5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

T he Duke of Somerton could feel a tremendous, irrepressible sigh building within him. Thankfully, he was in the privacy of his own carriage, and thus not able to be overheard. He'd kept his composure as he had spent another evening in the company of the Harrington sisters, but only just.

He didn't object to them per se, but the situation he found himself in chafed at him. The ton were a petty, gossipy lot as far as he was concerned, but a necessary evil to move through society. Unfortunately, the gossip had turned towards himself once again, a resurrection of the trouble he had thought to put behind him.

The carriage, well-padded and richly upholstered in velvet and brocade, was comfortingly insulated against the sounds and smells of London. Here, in private, was one of the few locations in which Alex felt secure being completely and totally himself; it was exhausting, having to constantly watch one's facial expressions and minutest gestures, lest they be misinterpreted in some way.

Even so, the thick traffic that always sprang up around Vauxhall Gardens did nothing to improve his mood. The carriages, traps, barouches, and landaus all crept along at a snail's pace, horses and vehicles all jammed together. Handkerchiefs were waved from windows in order to catch the attention of others, fans fluttered flirtatiously before faces when eyes met.

It was all a bit much.

The Duke was gazing out of the carriage window without really seeing the scenery as it passed by. A flash of colour caught his eye, a familiar taupe, at the same moment an unmistakable voice hit his ears. It was loud, singing boisterously. The Duke bolted upright, at last able to see part of what was causing such a logjam. There, on a bench just outside the entrance to Vauxhall, sat the Duke's brother, Viscount Richard Harrington.

Richard was sprawled in a most undignified manner, long legs splayed out, a silver flask in his hand. He was singing loudly, slurring badly. Whenever someone attempted to pass him and enter Vauxhall, he leaned over, half-yelling whatever doggerel he was belting out directly at them.

Alex, gritting his teeth, rapped on the roof of the carriage, signalling to his driver. The horses were pulled up suddenly, the carriage barely coming to a stop before Alex leapt out onto the pavement, his polished boots hitting the ground with a sense of purpose. As he approached the bench where Richard sat, the Viscount's boisterous singing grew louder, accompanied by the sloshing of liquor in his flask. Alex's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting with each step.

"Richard!" His voice cut through the night air like a sharp blade. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

Richard looked up, his eyes glazed with intoxication. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he recognised his brother. "Alex! Come to join the revelry, have you? Come, sit–you can toast with me!"

Alex's gaze hardened. "Hardly. I've come to put an end to this foolishness." He gestured to the flask in Richard's hand. "You're making a spectacle of yourself, and by extension, our family name."

Richard scoffed, taking another swig from the flask. "Always so concerned with appearances, aren't you, dear brother? Life's too short to be shackled by society's expectations," he drawled, tipping his hat sardonically to a group of ladies as they hurried past him.

Alex's patience wore thin. "This isn't about appearances, Richard. It's about responsibility and upholding the honour of our family." He reached out, snatching the flask from his brother's grasp. "It's time for you to come home and sober up."

Richard stumbled to his feet, swaying slightly. "And what if I refuse? Will you drag me back like a naughty child? You're not my governess," he argued petulantly.

Alex's eyes narrowed. "If that's what it takes to keep you from further disgracing yourself and our family, then yes." He bent down and hauled upward on his brother's elbow. "I wish your governess was here," he grunted as he attempted to pull Richard upright. Like a child in the throes of a tantrum, Richard went limp and slipped from Alex's grip, thunking back down onto the bench.

Richard's laughter echoed through the park, a bitter and mocking sound. "Ever the dutiful duke, aren't you? Always putting the family's reputation above all else."

"One of us has to," Alex shot back, his voice low and controlled. "I'm currently paying the price for my earlier transgressions: Before inheriting the title, I too indulged in a careless life, mingling with commoners, frequenting taverns, and cavorting with women, well...with her..."

Richard's eyes widened slightly, surprised by his brother's admission. Alex rarely spoke of his past, always maintaining an air of propriety and decorum.

Alex's gaze grew distant for a moment, as if lost in a memory. He shook his head, pushing aside a bittersweet recollection. "But that was a lifetime ago." A wall seemed to come down over him, cutting off whatever reverie he had been lost in. Back in its place was the stalwart Duke of Somerton.

Richard opened his mouth to retort, but Alexander cut him off with a raised hand. "Enough, Richard. I will not tolerate your mockery any longer. It's time for you to grow up and accept the responsibilities that come with being a member of the Somerton family."

Alex's grey eyes bored into his brother, his resolve unwavering. "I understand the allure of a carefree life, but we have a duty to our family and to society. It's time for you to put aside your selfish pursuits and start behaving like a proper viscount."

Richard's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of his brother's words sinking in. Alex placed a firm hand on Richard's shoulder. "Come, let us return to the manor."

