Chapter 2

CHAPTER2

Leonard Ridlington, the Duke of Dunton wished to look particularly good that evening although he could not for the life of him explain why. It was a business dinner, essentially. Although, the present parties would be far more than mere business acquaintances.

He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if the dark gray trousers and jacket he had chosen for this evening would convey the image that he needed to convey. As he adjusted his cravat for the fifth time, he tried to go over the monologue he had in his mind. To be quite honest, it changed every time he tried to repeat it. Sometimes, it seemed too harsh as if he were forcing them into this. At other times, it seemed too mild as if he were pleading with them to agree and that they would be doing him a favor instead of it being the other way around.

He sighed heavily, leaving the cravat. It would have to do as it was. His steel blue eyes inspected his own reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t as pleased as he expected to be. He tried to convince himself that it was not the result of any nerves. Why would he be nervous? This was all his doing. He was the organizer. He would be the one with the business proposition. He was the one doing a favor for them if only they were smart enough to see it.

He never considered himself a particularly handsome man although his tall, lean build and his chiseled muscles said otherwise. His chin was strong, according to some even arrogant. He had inherited that trait from his father, but he tried not to let it surface too often. Still, he knew that he needed to show his teeth when it came to the business world because it was too cutthroat. They would eat him up alive if he showed them that he had a soft side to him as well. That was why his arrogance and self-confidence always took the lead, and this evening would be no different.

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, bringing him back to present moment.

“Yes?” he called out. He doubted that the guests had already arrived. There was at least an hour and a half left before the time they had agreed upon.

The door opened, and his mother let herself in. Her gown trailed behind her like a thin, velvety tail of a mermaid. As a child, he always thought his mother was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Effervescent and sparkling, she was the lift of every conversation she took part in. That was what everyone loved about her. She always knew what to talk about and always made sure that no one felt left out.

As years went by, her beauty did not fade. On the contrary, it took on a more mature look, like fine wine ripening in the cellar, just waiting for the right moment to be opened. Her face was devoid of any make up. There was just a slight dab of red on her still full lips.

Once, a long time ago, he caught her dipping blueberries on her lips, as she sat at her vanity table. He approached her, mesmerized by what she was doing. When she caught his reflection in the mirror, she immediately turned to him, and explained that she liked the color that blueberries left on her lips, and it was much better than any rouge she might purchase. She then proceeded to finish the process, and he had to admit that he had never seen her lips look more beautiful.

“Are you certain that this is a good idea?”

She came straight to the point which was a trait he loved about his mother. If she had something important to discuss or some relevant question to ask, she would not circle around it. She would immediately ask or say what was on her mind, not wishing to waste anyone’s valuable time.

“To tell you the truth, not really,” he said with a sigh, staring at her in the mirror. “I don’t know if this is what Father would want.”

“Your Father’s wishes, God rest his soul, do not matter any longer,” she said matter-of-factly, not as a result of any lack of love for her deceased husband but simply because life was for the living, not for the dead. “The brewery is yours. Whatever business decisions you make are solely your own, no one else’s.”

“I know,” he nodded, finally turning around. “But I also know that Father hated the Earl of Reeves. That is why they went their own separate ways.”

“He didn’t hate him,” his mother corrected him as she took a seat on the nearest chair, her back straight and her bejeweled fingers resting in her lap. “They started off as the best of friends. To tell you honestly, I thought it was one of those friendships that would last a lifetime.”

“You were wrong,” he pointed out although politely.

She smiled somewhat sadly. “I was, Leo.” There was melancholy in her voice, a longing for the olden days which would never return.

“But… what exactly happened between them?” he asked, aware that neither she nor his father had ever disclosed the real story behind what happened between them.

His mother waved her hand dismissively then got up. “Oh, it happened such a long time ago, it doesn’t matter any longer. In addition to that, your dear father is not with us anymore. Why dig up old wounds that have healed?”

