Chapter Two

"W here the devil are they?" Derek, the Earl of Trembley, asked his brother in the family parlor of Trembley Terrace. "It's not done, you know. Ladies don't just waltz about London on their own first thing in the morning."

He reached into his coat pocket and tugged out the silver pocket watch his father had given him nearly a decade ago. He opened it, made a sort of gruff noise, and glared at his youngest brother. It was half past ten in the morning, and their two female guests had been gone from the Trembley home for nearly two hours.

"There's no need to worry, Derek. They've just gone for their daily walk," his brother Alfred replied with a shrug. "It's something of a routine for them. They did it every day while in Philadelphia."

Derek snapped the watch shut and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Well, we're not in Philadelphia, Alfred. London is a far cry from what those two are used to and I should have thought that you would at least have managed to go with them at this point," he said, walking about the room. His eye caught the large portrait of their family hanging over the fireplace, and he paused as he peered at it.

It was a piece Derek had disliked when it had been completed nearly ten years ago. He had felt too old to be in a portrait with his parents and brothers, as that was mostly done with young families. His father had insisted, however, and no one had ever dared to question the late earl. He had been a man of unwavering conviction, propriety, and honor, and he had tried his hardest to instill his beliefs into his sons.

It had worked, for the most part. While Derek and his brothers wouldn't ever be categorized as ne'er-do-wells or cads, they all had their fair share of amusements, as any wealthy, entitled, and attractive young men could expect. Derek had even hosted a secret card game from time to time for the upper echelons of society, an event his father had never been pleased about.

"I've tried, but Leona has made it clear that she likes some uninterrupted time with her sister," Alfred said, pulling Derek out of his thoughts. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"So, you just let your fiancée dictate the rules?"

Alfred frowned.

"Well now you're making me feel as if I've done something wrong," his brother said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "They fared just fine in the States. And George went with them."

"We are not in the States," Derek said with the same disdain his father had often used when referring to the colonies. "And George is not a chaperone, although I might have to increase his pay for the added responsibility of watching after our guests. But regardless of what protection he may offer, the fact remains that they are ladies and should be managed as such."

"You'll have a fine time telling the former comtesse that," Alfred mumbled.

The silver-blue eyes of Mabel Meadows flashed unwantedly in Derek's mind. Alfred's affection for his new fiancée, Leona Meadows, was understandable—despite being American, the girl's polite manner and sweet nature easily won admiration from everyone. But her gentle comportment was not shared by her sister.

The former Comtesse de Retha, or as she insisted on being called, Miss Meadows , was a blistering western wind of a woman. With raven hair and a knowing smirk that always seemed on display, Derek found her most annoying, like a pebble in one's boot. She and her sister had only been in London for two weeks now, and she had done her utmost to appall him with the way she would constantly interject herself in private conversations, dress like a courtesan, and flirt with every male in his home, from footman to duke.

Every man except him, of course, which Derek was more than grateful for. She was the sort of woman who seemed as if she would be more comfortable in a tavern than a parlor room, and Derek had disliked her the moment she stepped into his home.

"She is a blistering woman," he said with a frown.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Alfred began, then laughed at seeing Derek's face. "Really. I will admit that at first she can be somewhat, well…"

"Loud? Abrasive? Intrusive?"

"Excitable," Alfred said diplomatically. "But she really is a kind woman. Her only desire is to see Leona happy and as I share her desire, we've come to understand that we have several things in common."

"Besides her sister?"

"Yes. For instance, she had two siblings—"

"Good lord, save us from another Meadows."

"But their youngest sister died as a baby. Their mother did not make it through the childbirth."

Derek's mouth snapped shut as a wave of embarrassed heat spread through him over his thoughtless words. Damn it.

"I didn't know that," he said gruffly.

"Neither Miss Meadows nor Leona speaks of it much. I did not know about it at all until Miss Meadows told me while we were sailing across the Atlantic."

"Why would she share such a thing with you? And why wouldn't your own fiancée?"

Alfred shrugged.

