The Art of Ruining a Rake (27 page)

Yet here his brother was, offering to do his job, again. As tempting as it was to be done with the paperwork—and truly, Roman wanted nothing more than to be done with it—this coddling was the root of the problem. He wasn’t
ready
to be left to his own decision-making. He feared it, in fact. And yet he’d never learn, not so long as Tony sheltered him.

He placed his hand on the mound of papers as if he could physically prevent Tony from stealing the work. “How did
you
learn how to manage it all?”

Tony appeared surprised by the question—though tellingly, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I can’t remember ever not knowing.”

“There must be more to it than that.” If there wasn’t, Roman truly had no hope.

His brother moved to sit on the edge of his desk. “I suppose I learned the usual way. I did enjoy tagging along after Father’s steward. No one else wanted to work with him, including Father, and he was happy to teach me. I never specifically meant to take on the responsibility. Why? Aren’t you learning?”

“No,” Roman stated flatly.

Tony nudged the inkpot, setting it straight. “You’ll get it.” When Roman didn’t reply, he hopped from the desk. “No celebratory whisky? You’re going to make me drink by myself?”

“How close
are
we to being solvent?” Roman blurted, causing Tony to pause in the doorway. Roman quickly recovered himself. “You’re counting our guineas early. But how long is it, really, until we can begin to fill our coffers again?”

Tony shrugged. “Two? Three years? No more than five. But I feel like a whisky tonight.” He shivered. “Devilishly cold outside.”

Roman’s hope sank. Five more years of penury was five years too many. He needed this to work
now
. How he could expect to provide for Lucy if they didn’t see a profit soon? Just the thought of more borrowing made him nauseated.

No sooner did Tony depart than did Dare materialize. His youngest brother rested his shoulder against the door’s jamb and examined his fingernails. “You didn’t tell Tony I’m at home, did you?”

Roman straightened lest his brother catch him moping. “I didn’t know you
were
at home.”

“Tattersalls was lively, but I can’t attend the theater stinking of horse sweat. Will you join us tonight?”

“At the theater?” Roman had completely forgotten the outing. He
did
want to see Lucy. But…if he was to be interviewing applicants with Tony tomorrow, he really ought to clear this pile of correspondence.

Dare approached his desk. “What are you working on?”
 

Roman gave up any hope of focus while his brother was in the room. He pushed away from his desk and looked pointedly at his youngest sibling. “Nothing yet. I keep getting interrupted.”

“You’re welcome.”

Roman’s patience was quickly wearing thin. “It is all a joke to you?”

“You used to enjoy a good lark, too.” Dare wandered toward the sideboard, seemingly about to pour himself a brandy. Did everyone think liquor an appropriate choice at four in the afternoon?

“No, thank you,” Roman said, shaking his head when Dare raised a glass in his direction. “I’ve been thinking—”

“Be careful with that. Might cause an apoplexy.”

Roman shot a quelling look at his brother’s back and willed himself to calm. Dare would never listen if Roman didn’t learn how to speak to him in a way he could comprehend. “I need you to show even a modicum of interest in the quarry. There are piles and piles of letters to be written. It would all go much faster if I had help.”

Dare turned. “What it sounds like you’re asking is for me to do
your
job.”

“I see more than enough work for all of us. Constantine sits on the board of the Grand Canal committee. Tony is spearheading the excavation, and—”

“I know all of that,” Dare interrupted, returning to the desk with a glass in hand. “I don’t see what their drudgery has to do with me.”

Roman leaned forward. His youngest brother had been left to his own devices far too long. “All I’m asking is for you to take an interest in our family’s affairs.”

“
You
might be done kicking up your heels, but I’m not. I have more to do before becoming a plodding fart like you.”

Roman placed both hands on his desk. Calmly, he looked up at his brother. “Considering the trouble you’ve caused our family to date—”

Dare bent forward and met Roman eye-to-eye. “You’re so ready to criticize
me
.
You compromised our neighbor’s sister and left her to the mercy of the
ton.
At least she has the good sense to see which one of us is worthwhile.”

Slowly, Roman rose and advanced around his desk. “Don’t say such things about her.”

Darius straightened as if nothing unpleasant had been said. “She’d make a fine mistress, is all I’m pointing out. You might have done that much. At least then she’d have some assurance we Alexanders didn’t turn our backs on her.”

Roman lunged. The rotter ducked. Roman’s whole body heaved with rage. “You little
worm.
Don’t ever say those words again. I am
not
turning away from her. Lucy deserves more than to be some degenerate’s mistress. I asked her to marry
me.”

“I don’t think she was thinking about marriage to you when she was kissing
me.”

Dare dodged as Roman lunged for him again.

“How fortunate for me she likes me best,” Dare taunted as he pushed a chair between them. “I asked her who she’ll choose. She said me.”

Roman froze. “She won’t.”

Dare smiled contemptibly. “She plans to announce it tonight at the theater. Admit it. I’ve won. The contest
and
the wager. Miss Lancester would rather have
me
than
you
.”

Lies
. Roman willed himself to unclench his fists. She
did
want him. She’d excluded him from the competition because she refused to admit how much she liked him. He was sure of it.

“You’ve been to see her?” Roman asked through clenched teeth. “You kissed her?”

Dare nodded. “She was very…welcoming.”

Fury blinded Roman. He almost lunged again. But no, it wasn’t worth it. Dare was a bitter, miserable bounder. He was spewing lies to get a rise out of Roman.

