Page 58 of Rules for Heiresses
Waterstone gave a mock scowl. “Only my mother called me Valentine, God rest her sweet soul. And Uncle Bucky has promised to live forever.” He shuddered. “Being a duke is too much work.”
Courtland would agree with that.
“You look like shit,” Embry told him grinning widely. “Anything to do with a little bird flying off to Hastings for a couple days?”
“Fuck off, Embry.” Courtland tugged on a sprig of hair, and catching the amused look from the duke, dropped his hand. He was sure he looked a mess. His hair was uncombed, his clothing mussed, and he probably stank like a distillery. He cleared his throat, wanting desperately to find outwhyshe’d left without a word, especially now that she’d returned. “Was all well in Hastings?”
Hell, even that sounded needy.
Embry spared him with an arch glance, but nodded. “Sarani said that they had a wonderful time. She was grateful for the visit, given how long I’ve been away.” He poured himself a drink, his voice lowering slightly. “She said that my sister looked well, if not so elated with her change in situation.”
It felt like he’d taken a blow to his midsection. Courtland didn’t know why, but the fact that she was open about her unhappiness gutted him. Not that he’d expected her to pretend to be a content, radiant bride, but they were in this together. At least for the moment. He was to blame, however. He’d been an insensitive bastard and more, but the truth was that confronting his own feelings had terrified him.
“She’s not happy to be a duchess?” Waterstone interjected. “Or to be married?”
Embry sighed. “My sister is…unconventional in her views. I suppose she’s always had a bit too much independence for a young woman of her station. She gave me a devil of a time with suitors, refusing every single one. Dalwood was adamant in his suit, and I thought she’d have chosen him until she pretended to visit her friend Clara in Scotland. When I received word that she was wedding Ashvale, though I’ve yet to get to the real truth of that tale, I was at my wit’s end.”
Courtland forgot the ache in his belly, his rioting emotions finding a new, worthier target. “The Marquess of Dalwood?” Both men turned at the leashed violence in his tone.
“You’re acquainted with him?” Embry asked.
“No,” Courtland bit out.
Rage settled within him, replacing his frustration with himself, but rage he could handle. Anger had been his constant companion for years, and he knew how to throttle it into better use. