Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

AUGUSTA

I run my fingers down the front of my promenade dress as Greyson and I stride forward. Portswell hangs back, his eyes darting to and fro. Though I have no earthly idea what he's looking for, he seems very intent in his quest.

More than likely, he seeks a duchess. As he should. But then, the bored expression, purely at odds with his intense stare, would drive any woman away. Dragging my attention away, I take in the men and women as we stroll, sizing them up as they pass by.

My brother, no doubt, has designs for me, and one of these gentlemen might be the fixation on which I'm forced to bind myself. Thankfully, none seem overly decrepit in age. Though much older than me, they still seem spry as they flit about in the cool London air.

Dragging in a deep breath, I allow the chill to still my nerves. Though my attentions earlier left me depleted enough for my mind to engage, there's still this underlying need, this undercurrent of want that has no name. Huddling into myself, I let my mind drift as I stretch my legs, forcing the air in and out of my lungs in a steady rhythm, a mantra almost.

"I have asked you for a walk for a reason."

Turning to Greyson, I blink up at him, curiosity eating at me as I note the concern on his face. "You mean for some other reason than to show me off to the men of the Ton looking for a bride?"

A red tinge graces his cheeks for a moment as he ducks his head. "Am I that transparent?"

My lips hover into a ghost of a smile as I wrap my arms around his and squeeze. "You never were good at hiding anything. Even when you were younger. But this seems far more serious than who I make a match with."

This time, his lips turn into a fierce scowl. "Nothing is more important to me than you finding a good match. It's imperative I seek out someone worthy of you."

"Now, now, brother. I applaud the gusto in which you care for my wellbeing, but I also know a thing or two about what I want. Let me help shoulder this burden."

The vehemence in which he shakes his head causes his arm to jostle underneath mine. "No, my dear sweet sister. As your brother and the current viscount, it is my duty to see you properly matched. Besides, you know nothing of the men of the Ton. With their faces, they put on a grand show, but it's a farce hiding secrets, debts, and vices. Better to let me find who you need."

My shoulders slump as I look out over The Serpentine, watching the various fowl and their antics. Oh, to be free like them. Coming and going with no one stopping them. Free to mate with whomever smells the best.

They care nothing of fortune or stature. The only thing that matters is if they can protect and provide. In truth, I, too, care nothing about fortune. At least I don't care as much as my brother probably wishes I would.

And as for protecting… If given a chance, I feel as if I can protect myself. Perhaps it's an inflated sense of ego. Perhaps it's the feelings of destructive spiraling that make me think this way. Whichever it is, whether ego or destruction, I find the idea of letting loose far more appealing than I should.

Maybe Bedlam is the place for me then. Running my hands up and down my arms, I continue to watch the animals, my heart filling with such a longing I can barely even name. How I wish there was someone I could confide in, could ask questions of. Mother would understand.

"I miss them too, you know," my brother murmurs, joining me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. "Every damn day I worry I'm not doing right by you, by my title… everything."

Tears mist my eyes as we share this moment, both of us in one accord. It's rare, really, for us to be so like-minded. But then, I suppose grief has a way of binding the most jagged pieces together to make an improvised whole.

"I must away back to our estates." The deep rumble of his voice shatters the tranquility between us.

For a moment, hope springs in my heart. "Am I to away with you as well?"

"No, my dear. You must stay and be seen. Finding you a husband is top priority. Besides, you will only cause me to split my focus between our people and your wellbeing. I'd much rather have you here, where I know you're safe and cared for."

"I understand." My heart jumps into my throat at the knowledge that I'm stuck here while he gets to be free.

"Come, love. It's not all bad. You're getting a new wardrobe. You've already been invited to all the best balls. Aunt Amelia will ensure you're well taken care of."

The doldrums threatening to weigh me down lift for a scant moment. "It is only she who will look after me? None other?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Bending low, he grabs a pebble and tosses it into the water. "I have asked Portswell to ensure all doors are open to you. You will also defer to him in matters of balls and who you interact with."