When Roman could see straight, he lowered his voice. “Don’t make her do it.”

Dare looked at him innocently. “Don’t make her tell everyone I’m better than you? Impossible.”

“Don’t humiliate her by making her look fast. Two lovers, and brothers, at that? What remains of her reputation will be shredded. Call off the wager.” Roman stalked forward. “Act like you care about her.”

Dare laughed as though he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing. “The way
you
care about her? I don’t think you want me taking cues from you.” He hooked his thumb under the lapel of his coat and half-turned, the conversation finished. “I can’t be distracted any more. I need to prepare myself to collect my winnings. By the by, it seems I no longer have need of your bourgeoisie offer of employment.”

“You wouldn’t need this stupid wager if you’d help us with our ‘embarrassing pursuit of trade.’ Very soon, we’ll know riches greater than our family has ever dreamed.”

The instant the words left his mouth, Roman realized his mistake.

Dare’s crystalline eyes took on an eerie light. “Us? Rich?”

“No,” Roman amended quickly. “The estate, solvent. Selfish little curs who refuse to help will remain beggars.”

“It’s simple, then.” A smirk curved Dare’s lips. “Teach me to be responsible, brother. I’d dearly love to learn it from
you.
”

Chapter 14

WITHIN THE HOUR Roman was taking the stairs two at a time to Lucy’s door, intent on having the truth. If she preferred his hellion brother to him, so be it. That wouldn’t change his insistence on her cutting ties with the cur. If she refused to do
that,
well. He wasn’t above going to Ashlin.

Lucy and her guests were gathered in the drawing room. Lord Steepleton and Mr. Tewseybury had settled in a coze on the couch. Both men shot him looks of irritation over their magazine, and Roman’s mood improved. He must present
some
form of competition, no matter what Dare had said.

His blond knave of a brother was nowhere to be seen. Good.

Ashlin stood by the window. He slowly pivoted toward the door. From across the room it was almost impossible to detect his nod of approval, but to Roman, the dip of his head was as loud as a shout.

The last guest was one to whom Roman had resigned himself. Mr. Barton-Wright sat beside Lucy on the rear-facing sofa.

Lucy turned to see Roman standing just inside the room. “Oh!” Her delight veiled quickly, but not before he caught it.

Dare was a lying
sod.
Mayhap she had chosen his brother, but the wager was only a diversion. She still wanted
him
.

He needed to get her alone. He spread his arms to indicate the many occupants spoiling his afternoon. “I would have hated to miss this party. Thank goodness my invitation arrived in time.”

Tewsey lifted his head from the magazine he and Steepleton were perusing. “Just a social call, Montborne. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you. I will.” Roman indicated the full complement of would-be suitors. No open chairs remained. “Unfortunately, one of you must leave in order for me do so. Pity. We were just getting started.”

The men entrenched themselves further into their seats. Roman narrowed his eyes. Why were they so determined to stay, if she’d already chosen Dare?

Because Dare had lied. The whole sodding story was a fabrication.

Even so, Roman wanted to hear it from her lips. “My good men, I’ve heard there is to be an impromptu race on Rotten Row today. Viscount Kinsey and his Love’s Luck against…” He struggled to recall a second horse and rider’s name, having never cared much about pursuits involving horses.

Lord Steepleton rose to his feet. “Mr. Wilkinson and Irish Fury?”

Tewsey reached a hand to stay him. “James, he’s prevaricating.”

Blast.

Lord Steepleton shot Roman a look of disgust, then set his hands on his thighs and sat down again. “Abominable.”

Ashlin didn’t speak, but his golden eyes laughed.

“Miss Lancester,” Roman said in a voice that hinted at the frustration of not being able to have her to himself, “perhaps you would spare a moment of your time.”

Longing crossed her face. He almost hoped—but no. She shook her head and looked regretfully around the room. “It would be impolite, my lord.”

“Gentlemen,” he said, deciding to take a different approach. He waited until he had her admirers’ attention.
“Leave.”

“I say!” Steepleton objected.

“You can’t!” Tewsey concurred.

Ashlin chuckled.

Mr. Barton-Wright stood. “My lord, the lady has rejected your suit multiple times. Save face and walk away.”

Roman marched toward Barton-Wright and jabbed the knob of his walking stick in his face. “See here, you little beast—”

The man didn’t so much as blink. “What will Lord Antony think when I inform him of our difference of opinion?”

Roman stopped short. He couldn’t even pretend losing Barton-Wright was an option.

But he couldn’t let the slimy weasel tell him what to do, either. With a feral growl, Roman went to Lucy, clasped an arm around her waist and hefted her onto his shoulder. Then he strode into the hallway before anyone, including Lucy, was able to gather their wits enough to stop him.

She began pummeling his back with her fists. “Put me down! How could you be so uncivilized?”

He laughed and kept walking. He was being a barbarian. He didn’t care. “You didn’t
expect
me to haul you bodily out of there? When there was no other method for me to have you alone?”

“We should never
be
alone,” she said with a forcefulness that should have been impossible, what with his shoulder jabbing into her middle. “Set me down or I’ll scream.”

Roman was already at the landing. He wasn’t about to let her go. Especially not with the clamor of her beaus falling over each other behind him, and Ashlin’s measured, heavy footfalls behind that. Roman shut the door to the staircase and took the steps two at a time.