"Evidently it was a very painful experience for Leona and she doesn't like to discuss it, but Miss Meadows believed it was imperative that I know. She is very protective of her sister and doesn't wish her to know a moment of unhappiness."

Derek could understand being protective of one's siblings.

"Very well. So, she has the redeemable quality of caring for her own sister. One could argue that it's not so much of a virtue as what's to be expected."

"I was not aware that I was charged with listing her virtues—I was merely stating what things we have in common," Alfred stated smartly.

Derek sighed and rotated his hand in the air.

"Very well. What else do you have in common?"

"Well, Miss Meadows is a fan of card tricks. And cards in general actually. She always carries a set of playing cards on her and is a rather talented faro player."

"Is that so?" Derek asked. He had seen her dallying with a deck of playing cards once or twice. "Is that why she's always fiddling with those cards?"

"Actually, yes. She's a collector."

"Of playing cards?"

"Yes. She was rather excited about coming to England because she believes there's a better chance at finding a particularly elusive set of cards. The Flemish Hunting Deck."

Derek glanced at his brother.

"The what?"

Alfred waved his hand in the air.

"It's an antique set of cards, from the sixteenth century. She's talked about it several times since arriving. I'm surprise you haven't heard her go on about it."

"I try to leave the room whenever she speaks," Derek replied.

"A fine way to get to know someone," Alfred said under his breath, yet not quietly enough.

Derek gritted his teeth, annoyed to be chided by his younger brother. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound contrite.

"Is she any good? At playing cards, that is."

"I believe so. I've not played against her."

"No doubt she learned it from her previous husband."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Alfred cocked his head.

"Miss Meadows has a knack for insulting people in a very flattering way. It's almost charming. But there is little warmth or humor in her voice when she speaks of the comte. From what she has said, it seems as though he was a man with little nuance or knowledge."

Derek struggled not to roll his eyes.

"Well, what do you think a wife would say about her former husband?"

"I suppose that's true. But Miss Meadows is an unusual woman, even by American standards."

"I've never much supported the idea of divorce," Derek said, lifting his chin. "Marriage is simply a matter of math."

Alfred blinked.

"A matter of what?"

"Math."

"So, I heard you correctly," he said, disbelieving. "What on earth possessed you to come up with the idea that marriage was a matter of math?"

"It's quite obvious," Derek said simply. "Marriage should be an equation that totals up the value of person, station, and beliefs. If those three standards should match up with another person, then divorce would not be needed. It's people's lack of self-control that leads them to marry those who are unmatched to them, mathematically, resulting in divorce. Of course, some people don't consider these things." He shrugged. "But really, even when a couple is not well matched, they should still honor the commitment that they've made to one another. For what purpose should they get divorced? If they've chosen badly once, they seem all too likely to just marry the wrong person again should they try a second time. They should just stay married and keep away from the rest of society."

Alfred tilted his head.

"I see. And have you told Silas about your beliefs on marriage and divorce then?"

The smugness Derek possessed for a brief moment disappeared as his shoulders dropped. His oldest friend, Silas, the Duke of Combe, had himself divorced his first wife nearly three years ago. In that case, well and truly, it had been the only logical thing to do. He had been miserable and in such a way that his marriage had wrecked his mind. Thankfully, Silas met his second wife, Clara, shortly after he returned to society and had been blessedly happy ever since.

"That was different," he said in defense of his friend and himself. "The only other option Silas had was to lose his mind if he stayed married to that devil of a woman."

"Well, how do you know Miss Meadows didn't have an equally good reason for ending her marriage?"

Derek opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut. He didn't much care if she had a good reason or not. All he knew was what he had read in the papers. That she was a social climber who had abandoned her husband. That and everything else about Mabel Meadows made him uncomfortably agitated. He highly doubted her motives for divorce were anywhere near as justifiable as Silas's.

His brother eyed him, a hint of humor on his lips.

"My, how you've changed, Derek. Wasn't it just two Octobers ago that you were supposedly having an affair with—"

"Come, Alfred, that was different."

"How so?"

"I wasn't the one married."

Alfred let out a barking laugh.

"Ah, I see. When did you become such a stickler for the rules?"