Richard, however, had other plans. With a sudden twist of his body, he pulled away from Alex's grasp. "Wait, wait!" he exclaimed, his words slightly slurred. "Sit with me for a moment, dear brother. Surely you can spare a few minutes for a brotherly conversation. Even a duke must have time for a little frivolity," he wheedled.

Alex's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. The last thing he wanted was to indulge Richard's drunken whims, especially in a public setting, yet, as he looked into his brother's pleading eyes, he found himself wavering. There had been a time, forever ago now, when the brothers hadn't needed pretexts to have fun together. As Richard looked up at Alex, the Duke could feel his resolve failing, drawn in by their years of boyhood mischief. With a heavy sigh, Alex lowered himself onto the bench beside Richard, his posture stiff and unyielding. The wooden slats creaked beneath his weight.

"What is it, Richard?" Alex asked, his tone clipped and impatient. "What could possibly be so important that you feel the need to make a fool of yourself in the middle of London?"

Richard leaned back against the bench, his head lolling to the side as he regarded Alex with a lopsided grin. "Can't a man enjoy a bit of revelry without his brother's constant disapproval?" He raised the flask to his lips, taking another swig and smacking his lips.

Alex's hand shot out, snatching the flask from Richard's grasp. "Enough, Richard. This behaviour is beneath you." He tucked the flask into his jacket pocket, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "What's really going on? Why are you here, drinking yourself into a stupor?"

Richard's grin faded, replaced by a flicker of something darker, more profound. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the ground. "Do you ever feel trapped, Alex? Trapped by the expectations, the responsibilities, the weight of our family name?"

Alex's brow furrowed, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes. He knew all too well the burdens that came with their station, the constant pressure to uphold the family's honour and reputation; yet, he had learned to shoulder those burdens with grace and dignity, never allowing them to consume him. Still, they had both been thrust into the thick of the ton at a young age, their father passing before either of them were in their majority.

"Of course I do," Alex replied, his voice softening slightly. "But drowning yourself in liquor is not the answer, Richard. It never is. We are privileged, and with that comes hard choices, compromises, that we must live with." Though he was ostensibly speaking to his brother, Alex may as well have been speaking to himself.

Alex sat beside his brother in tense silence, his mind drifting to the recent encounter with the Harrington sisters. He found himself inexplicably drawn to the memory of Lady Rosalind, the fiery and unconventional middle daughter. Her sharp wit and independent spirit had initially marked her as unsuitable for the role of a duchess—society demanded grace, poise, and a certain level of decorum from a woman of her station, yet, as Alex recalled their heated debates and the passion with which Rosalind defended her beliefs, he couldn't help but feel a spark of admiration.

It had been a long time since anyone had dared to stand up to him in the way that she did, and Alex was intrigued in spite of himself. In a world where women were expected to be demure and compliant, Rosalind stood out like a beacon of refreshing honesty. She spoke her mind without fear of consequences, challenging the very foundations upon which their aristocratic society was built.

As the Duke of Somerton, Alex had always placed great importance on social graces and the ability to navigate the complex web of high society. A future duchess would need to possess the intelligence and sophistication to stand by his side, to be a partner in both life and the responsibilities that came with their title, but as he sat there, lost in thought, Alex found himself questioning the true nature of compatibility.

Was it solely about adhering to societal norms and expectations? Or was there something to be said for the spark of connection, the meeting of minds that transcended the superficial?

Lady Rosalind, with her flaming red hair and emerald eyes, had managed to capture his attention in a way that few others had. Her passion for knowledge and her unwavering commitment to her beliefs were qualities that Alex found himself drawn to, despite his initial reservations. She seemed the very embodiment of his more carefree youth, the wild idealism he had once entertained. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to her than met the eye. Could she be the one to challenge him, to push him beyond the confines of his own expectations?

Alexander's thoughts were interrupted by Richard's voice, tinged with playful curiosity. "What's on your mind, dear brother?" Richard asked, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "You seem rather pensive this evening, even for you."

Alex hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to share his impressions of the Harrington sisters with his brother. But as Richard's gaze remained fixed upon him, he found himself relenting. "I was just thinking about my recent encounter with Lord Harrington's daughters," Alex began, his voice measured and thoughtful.

Richard leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Ah, yes, the lovely Harrington sisters. Do tell, which one has captured the Duke of Somerton's attention?"

Alex's brow furrowed slightly as he considered his words. "Lady Rosalind, the middle daughter, is quite...unconventional," he admitted, his tone guarded but thoughtful. "She possesses a sharp wit and an independent spirit that sets her apart from the other ladies of society."

Richard's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Lady Rosalind, you say? She's the one with the topping figure, isn't she?" he asked, making a vague motion with his hands that indicated a soft, curvaceous body, which made Alex scowl. "And all of that red hair, too. It seems she's made quite an impression on you, dear brother."

