak tree shiver as an ill wind swept through, fighting to calm his mind enough to think of how to proceed.

Lady Caroline? What were you thinking, Dickie? He had made no secret of the fact that he did not approve of his brother's friendship with Caroline. He had not forgotten how she had burst into his bedchamber in the dead of night, thinking it was Dickie's, and, deep down, he supposed he had known that something like this might happen if they were not distanced from one another.

To his mind, men and women could not be friends, for this very reason.

It was why he had been comforted, almost, when his sister had shown such distaste for Percival. When they had fallen in love, it had been a huge shock. Max was overjoyed, of course, that his best friend and his sister had found one another, but it had required some readjustment on his part. In truth, he was still getting used to it.

He rallied quickly. First things first.

"Is Lady Caroline still in her guest chambers?"

Mrs. Pollock shook her head. "She departed not long after the news began to spread, accompanied by her brother and his wife. I can't say if he heard or not—though I'm inclined to think not, as he would surely have demanded satisfaction—but he'll know soon enough."

Max cursed under his breath. "Thank you for informing me, Mrs. Pollock. You did the right thing."

And now, my brother will have to…

Setting down his cup with such force that the handle broke, tiny fragments of ceramic dusting the tablecloth, Max passed Mrs. Pollock and headed out of the room with just one destination in mind.

He did not bother to give Dickie the courtesy of knocking, barreling straight into the bedchamber as loudly and angrily as the situation demanded. His ire only increased, simmering in his veins, as he looked to the bed and found Dickie emerging blearily from sleep.

"I am surprised you have been able to rest at all, considering what you have done," Max barked, striding to the windows to wrench open the drapes.

Brutal morning light struck Dickie's face, and he recoiled like a rat whose hiding place had been discovered, squinting in sleepy confusion. "Why are you screaming?" he mumbled in a raspy voice. "Is the manor on fire? Have the French conquered us? Is there a revolt in the sheep fields?"

"There will be a revolt if you do not sit up and heed me, this very moment," Max replied, staring at his brother with the kind of authority he rarely mustered for his family.

I am to blame for this. He liked to think he had done his best to fill the rather large shoes that his father had left behind when he passed. It had not been easy to strike a balance between being the older brother, the missing father, the Earl of Greenfield, and then the Duke of Harewood, but he was beginning to understand that he had likely been too soft, too brotherly, too lenient with Dickie.

"If I had known you would do something so stupid just as soon as you received this inheritance from me, I would never have petitioned the Royal Court in your favor," he raged on, clenching his hands into tight fists. "And I have half a mind to make a petition to have me reinstated, but that will depend on your response to what comes next."

Dickie sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What on earth are you wittering on about, Max?"

"I do not wish to know the details, but I know that you have compromised Lady Caroline," Max replied tersely. "As such, you will marry her. We will ride to Westyork immediately and you will do the right thing and ask for her hand. We cannot beat the scandal sheets now, but we can reduce the destruction your antics will cause."

Dickie shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, his expression turning more serious than Max had ever seen it. " My antics?" he scoffed. "There were no antics, Max, but of course, you would believe what gossipmongers have to say about me. Perhaps, you might at least have asked me if it is true, so I could explain myself."

"Please do, though I doubt there can be any explanation that will not have the same outcome for you," Max said sternly, hating the way it felt.

He was not accustomed to truly scolding his brother, but there was too much at stake for him to be gentle now. Their father had always managed to be firm yet fair, giving his children affection while also demanding respect and good behavior from them all, and Max had no idea how he had done it so seamlessly.

"I sought to escape the ball—more specifically, Lady Joan," Dickie replied, pulling a blanket around his shoulders. "Caro was with me at the time, and she followed me when I made my escape. We took the secret corridor to your old study, and we talked and had a snifter of brandy. That is all. Yes, I know I should not have been alone with her, but it is ridiculous that two friends cannot speak in private, merely because one of them is a woman. It is so… archaic!

"Anyway," he added with a sour twist of his face, "it is Lady Joan who ought to be punished for being a Peeping Tom. What do you suspect her plan was, had she found me alone? It was not something appropriate; I am certain of that. Yet, out of spite or jealousy or some such nonsense, she chose to cause a furor instead, running back to the ballroom to tell tales like a bloody infant."

Max closed his eyes, digging his fingernails into his palms in order to gain some clarity from the pinching pain. It was obvious that Dickie thought he had done nothing wrong, and that would only make Max's next task ten times as difficult, for if there was one thing that Dickie was a champion of, it was stubbornness.