Derek regarded his brother, wanting to argue, but knowing that he could not, for Alfred's words were nothing but the truth. There had been a time when he had simply ignored the rules, but his gambling and carousing days were decidedly behind him now. He revolved back to face the family portrait, his eyes steadily on his father.

The former earl's death—while not unexpected, given how his health had suffered his last year of life—still felt, at times, unbelievable. Derek had always believed that his father would overcome anything, including sickness. The former earl had always been the sort to command everyone's utter devotion. To be reminded that someone so forceful could be humbled by death had shaken Derek. For the first months after his ascent into the title, he had been numb, barely even registering what was happening around him as he was tasked with managing three estates, two terraces, a hunting lodge in Cumbria, a position in the House of Lords, several businesses from merchant ship investments to banks and more.

It had been a tremendous amount to learn, particularly since he had always tried to avoid his father's pointed, yet tedious lessons while growing up. Derek had always been more concerned with his own entertainment or that of his brothers. He also believed he would have ages to learn how to run the family's business affairs. And while his father had always been a strict man, he had not pressed the point too heavily. He had also likely thought that no illness could ground him and that there was time aplenty for Derek to grow into his responsibilities.

But that had not been the case.

"He can't see us, you know," Alfred said quietly, standing beside his brother, glancing up at the painting.

"Can't he?" Derek asked, more to himself than to his brother, as the tremor in his hands began. Instantly, he brought his arms behind his back and interlocked his fingers to stave them off—or at least to hide them. It was ridiculous, this new habit that had seemed to form following his father's death. Every once in a while, his hands would shake without reason, and recently, it seemed to be getting worse.

He cleared his throat before speaking again.

"It seems he's always watching us. Judging us from beyond."

"You act as if you believe he would be disappointed in what he saw."

"Of course, he would be," Derek said, facing Alfred. "I've managed to keep afloat all that he put into place, barely, but it's all so damn exhausting. And I'm aware that I shouldn't be complaining, and I'm not, but he always seemed to handle everything easily, while I seem to be drowning."

Derek stared at the portrait and wished that he saw more of his father in himself. But alas, the resemblance was not there—not in his character and not even in his features. While all the Trembley men had inherited their father's height and broad shoulders, only Derek had been given his mother's dark, reddish brown hair, and dark eyes. His brothers much more strongly resembled the late earl, with dark blond hair and green eyes, leaving Derek to come off as less aristocratic and far more severe than his brothers.

But such were the cards he was dealt.

"He always said he couldn't manage half his business without mother's help," Alfred said.

That was true. Their parents' marriage had been arranged, but they had come to deeply love and respect one another over the years. Their marriage was a true partnership, and it had been clear to their sons that they relied on each other in a way that was anything but common among the other families of their acquaintance. That's not to say they didn't argue. In fact, they often disagreed on things, but their ever-present devotion to each other and to their sons had meant that they were always able to find common ground in the end, which had in turn given Derek and his brothers a base idea of what was most important in life.

"I wouldn't bother mother with this," Derek said. "They're my own responsibilities." Alfred chuckled then, causing Derek to glance at him. "What's so amusing?"

"I didn't mean for you to pester Mother. I meant that, perhaps, you should find your own helpmate. Find a wife."

Derek rolled his eyes at his brother's obliviousness.

"As if it were that easy."

"It is."

"Not when you consider all the qualities that I require in a wife. Whomever I marry will be the next countess. She will have to be intelligent, diligent, and graceful. She will likely have to possess a strong sense of self, not to mention a commanding presence—"

"Good lord, she's meant to be a wife, not a general. I can't imagine having to seek out such a woman to wed."

"But the weight of this earldom is not on your shoulders, is it?" Derek said. "You may have the pleasure of falling in love and marrying whomever you like. My wife will require more than just my fancy."

"Careful, Derek. You're coming dangerously close to insulting me and my chosen bride."

He crooked back to his brother.

"You know I don't mean it like that. Your fiancée is a charming girl. It's just, as the head of this household, my choices are more scrutinized than yours. Although, as lovely as she is, I can't help but wonder…"

"If you're going to try and talk me out of this again, I'd really rather you jump out the window."

