Page 12 of Duke of Seduction

“Enough of this,” Ambrose said, wincing as Ezra pulled him to his feet. “If we are not going to box then let us all drink.”

“Finally, some logic has been spoken,” Ambrose boasted, holding up the bottle to Morgan and Duncan as he passed by.

Ezra snatched it away from Ambrose, as Morgan chortled at the frown on Ambrose’s face.

“Hey!” he exclaimed as Ambrose swept a hand down to steal Morgan’s glass.

“Got to catch up to you, do we not?” Ambrose asked with a smirk before downing what was left in the glass.

Morgan rolled his eyes but grinned at his friend. Another glass was placed in front of him, and Ezra leaned over with the bottle to fill it.

“In truth I should not be boxing today,” Ambrose admitted with an exhausted sigh, “My mind is not on it.”

“Is that because your mind is too busy with thoughts of Barbara?” Morgan teased. The quip earned him a kick to his shin, but Ambrose smirked.

“She is nevernoton my mind,” Ambrose retorted wickedly, then grew serious as he rested his elbows on the table. “No, in truth, I have been going over suitable candidates for Helena.”

Morgan stilled as he felt his heart beginning to beat faster. Tomorrow evening would be their first of seven nights, and he could not deny that he was more excited than fearful of being caught helping his best friend’s little sister. Her plea to him was too genuine, too similar to his own needs to ignore, despite how dangerous it was.

“Just be kind with your selection,” Duncan said, though his eyes were on Morgan.

Morgan noted his stare and quickly shook himself out of his frozen state to lean back lazily in his chair.

“Agreed,” Ezra chimed in. “She is a beautiful woman in both body and spirit. Do not saddle her with some old, fat aristocrat who has no time to nurture either.”

“Do you truly think I would be so cruel to my own flesh and blood?” Ambrose replied, raising a brow. “I want my sister happy. Now, I confess I do not gauge beauty in men as well as I do in women, but the list I have created thus far does not have a man over thirty-five. They all have a full head of hair and appear to take care of themselves.”

“Let us hear them then,” Morgan encouraged.

“Lord Crawley, Lord Brandon, Lord Raventhorn…”

“What?” Ezra spat out, clearly disgusted by the list. “An earl, a baron, and a Scot scantly worthy of whatever title his home country gave him?”

“Ezra’s right,” Duncan chimed in, his half-revealed face showing his disappointment. “Helena deserves to be a duchess in her own right, at the very least.”

“Of course she does,” Ambrose remarked defensively, “You think I am not aware? But the eligible dukes that fall within the previously mentioned parameters reduce the numbers to nearly none. I have sent word to Gantley, Duke of Urshire, and have yet to hear back, but his land is a four-day ride away from our home. I want to keep her close, just in case…”

Ambrose did not need to finish his sentence, because his brothers already knew how it would end. In case something awful happened to her. In case their investigation was not truly closed. In case whoever it was that had murdered their fathers was still a free man and would attempt to do the same thing to her.

“You could always marry her off to Thomas,” Morgan quipped.

As usual his jester-like spirit broke the tension of an otherwise heavy conversation. Ezra cackled like a demon as he leaned back in his chair, while Duncan chortled so forcefully that he tilted his mask. Ambrose, however, gave Morgan a look of death. As usual, it sent a little shot of devilish glee throughout his person.

“Do not dare to even joke about such a thing,” Ambrose said in warning, shaking his head gravely.

“You are right,” Morgan mused, slapping his hand on his jaw in mock horror as he wagged his eyebrows in challenge, “She would have the poor boy whipped in no time.”

Ambrose growled as he rose from his seat, but Morgan remained relaxed and perfectly calm as Ezra and Duncan lunged from their seats to hold him back, laughing harder all the while.

“Come on now, old boy,” Ezra laughed, wrestling him back into a chair. “It was just a bit of fun. You have to admit the imagery is laughable.”

Ambrose glowered at him as he finally seated himself in his chair. Thomas and his younger sister Camilla were beloved by the four of them. Like them, the duke and little duchess had been orphaned at an early age and had no idea how to handle life as noble adults.

Ambrose, Ezra, Duncan, and Morgan all contributed as much as they could to give them access to trustworthy acquaintances and staff members, excellent tutors, and most importantly, a sense of being part of a family. Ezra and Lydia taught them how to be strong. Duncan and Alice taught them to control their emotions. Ambrose and Barbara taught them how to be cunning. And Morgan… Morgan taught them that it was safe to laugh again.

The two were cherished by them all. Despite Morgan’s jest, he never meant it. Thomas deserved to grow into manhood, and Helena deserved more than a boy. There was no denying these truths.

“Must you blunder so blindly with your words?” Ambrose scorned, scuffing his thumb across his nose as Ezra and Duncan returned to their seats.

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