Alex shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his hackles rising at Richard's implication. "It's not like that, Richard. I merely find her...intriguing, in a purely intellectual sense."

Richard's laughter echoed through the park, a playful sound that contrasted with Alex's serious demeanour. "Intriguing, you say? Could it be that the stoic Duke of Somerton has finally fallen under the spell of a woman's charms? And a firebrand at that! Go on then, go and claim your Boudicca."

Alex's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing at Richard's suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous, Richard. You know very well that I have no intention of falling in love, not after..." He trailed off, the painful memory of his past heartbreak resurfacing.

Richard's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing between the brothers. "I know, Alex, but perhaps it's time to open yourself up to the possibility again. Lady Rosalind seems to have a way of challenging your preconceptions. Besides, what's the point of life without a bit of fun and passion?" he asked, attempting to snake his hand into Alex's pocket for his flask.

Alex shook his head, batting away Richard's hand at the same time, his resolve unwavering. "No, Richard. I cannot allow myself to be swayed by fleeting emotions. My duty is to find a suitable duchess, one who can uphold the family name and fulfil the responsibilities that come with the title."

"Oh, come off it," Richard retorted. "What, is this Lady Rosalind Harrington prone to howling at the moon? Does she clean her teeth with a knife at breakfast? She's a lady, her reticule is undoubtedly full to bursting with a dowry—what else is there?" Alex remained stoically silent, his mouth tight.

Richard sighed, leaning back against the bench. "As you wish, dear brother. But don't dismiss the power of a genuine connection so easily. Sometimes, the most unexpected people can change our lives in ways we never imagined."

Alexander's expression hardened as Richard's words struck a chord within him. The implication of his liaison with Mary, his former love, sent a jolt of pain through his heart, a wound that had never fully healed. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the memories that threatened to resurface.

"Mary's departure will always be a part of my past, Richard," Alex admitted, his voice strained. "But it was for the best. We were not meant to be."

Richard leaned forward, his eyes searching Alex's face. "And yet, you still carry the hurt with you, even after all these years."

Alex's gaze remained fixed on a distant point, the weight of his responsibilities and the unexpected stirrings of his heart battling within him. He had long ago resigned himself to a life of duty, putting the needs of his family and his title above his own desires. Now, with the arrival of Lady Rosalind, Alex found himself questioning the path he had chosen. Her spirited nature had ignited something within him, a spark of curiosity and longing that he had thought long extinguished.

Richard's voice cut through Alex's thoughts, a rare moment of seriousness in his tone. "Perhaps Lady Rosalind is the one who can help you move past your heartbreak, Alex. Maybe she's the key to finding happiness once more. Let her be your phoenix, burning all of that away," he said thoughtfully, punctuating his words with a swoop of his hand and a whooshing sound of conflagration.

Alex remained silent, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Could he allow himself to open his heart again, to risk the pain of another loss? Or was he destined to remain trapped in the shadows of his past, forever bound by the chains of his own making?

Sat beside his brother, the sounds of merriment wafting from Vauxhall were a symbolic temptation: The prospect of amusement, of delighted senses, was just around the corner – all he had to do was go find it. Alex's mind felt heavy with the weight of recent events. The false rumours circulating about his alleged secret affairs had taken a toll on his reputation, and the frustration simmered beneath his composed exterior.

"It's preposterous," Alex declared, his voice rising with indignation. "These baseless accusations are nothing more than a malicious attempt to tarnish our family name." His hands clenched into fists on his knees.

Richard shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes averting Alex's intense gaze. Alex could feel him take a steadying breath next to him, having easily followed the trail of thoughts that had led to Alex's sudden outburst. "I understand your frustration, Alex," Richard said, his tone uncharacteristically sombre. "But engaging with these rumours will only fuel the fire. The best course of action is to rise above it all and focus on your duties. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

Richard cast his eyes down, his own past indiscretions weighing heavily on his conscience. "I know the price of scandal all too well, Alex. It's a burden I wouldn't wish upon anyone, least of all you."

Alex studied his brother's face, noticing the uncharacteristic unease etched upon his features. Richard's usual carefree demeanour had vanished, replaced by a haunted expression that sent a prickle of foreboding down Alex's spine.

"Richard," Alex began, his voice low and measured, "what is it that troubles you so?"

Richard shifted on the bench, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. He drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the words that were to come. "Alex, I must confess something to you, and I fear it will not be easy for you to hear."

Alex leaned forward, his brow furrowing with suspicion. "Speak plainly, brother. What have you done?"

Richard's gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet Alex's piercing stare. "I have been involved in a scandalous affair," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "With Lady Evelyn."

"The judge's wife?" Alex blurted, his face a study in incredulity.

