Page 63 of Never a Duke
And as for being honest with Rosalind aboutall of it…Absolutely not. Not ever, if Ned could help it, and certainly not before they’d spoken their vows.
***
Rosalind stopped by the library to check the time on the longcase clock, the most accurate timepiece in the house.
Forty-five minutes until her rendezvous with Ned. Perfect.
“Roz,” came a groggy voice from the depths of the sofa. “That you?”
George rose, tousled and unshod. He wore no jacket, and his rumpled attire suggested he’d spent the whole night in the library.
“Good morning,” Rosalind replied. “You were up late writing?” The desk held the usual detritus of one of George’s poetry sessions—crumpled paper, open books, empty decanters.
“The muse was upon me,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I stretched out to rest my eyes, and then…nescience.”
Unknowingness. One of his many arcane poetical words, which in this case referred to drinking himself into a stupor.
“Papa frowns on dishabille in the public rooms, George. You and your muse had best toddle up to bed.”
He scratched his belly and stretched. “You’re in a riding habit.”
“I’m going for a hack. The weather is fair, and my mare could use the outing.”
George peered at her owlishly. “You went to Her Grace of Walden’s at-home. You’ve been shopping more lately. What’s got into you, Roz?”
Don’t call me Roz.“The Season has arrived. I’m out and about as Papa expects me to be.”
George gathered up his boots and jacket. “That’s not it. You went to that Venetian breakfast, and Lindy said you were on Ned Wentworth’s arm. You dragooned Wentworth into shopping with you.”
Why did George choose now of all times to turn up chatty and observant? “If my brothers were more generous with their escort, I wouldn’t have to bother Mr. Wentworth.”
George ambled closer, bringing the scent of stale tobacco and an excess of spirits with him. “Is Wentworth bothering you, Roz?”
“Of course not. His company is congenial, and he’s received everywhere. How could you think that he’s been anything less than gentlemanly?”
George’s eyes were bloodshot, his complexion sallow. More significantly his expression, usually jovially bland, was bleak.
“Ned Wentworth is received, but he’s notgood ton, Roz. He’ll never begood ton. Rumors follow him from year to year, and when I was at university…”
Rosalind did not want to hear this, and yet, she needed to. “Yes?”
“Half the fellows said he was Walden’s by-blow, the other half said worse things than that. Naughty things ladies aren’t supposed to hear. Foul, naughty things about why Walden might keep a handsome lad close by.”
“Your friends slandered Mr. Wentworth because they are a pack of foul, naughty boys. Go to bed, George. I’ll send a footman in to clean up the desk and air the room before Papa comes down.”
Rosalind had nearly made it to the door before George spoke again. “Don’t let Wentworth develop expectations, Roz. You are softhearted, and leading him a dance would not be kind. He might be a decent enough fellow despite all the talk—God knows the gossips can be cruel—but he has a past and he’s a banker. You’ll be shunned if you show him marked favor, and then Lindy will have to deal with the talk. Until Lindy can convince some heiress to marry him, we can’t have any talk. Surely you understand that?”
Rosalind considered George her harmless brother, while Lindy was the brother she’d learned to tread lightly around.
“Is Lindy in dun territory again?”
George went to the sideboard, put down his boots and jacket, and poured himself a drink. “Lindy is always in dun territory, but lately he’s had some luck at the tables. He will doubtless gamble away his good fortune rather than pay off his duns, though.” He downed a generous portion of Papa’s brandy at one go.
“No matter,” George went on. “Lindy will have the title, so sooner or later, he’ll charm his way up the church aisle with a suitably wealthy young lady. When that day comes, I might be able to find a woman to take a similarly charitable view of my own circumstances.”
He saluted with his empty glass and set it on the sideboard.
“You could take holy orders, George. You’re good-natured and every bit as handsome as Lindy, though less of a dandy. You have the requisite university education.”