Resisting the urge to snort, I shake my head. "Sounds as if it would be easier to just marry me off to him and be done with," I tease.

"No." His tone is dark and emphatic, drawing my gaze to him.

Normally, he's usually so mild-mannered and gentle. At least with me. Hearing him speak with any amount of vehemence makes me take pause.

"But he is our friend, is he not?"

"Yes. One of the best. But-"

"He is a duke, is he not?"

"Of course he is. But-"

"Then that makes him the best choice." It's not that I have designs on our family friend, but it so does make my heart happy to vex my brother.

He turns me in his arms and gives me a stern glare. "Promise me, sister. Promise me you will not pursue him."

My heart pounds in my chest as I look over his shoulder and watch Portswell as he converses with others of the peerage. The long lines of his body as he moves about catch my gaze. Is he really that attractive? Or is it that my brother forbids it that makes him so desirable?

My lips twist up into a smirk. Such a lark to tease him this way. The glow on his cheeks heighten as red continues to climb. Just like when we were children, and I'd torment him until he was near breaking point.

"Come now, brother. I see nothing wrong with this match. Pray tell why you object?"

"I… He… Well… It is not an appropriate union."

This time, hilarious teasing gives way to frustration. "You cannot give me an edict with no real reason."

"As the head of this household and your brother. I certainly can."

Crossing my arms, I look him up and down. It's not like him to assert himself in this way. "Is it because I'm merely the daughter of a late viscount? That doesn't seem to matter to him when he comes calling."

"It is not our heritage," he hedges. "I would explain, but you would not understand."

"Cannot understand? Or do you just refuse to explain it to me?" Frustration continues to build until anger floods my system, nearly blurring my vision. "I am not some daft omega who cannot see reason."

"Gus," he pleads, reverting to his nickname for me from childhood.

"If he's not appropriate for me to marry, then he shouldn't be appropriate company at our house. Nor should he be able to dictate whom I shall interact with."

"It's not that simple…"

Turning my lips down into a fierce frown, I pull myself out of my brother's grasp. "It could be. If you only saw me as an equal and not some feminine being below you-"

"But we aren't equal, Gus. We never have been, and we never will be. Not just as a woman, but as a Lady. Your status dictates the course we all must take."

Tears dot my eyes as I stride forward, keeping my steps small so he can catch up. It's so unfair to be reduced to my biology and title. If only I were low born. Maybe then I'd be able to be privy to the things men do and say freely.

Shaking my head, I sit on a nearby bench as he and Portswell put their heads together in conversation. What could possibly be so objectionable with Portswell that my brother would refuse him as my husband?

He's handsome, well mannered, and titled. Out of all the other men, he doesn't seem to be on death's door, nor does he seem to be quite as dull. A touch on the boring and reserved side, but maybe that's a good thing.

If I marry a quiet man, then I might have an easier time going out and about to experience life. Besides, it's not as if someone as reticent as him would enquire as to my whereabouts if I turn in to sleep for the night. The more I think about it, the better the idea sounds.

Besides, being a duchess would certainly afford me far more freedom than a lower title. However, what intrigues me most is that he's forbidden, off limits to me. It only makes him all the more the man I wish to tie to me.

Smile on my face, I sit back, plotting out just how I might capture his eye. Granted, since he grew up with me, I'll have to get past the barrier of just being a little sister to him.

If only I knew a better way to ensnare a man's affections… Perhaps another excursion as a man is in order. With my brother no longer residing under our roof, and our addlepated aunt taking up the helm, it will be far easier to sneak about undetected.

Glancing over at a group of men, I take in their stern expressions and harried voices. Not much drifts over, but from what I can gather, they're speaking of the harlot riots. Curious, I inch my way over, doing my best to be as unobtrusive as possible. Reaching my hand out to the ducks, I pretend to make friends with them as I go even closer.

Having already snuck into one of the riots, it's fascinating to hear about it from their perspective. They're so angry as they speak of these women using whatever means it takes to carve out a living. Unfortunately, none of it makes any sense to me.