Richard nodded, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping his gaze locked firmly on his feet. The words hung heavy in the air between them, and for a moment, Alex found himself unable to breathe. His mind reeled with the implications of Richard's revelation, the shock and disbelief coursing through his veins like ice. A burst of distant laughter rang out from behind the hedge of Vauxhall, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation.

"How could you be so foolish, Richard?" Alex demanded, his voice rising with each word. "Do you have any idea the damage this could cause to our family's reputation?"

Richard flinched at the harshness of Alex's tone, his shoulders slumping under the force of his brother's anger. "I never meant for it to go this far, Alex. It was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgement."

Alex shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. He could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his temple. "And now, your actions have drawn me into this scandal as well. As your elder brother, I'm meant to be responsible for you – this reflects poorly on us both." Alex stood, restless and agitated, and began pacing before the bench.

Richard sat sullenly, slouched and defeated. "At least this will pull the ton's attention away from you," he muttered. "No one will care about whatever they say you've done once this hits the scandal sheets."

Alex stopped his pacing, halting mid-stride. Realisation was beginning to dawn on him, a suspicion that turned his stomach to stone. "Richard," he asked slowly, his voice low and dangerous. "Why has the ton begun gossiping about me again? Why now, when I've been nothing but the very model of duty for the past five years?"

Silence stretched between the two brothers, taut and almost tangible with crackling anger. Richard averted his gaze in any manner he might, folding his arms, then unfolding them. "Well," he hedged, "I...I may know something about that. It's possible that I used your carriage to go to one of our...rendezvous."

"My carriage," Alex repeated. He drew himself upright, staring down at Richard. "Surely you don't mean the crested one?" Richard winced, answering the question without speaking. "Oh for–Richard, how could you? You know that everyone will recognise the coat of arms on it! The rumours are circulating, Richard, and they mistakenly implicate me as the culprit."

Richard's eyes widened, the gravity of his actions finally sinking in. "Alex, I never intended for you to be dragged into this mess. I swear it."

"What were you even thinking? You had to have known that it would be recognised. If you were meant to be carrying on a secret affair, how could you do something so obvious?" Alex demanded.

With a little shrug, Richard answered weakly, "Lady Evelyn liked being seen in it. It was nicer than my coach, and...she liked the prestige. Really, brother, believe me: I didn't do this to cause trouble for you."

Alex stood abruptly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Your intentions matter little now, Richard. The damage has been done, and it falls upon me to bear the consequences of your irresponsible conduct."

Richard bowed his head in shame, unable to meet his brother's piercing gaze. "I am truly sorry, Alex," Richard said, his voice thick with emotion. "I will do whatever it takes to make this right, to clear your name and restore our family's honour."

Alex resumed his pacing, his mind racing with potential solutions to contain the scandal that threatened to engulf his family. The weight of his responsibilities as the head of the Fitzwilliam family bore down upon him. The burden of maintaining their reputation and securing an advantageous match resting heavily on his shoulders. Now, more than ever, it was imperative that he marry well and quickly–he had to secure a match before this powder keg of gossip was well and truly ignited.

Richard, desperate to make amends, reached up and grasped his brother's arm. "Alex, I will do whatever it takes to make this right," he said again. His words tinged with remorse and a newfound determination. A determination that was only somewhat undercut by the fact that his words were still a little slurred, his voice thick with emotion and intoxication in equal measure. "I cannot let you bear the consequences of my actions alone."

Alex paused, recognising the sincerity in Richard's offer. His anger gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of resolve. Somewhere, beneath the mask of drunkenness and dissolution, the brother that had been his constant childhood companion, his most loyal friend, lingered. He knew that they would have to work together to navigate the treacherous waters of scandal and gossip.

"We must act swiftly," Alex said, his voice firm with determination. "The longer we allow these rumours to circulate, the more damage they will cause."

Richard nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound sense of purpose. "What do you propose we do, Alex?"

Alex's mind churned with possibilities, weighing the potential risks and rewards of each course of action. He knew that they would have to tread carefully, for one misstep could bring their entire world crashing down around them.

"We must find a way to divert attention from these rumours," Alex mused, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Perhaps a grand gesture, something that will capture the ton's interest and shift their focus away from idle gossip."

Richard leaned forward, his expression eager. "What did you have in mind, Alex?"

The sun was well and truly set now, and the lamplighters were moving down the streets, tottering about on their stilts. Alex watched them, feeling a kind of kinship for their balancing act, as he was now being forced to perform his own. His thoughts turned to the Harrington sisters and the potential alliance that lay before him. Perhaps, in the midst of this chaos, there was an opportunity to secure his family's future and ensure his respectable position.

Richard, sensing Alex's inner turmoil, placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, a gesture of support and understanding. Alex drew strength from Richard's presence, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the challenges ahead.

"Come, Richard. Let's go home."