Only, he wasn’t certain that all those old wounds were fully healed. His father hated the Earl of Reeves, that much was obvious, but at the same time, he still kept the man’s letters. Leo had seen them with his own eyes. Why would someone keep such mementoes of someone whom he no longer considered important or valuable to his life? It simply did not make any sense.

“Father was a proud man,” Leo said. “Too proud sometimes.”

He hoped that his mother might continue the story, that she might be tempted to somehow clear his father’s name in this story, but she did not grab the bait. She was far too wise for that. Leo should have known.

“We are all guilty of that transgression sometimes,” she smiled benevolently, walking over to him and placing her hand on his cheek lovingly. “You will see for yourself…” she paused as if she wondered whether or not she should continue then she did. “Sometimes, we say words that are intentionally meant to hurt someone. We say them in the heat of the moment, but we don’t mean them. But once they are said, they are out there. They have done their damage. We might regret them, but we can never take them back. This is where we draw the line how proud we are. Are we willing to say those most difficult words or not?”

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly those,” she confirmed. “It is hard. Much harder when it comes to someone we love.”

She pulled her hand away from his cheek and he felt its sudden disappearance. She stood in front of him, adjusting his cravat perfectly this time.

“To be quite honest, I think you should not busy yourself with this brewery all that much,” she confided. “You are a handsome young man who will make one lady very fortunate by marrying her. Why not focus on that instead of this brewery?”

Leo didn’t really know how to tell her that his marital status would also be the subject of discussion during tonight’s dinner. But he didn’t wish to reveal that part just yet. She would be there, and she would see it all for herself.

In fact, he was looking forward to seeing the Earl’s daughter. He would rather be struck by lightning repeatedly than admit it to anyone, but Jane Pratt was and continued to be the only woman he could not cease to think about. Her beauty was beyond compare. He had admitted this to himself thousands of times, but it was not her beauty or her beaming smile that taunting him so. It was the mere knowledge that she had been the only one he could not have.

Leo never considered himself a rake. It was a derogatory term for men who did not respect women. He had much respect for ladies of all social status. His mother had taught him better than to disrespect a woman in any situation. As an eligible bachelor, he had no one who obliged him to remain faithful, and Leo found solace from the world’s troubles in many a lady’s arms. Such situations benefitted both him and the lady in question since he always remained discreet about it. Hence, his reputation had never reached the true definition of a rake, yet he believed himself to be well versed in the language of love making, the same language which he yearned to speak to Jane Pratt although a chance had never presented itself.

Now, it seemed that he was able to create that chance for himself by offering her father this business proposition and fortifying it with something else, something none of them would ever expect. The very thought of the look on Jane’s face already made him smile. He had no idea why it brought him such pleasure. The hunter and the prey. That must have been it. That sheer desire to have what one always thought one could not.

“There shall be plenty of time for marriage, Mother,” he smiled, realizing that he had taken a few moments too long to ponder, and his mother was looking at him expecting an answer. He took her hand and planted a soft kiss on it, reverently. “As for this evening, I need you to be there by my side because you of all people know what Father would wish.”

“I told you that he left the brewery to you,” she was adamant. “I know he left it in good hands. If you think you can make it into a blossoming business then do it. If you think it is not worth the hassle, it is better to leave it.”

“You know I like a challenge,” he grinned, once again remembering Jane. What a challenge she had proven herself to be.

“I know,” she smiled back. “You are just like your father.”

“And proud of that,” he answered, letting go of her hand and taking one last look in the mirror. Somehow, he was completely satisfied with the way he looked. He oozed charisma, confidence, and assurance. There was a little bit of arrogance peppered in there as well, just for good measure.

“I shall go and see if everything has been set up,” his mother said, smiling softly then walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Leo inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He still wasn’t completely certain whether this was a good idea, but like he said, he had always liked a good challenge. Convincing the Earl to merge their breweries would prove to be a tricky endeavor but worthwhile in the end. He was absolutely convinced of that.

He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was ticking slowly. The time for the dinner was approaching. He straightened an invisible crinkle on his pants then turned around and followed his mother. He should also assure that everything was in its place this evening.

Nothing could be amiss. Nothing.