Derek sighed. He had tried three times to convince Alfred that he was making a poor choice in marrying Leona, but his brother wouldn't listen. He was set on marrying the American, which gave Derek a great deal of worry. His brother was so blinded by love that he couldn't see how ill-suited he was for Leona and she for him. He could only fear it would lead to unhappiness for them both in the end. But his brother had shown less and less patience with every attempt that Derek had made to get him to see reason. Continuing to press the point would likely lead to nothing more productive than an argument between them.

"Are you sure you wish to go through with this?" Derek asked before he could stop himself. "Marrying someone so vastly different?"

The good humor displayed on Alfred's face morphed into frustration.

"For the umpteenth time, yes."

"But they're both so different from us. The comtesse in particular, but your Leona is almost too innocent a girl to understand what a life in the ton would be like. She will not fare half as well as you expect." He shook his head. "It's a shame Agatha Brinsley married Lord Appleton."

If Derek had hoped that mentioning Alfred's former sweetheart might stir up some emotions of regret, it had the opposite effect. Alfred let out a laugh.

"Thank the Lord she did! Otherwise, I'd be saddled with her."

"But you liked her at one point, did you not? I believe you planned your trip to America to ease your heartache after she chose Lord Appleton."

"I did, but honestly, I will be forever grateful to Agatha for choosing Appleton over me."

Derek frowned.

"But why? She was a perfectly appropriate choice for you. Well spoken, demure, clever, but not so much so, and she was from a well-bred family."

"Yes, she had all the makings of a lovely English bride."

"Well then?"

Alfred's shoulders lifted and then dropped.

"I don't know how to explain it to you, Derek. Perhaps it's not something that can be explained, but as fond as I was of Agatha, I realize now that the infatuation I felt for her is not the same as love."

Derek stared at him.

"Isn't it?"

His brother rolled his eyes.

"I'm quite happy with my choice in wife, Derek and as to your worries about how we'll go about in life, particularly our social lives, I wish you would cease fretting. Leona and I will find our way. I doubt there is anything we cannot overcome together."

Derek couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes this time, so he twisted away from his brother and peered out the window that overlooked the street.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "And who knows? Maybe Leona will adjust well to life in England. Her sister, however—"

The sudden, sharp pat on the back knocked Derek from his thoughts and cut his words off abruptly. Frowning, he turned, only to see his brother's fiancée and Miss Meadows standing in the doorway. Leona was smiling, her attention solely on Alfred, but her sister was doing that half-glare half-smirk she did whenever she overheard something she wasn't supposed to.

Which happened often as she had a habit of appearing out of nowhere.

"There you are," Alfred said, crossing the room in several strides. He reached for Leona's outstretched hands and drew her close, although not too close, as he led her over to a seat. "How was your walk this morning?"

"It was lovely, thank you," Leona said. "I'm afraid we took a bit longer than usual, however. I hope George didn't mind. Mabel was curious how far Hyde Park stretched and so we walked the entire perimeter."

"Is that so?" Alfred said, glancing over his betrothed's shoulder. "And how did you find it, Miss Meadows?"

"It is very well kept. Not a hill or valley in sight," she said, her silver-blue eyes flashing at Derek, as a sudden discomfort lodged in his throat. "It must be quite a vigorous exercise for members of the ton."

Derek glared at her, aware of the insult.

"Mabel, please," Leona said softly.

"It is quite sufficient as an exercise," Derek said. "For proper ladies."

"Derek," came Alfred's warning voice.

"Oh, well then that explains it," Mabel said, her gaze shining with challenge. "Unfortunately, my sister and I are made of sturdier substance than blown glass."

"And I suppose the roughed landscape of Philadelphia allows for exercise of a more vigorous disposition?"

"The most vigorous, your earlship."

"Mabel, dear," Leona said, her tone somewhat high. It was apparent that Mabel had used the word earlship only to antagonize Derek, but before he could adequately set her down a peg, her sister stood up. "Let's go ready ourselves for the day. We shan't want to be dressed in these dusty clothes all morning."