They can enjoy their company, visiting all manner of things upon their bodies, yet not want them to be healthy, happy, and compensated? Sorrow lances my heart as I continue to eavesdrop, hoping to glean a bit more information.

The last time I went, I was one of the few 'men' who paraded about, demanding freedom to explore the lusts of the flesh, lusts I still know very little about. The others ranted and raved, swearing loudly as they pressed in on us.

Terrifying, to be sure. But not nearly as fearsome as if I were them waking up, my room engulfed in flames… to hate women so much is an anathema to me. I cannot understand how anyone could try to destroy their homes and bodies.

Granted, as a Lady, I cannot engage as they have, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be allowed to. I cannot, will not, allow fear to keep me from standing up for what is right. Tears threaten to prick my eyes as they talk in low murmurs about another house that was hit.

The days grow scarier with each bit of unrest. At times, I wonder at the prudence of going to these places, but in the end, I am a voice for them. They cannot speak because no one will listen. Granted, even as a Lady, no one will listen.

As a man? As a man, everyone will take notice. I'm just thankful my brother is leaving when he is. Until he is gone, I'll continue to play the role of a delicate flower, biding my time until I can buck the yoke and be free.

Unfortunately, that also means no longer vexing my brother. Both he and Portswell do not see me as a threat, and that is how I intend to keep it. Striding over, I put on a demure smile, lowering my gaze in submissive repose. The moment I come closer, all conversation stops, riling up my curiosity.

I keep it in check, however, as I curtsy before the duke. "I have been informed that you are to watch over me in my brother's stead?"

"Yes," he grinds out, his expression somewhat pained. "And I have been assured you will not make that task harder than it should be?"

I place a hand over my heart in mock outrage. "Since when have I been anything but gentle and easy?"

"Might I remind you," he smirks, "that you've caused your fair share of mischief."

"You wound me, Sir. I was but a child, unknowing of right and wrong. Now, I am older and much wiser."

"Come, Portswell. You know Augusta is an angel. She will cause you no trouble while I'm away. I can assure you."

He looks me up and down, his lips turning into a deep frown. "She is rather obedient now, I suppose."

Is it my imagination, or does he look disappointed in that fact? My brows knit together as I try to figure out this new puzzle, but his expression clears before I can even make sense of it. Perhaps it was in my imagination only?

"Your Grace," I purr, going back down into a curtsy. "You do so flatter me. I hope to hold up the Hunt name and not to bring disrespect to the house of Hardon."

"Yes. Well, your brother and I have come to an accord on who you should entertain in his absence. So worry not of your future. It is well in hand."

I turn to Greyson, willing my anger to stay below the surface. "Oh? And who is it I am supposed to enchant?"

"All in due time, sister. All in due time."

My gut churns at his words as dread fills my limbs. Seems as if my future is already decided. If I want any hope of changing it, then some catalyst has to happen. Again, my skin itches with need as I clench my fingers, digging my nails into my palm.

That small bite of pain keeps me grounded as I watch them both plan my future without me. "I have no say at all, then?" I murmur, my voice nearly lost in the air. "My opinion truly does count for naught?"

"My sweet sister," Greyson chuckles, leaning over to kiss the top of my forehead. "I have it all well in hand. I may not be the best viscount there is, but I know enough when to ask for help. Luckily, with Portswell's influence, you will be matched well before the end of this season. I just know it."

"I am thrilled," I choke out, keeping the tears at bay. "However can I thank you for taking us under your wing, Your Grace."

His lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. "Simply continue being the gentle, pliant girl you are, and we will take care of the rest."

Again, I nod, my voice lost as they continue to plan for the rest of the Season. Clothes, shoes, reticules, bonnets, shifts, trousseaus. Nothing goes unspoken as I stand there, allowing the men of the Ton to see the charade I put forth.

My heart threatens to shatter as hopelessness threads through my limbs. The only hope I have, the only respite, is knowing soon I'll be out and about, walking through the Ton with them having no clue. Bedlam indeed. If I am as ill as I fear, it's the men of society who have made me that way.