"You were alone with Lady Caroline. Whether you were merely talking or not, you were seen, you behaved in an ungentlemanly fashion, and now you will do as I ask and marry the girl," Max said in a slow, measured tone, so his brother would be sure to understand that he was quite serious.

Dickie snorted. "I certainly will not. Why ruin her life because Lady Joan decided to hunt me down like a limping fox? It will pass, as all gossip does."

"And if Anna was in that situation? Indeed, she was in a situation like that with Percival, and you did not seem so blasé then," Max pointed out. "And before you say, ‘well, that ended happily,' I would urge you not to forget that Anna and Percival ended up together ."

Dickie's mouth fell open, a faint crackle sounding in the back of his throat like he was trying very, very hard to think of a retort. Something that would weasel him out of marrying Caroline. But it was clear to both brothers that, for perhaps the first time in his life, Dickie could not find the words.

" Your reputation might recover, Dickie, but Lady Caroline's will not," Max pressed. "So, you can come with me and do this the simple way, or you can be stubborn and stay here and bury your head in the sand until Anna and the rest of the Spinsters' Club arrive at your door to tell you that you must marry Lady Caroline without delay. They will not be as polite as I am being, I assure you. After all, she is their friend and family, and they are more powerful than you."

For a long while, the silence stretched between the brothers, interrupted only by the shy chimes of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece and the mellifluous morning song of the wood pigeons awakening in the trees outside.

The household would be stirring soon, and Max hoped to be away before a single other soul could even think about breakfast… and exchanging the gossip of the ball over their eggs and toast. Perhaps, the brothers could make it to Westyork before Daniel Barnet heard about the scandal too, to avoid the possibility of a duel.

"Anna would agree with me," Max said quietly. "She adores Lady Caroline. It would break her heart to see her dear friend ruined because of her very own brother."

Dickie lifted his mournful gaze. "But… I did not do anything. For once, it was an… innocent exchange between acquaintances."

"The heavens do have a taste for irony," Max said, feeling somewhat sorry for his brother. Just not sorry enough to let him off the hook.

He could not be weak now when a young lady's future hung in the balance. True, Caroline was not his favorite person in the world, and he did blame the rash behavior that he had warned her about a few times before, but she did not deserve to suffer because his brother had been equally careless.

"You are an earl now," Max continued, removing all warmth from his voice. "You have responsibilities, you have duties, and you are a representative of not only your own character but your family's too. I am not asking you to marry Lady Caroline; I am telling you, as your brother, and as the man who can take this earldom away if you push me to it. But I would prefer it if you did the righteous, proper thing of your own volition."

Dickie narrowed his bloodshot eyes. "You would not."

"I would rather not, but if you leave me no choice, then so be it." Max had no idea if retracting the earldom was even possible at this juncture, considering everything had been signed and sealed at the Royal Court, but he needed his brother to believe that it could be done. And more, that he really would do it if he had to.

Throwing the blanket off himself with a face like thunder, Dickie sat there in the center of the bed, looking every bit like the petulant little brother of bygone days. And, for a moment, Max feared that his threats and commands and wishes would be soundly refused.

"I suppose you ought to saddle our horses then," Dickie muttered.

"You will not run?"

Dickie sniffed. "I did not promise that."

"Dickie…" Max's eyes flared with anger. "This is not a game. Do not vex me more than you have already. I have never made demands of you, and that is my fault, but this is the day when all my… leniency from the past has finally been used up. You will do as you are told."

A ripple of something unfamiliar crossed Dickie's face. A fear that Max had not seen before. "You really mean to make me do this…"

"I do, and if you are not at the stables in twenty minutes, I will find you and I will drag you to Westyork myself. Kicking and screaming if that is what it takes."

Dickie's throat bobbed. "Fine."

That single word sounded an awful lot like, "I dare you to try," but Max had a feeling that Dickie would not like what his older brother could actually do if pushed.

"Twenty minutes," Max repeated coldly, hiding his breath of relief as he headed for the door. On the threshold, however, he turned and offered a small smile to his brother. "For what it is worth, Dickie, I am sorry it has come to this, but I warned you often enough. This was a matter of when, not if."

"I am sorry, too," Dickie replied tersely. "Though I am sorrier for Caro, for you are about to dash any chance she might have to find true love."

Max sighed. "Then it is fortunate that I do not believe such a thing exists, and nor do you."

"I have always believed in love!" Dickie protested.

Max shook his head. "No, you believe in infatuations, in fleeting loves, in brief bouts of passion that fizzle as soon as they have sparked, and perhaps you might still carry on in that regard if you can convince Lady Caroline that yours will be a marriage of convenience." He paused. "But you will treat her well and you will not disgrace this family—now, get dressed. At once!"