For a moment, Mabel didn't move. Instead, she only glowered at Derek, who had the sudden outrageous desire to take hold of her and teach her some manners.

Derek blinked, then coughed and turned his attention away from her. There was absolutely no room in his busy mind for those sorts of thoughts. With all the weighty business matters to see to, he could not afford to be distracted, particularly not by the most aggravating woman he had ever met—one who was completely lacking in propriety and humility, and who was far too confidant for a divorcée.

No, Mabel Meadows was not the sort of woman he should have any feelings for other than disdain. Nor was she anywhere near the ideal sort of woman who would make him a proper wife. She was far too shrewd and beautiful, with an overly robust nature. The exact opposite of everything that should be found in a countess.

The sisters left the parlor almost as quickly as they had entered, much to Derek's pleasure, but the expression of reproach from his brother gave him pause.

"What?"

"Must you antagonize that woman?"

"Antagonize her? She was the one who implied that members of the aristocracy could barely manage to walk three steps along a flat piece of ground."

"And with most of the families living in Mayfair, she would be correct."

Derek scoffed. "Turning your back on your own kind then?"

"No, but I'm not above calling a spade a spade. Listen," Alfred said, standing up from the settee. "I know you don't like them—"

"That's not true."

"It is, though. And I can understand it, at least from your point of view. But Leona and I are to be wed and it would make me very happy indeed if you would at least pretend to be pleased about it."

Well, that was an unfair shot. Of course, Derek wanted to be happy for his brother, but it didn't negate the fact that Alfred had chosen the wrong girl to marry. As kind and sweet as Leona was, she would be eaten alive by the ton. She needed a stronger spine to enter this world, and Derek doubted she would last very long, which would only cause his brother grief.

But how could he protect his brother if he insisted on being allowed to make his own choices, as bad as they were?

Derek gave his brother a false sort of smile and nodded.

"Very well," he said unconvincingly. "I'll try to curb my behavior and limit my interactions with Miss Meadows, if only to make your life easier."

Alfred gave him a skeptical look.

"Right, thank you," he answered before shaking his head. "I should find Mother. She was concerned about something or other last night to do with the welcome ball we're throwing for the Meadows sisters tomorrow night. Evidently, it's not tulip season, and yet she's frantic to fill the whole house with tulips."

"Why?"

"You know mother once she has her mind on something. She is determined to send a message to the ladies of London that her son has made a love match. Or at least that's what she said when I asked." He paused. "Honestly, I think everyone is making too much of this."

"Well, as annoying as it is for me to agree with mother, I must. It is our duty to celebrate our own and to let all of London know that the family supports these marriages."

"Be that as it may," he said, shaking his head. "At least Fredrick agrees with me."

"Of course he does," Derek said. "He'd sooner run off to Gretna Green and avoid the pomp and circumstance of a lavish wedding—particularly if it meant that he could avoid being hounded by mother's aggressive planning. But it is to be expected when one marries, isn't it? I still don't know how she convinced you both to have a double wedding."

Alfred shrugged.

"It's easier this way, I suppose," he said. "Excuse me."

With a nod, Derek watched his brother exit the parlor just as he let out a sigh. It was not that Derek wanted his brother's relationship to fail, but really how could it not?

These American ladies, though monied, didn't have any idea of the responsibilities of the position the Trembley family held. It wasn't the Meadows' fault, but their country had simply removed hundreds of years' worth of history, leaving them with no foundation to understand the way things were done on this side of the pond. Should his brother marry a woman from such a background, it would surely end in misery. It would be best to avoid the entire thing.

As Derek exhaled, a stillness settled over the room as that last thought repeated.

It would be best to avoid the entire thing.

Yes. Yes, that would be best, yet how could he manage something like that? His brother would refuse to listen to reason. Could he recruit a friend or two to help him? Yes, either Silas, or Gavin, the Baron of Bairnsdale would surely be more than willing to help him.

Just then, the clock on the mantel struck ten, and before the chime ended, Derek was convinced of his plan. He would break up the young couple for their own good, and eventually, they would both see that he was right.