Prologue

Six in the morning, William thought, was the best time to begin working.

Awaken at five, dress himself so as not to disturb his staff, then find some form of bread and cheese or fruit, and then take himself outside to watch the sky. It was calm, he thought, and peaceful. Soon, the moon became the sun and that was his cue to retreat into his study and handle all matters bestowed upon a duke.

For the most part, in his case, this meant correspondence.

"A letter, Your Grace," would then be heard at around seven and twenty minutes after eight, and he would take it from his butler only to recognize the handwriting and put it to one side immediately.

He knew who had been sending them in spite of the fact that he had yet to open a single one. It was not in his interest to care, and he was sure of that.

Right until the clock struck eight and thirty.

There was no letter. They had arrived twenty minutes after eight, and nine and twenty minutes after, but never once had one arrived after the fact.

This could only mean that something bad was going to happen.

"Brother!" A voice rang out, and he quickly had his worst fears confirmed.

"Scott," he mumbled, continuing to write his correspondence, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Have you not received my last letter? It was to inform you of the end of my tour and imminent arrival in London."

"Ah, no. It must have been lost."

As William said this, he discreetly leaned forward so as to hide the three hundred and sixty-five letters whose arrivals had been an irritant since the beginning.

"To be sure," Scott smirked, "Regardless, my Grand Tour has come to an end, and although I am sure that you have missed me terribly I can only promise a mere few months before I leave once more."

"And which month might it be that you leave?"

"You wound me, brother."

William knew he was being unfair, but he couldn't help himself. They had not been afforded the same opportunities, given their roles as heir and spare, and he had found himself often wishing that they could have been given the opposite roles, although he had always quickly changed his mind.

If Scott were the duke, nothing would ever be done.

"It is good to see you, Scott," William said finally, standing to greet his brother.

"There you go. That is all I wanted. Well, that and…"

"And what?"

"And some time to see the city with you, of course! It has been so long."

"I am afraid that I cannot. I have so much to do here, and it is not feasible that I can take a day away from it."

"You sound like Father," Scott sighed, and William bristled.

"My apologies," Scott corrected himself quickly.

"No, no, there is no need," he nodded, "Do forgive me. It has only been six months since I took over from the man, and sometimes I do wonder if this is what made him the way he was. There is simply so much to do."

"Which is likely because the duke before you never did what was expected of him. He was a strange man, wasn't he?"

"Strange indeed, or some other such thing."

"Well, the work that he has left you has likely been there since he began his dukedom. One more day will not hurt."

But it would. Scott would have never understood, but William had seen the long list of tasks and quickly organized them by type, by date, and in alphabetical order. He made a second list of the dates that everything would need to be done by and then dedicated several tasks to each day. There was no room for error, no leeway, and it was exactly what was needed if he were to restore the dukedom. It was how he worked, and it wasn't going to be changing anytime soon.

Then again, he never could say no to his brother, not that he had the choice to.

"I shall dedicate an hour to whatever flights of fancy you have in store," William huffed, "And that shall be all."

"That is all I ask. Now, to the brothels!"

"What?"

"That is what one calls a jest, brother. I do hope that my absence has not made you immune to recognizing them. No, I was actually thinking that we could go to the gentlemen's club, perhaps see those two friends of yours?"

"They are not around," William explained, "One is doting on his newborn, the other off in Italy with his wife."

"Ah, yes, the dukes have started their married lives. Is there no sign for you starting yours as yet?"

"Not in a month of Sundays. Have you seen how much work I have to do?"

"Yes, and I can tell you that it all sounds terribly lonely. You ought to find a lady, any lady, and have her be a companion for you whilst you dredge through all of this. It wouldn't hurt."

Yes, William thought, it would.

"Your hour is flying by, Scott," he reminded him, "If you wish to spend it berating my choices then by all means do so, but it would only be a waste of our time."

"Then I shall leave you be," Scott replied, but there was a wicked glint in his eye.

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing, brother, nothing at all. Now, enjoy your work."

William did not like the sound of that one bit.

Regardless, he decided to put faith in his brother and take his offer at face value. He was simply recognizing how much work he had to do, thus leaving him to do it. A nice gesture from a nice brother, and it would have been if Scott were not the sort to plot things.

William was good at working. If there was one thing he knew he could do, it was solving problems and making things easier for himself. It was all he had ever done, and he was quite content with the feeling that it would be all he would ever do. A simple life charged with one task after another in a probably vain attempt to fix what his father did, but a simple life, nonetheless. The morning would become the afternoon, which would become the evening, and then at night, he would sleep and everything would be still and quiet.

Except that day, the afternoon became the evening, and the evening was not tranquil. It was loud. So loud, in fact, that William could clearly hear voices and music in the ballroom all the way from his study, which he had placed in another building entirely, across the gardens where he would not have to hear the comings and goings of his staff.

Scott.

"What is the meaning of this?" He bellowed as he entered the ballroom, his brother already smirking, "Did I not tell you that I have no time for your antics?"

"You told me you have an hour," he grinned in response, "Spend it here, with us."

"No, Scott. Unlike you, I have duties to undertake and I am choosing to undertake them. We cannot all go gallivanting off doing God knows what with God knows whom."

"You choose to do it to yourself. You cannot expect pity for that."

"I do not want your pity, I want your respect."

"And I respect you enough to have concern for you. Do you respect me enough to indulge me, even a little?"

"No, I do not. I think it would be best for you to have these schemes concocted on your time, and not on mine."

"Very well," Scott sighed, "You can return to your study and pretend that you are some great duke, and I shall enjoy what life has to offer me."

"Your life and the way you can throw it away is thanks to me, you know."

"Then I give you thanks, but do not forget that without me you are practically a recluse."

"I do what is necessary."

"Is that so? Did you deem it necessary to move so far from us all? You chose to live in London, after all."

"It was necessary. You know that."

Not a day went by when he did not chastise himself for abandoning his brother and mother in an attempt to escape his father, but he simply could not continue with the fa?ade. He couldn't handle one more second of his father telling everyone what a fine duke his son would make and how it was all thanks to him.

"Tell me," Scott sighed, "What would Mother think of you if she saw you now?"

He was trying to hurt William, and he had succeeded. He hadn't seen her since the day he left, even though his father had been gone for months. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her; it was that he couldn't face the household. It was too raw, too painful.

"Get out," William seethed.

"What?"

"Truly, you are incompetent," he snarled, "I shall not repeat myself a third time, so perhaps you may wish to listen. Get out."

The two brothers locked eyes for a moment, and William was sure he could see the faintest trace of fear in his younger brother's eyes. He hated it, hated that he could be anything like their father was, but it had to be done. It was the only way that he would learn.

He shuddered as he thought this.

"Very well," Scott nodded, "Have no fear, brother, I shall not darken your doorway again. You can enjoy your life of misery whilst I try to find some joy in my own. Perhaps one day you may actually find some joy of your own, and should you do that I advise you to come and find me."

He then turned on his heel and walked out. The guests seemed to glance around, shifting as though they did not know what to do with themselves before coming to the understanding that the duke did not want any of them there. They filed out of the ballroom and into the evening air, and for a moment William wondered if he had made the right decision, after all.

Surely enough, the next morning, when he arrived at breakfast, any regret that he had dissipated upon seeing Scott sitting on the table, biting into an apple.

"The green ones truly are the best, do you not think?" He asked, a line of juice falling down his chin as he smirked.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because I cannot leave on such terrible terms, especially given your reputation in the ton. It is precarious enough as it is without adding a feud with your darling brother into the mix."

"My reputation is none of your concern."

"What's yours is mine, is it not?"

"Scott, why are you truly here?"

It was then that his face fell slightly.

"You mustn't tell Mother."

"Oh, God," he sighed, "What is it?"

"I may or may not have sold Berbrooke House."

"Why on Earth did you do that?"

"Well, I didn't sell it so to speak. I allowed a friend of mine to stay there for a while."

"And who is he? Do I know of him?"

"She," he said carefully, "is a friend of mine that I know for certain you have never met."

"Please tell me that you are not tempting scandal. I have enough to deal with as it is."

"It isn't like that, I assure you. She has fallen on hard times, is all, and my avoiding the household entirely is in an effort to not bring scandal on you."

"I shall like to meet her, then," William huffed, "So that I may judge her character."

"I can arrange that, but for now…"

"For now you have nowhere else to go, is that what you wish to tell me?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Then go and stay with Mother."

"But she has that awful bluestocking with her! You know what Mother is like. She shall have me married within the month."

William hated it when his brother whined, but for once, he was preoccupied with one word in particular.

"Bluestocking?" He echoed, "Who are you referring to?"

He watched as his brother turned pale.

"Nothing," he said quickly, "Pretend you did not hear that."

"I am certainly not going to do that. Who is she? What is it with the two of you and this sudden need to keep women a secret from me?"

"Well, you are not exactly kind to the fairer sex, are you?"

"I have my reasons for that as you know."

"Then I shall make you a deal. You pretend that you did not hear me tell you Mother's secret, and I shall keep you company here in your home."

"Such a deal benefits you and you alone. I am not a child, and I would appreciate you not trying to trick me as though I am one."

"It was worth a shot," Scott laughed, "All the same, I think it would be best for you to have someone around. You shall lose your mind if you continue on like this. Nobody deserves to be completely alone, even if they are so sure that they must choose to be."

"You are only saying that because you need a place to stay," William replied, but he couldn't help but smile.

Truly, his little brother had him wrapped around his finger.

"I mean it!" Scott protested, "Yes, I will admit that I am in need of a place here for the time being, but I am not utterly heartless. You are my brother, and I care about you a great deal."

"She put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Perhaps," he grinned, "Well, she hasn't got the faintest idea that I am here, but she has been writing to me about you. Check on William this, make William the first person you visit that, as if I am not the one that is supposed to be her baby."

"I apologize for the burden, truly I do."

"You are certainly no burden. In fact, you are clearly my saving grace!"

"How long will you be here?"

"That is to be determined, but I will make myself useful in the meantime, I can assure you."

"Then I need not expect any more soirees?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I can promise you that it will be on the odd occasion, and with plenty of warning, and it will only be done with the intention of you having something in your life other than all of this work."

William looked at his brother and wondered just how honest he was being about it all. He wanted to believe that he would keep to his word and be the perfect guest, even though he knew it couldn't possibly be the case.

"Six months," Scott said finally, "I shall not need any longer."

"Very well."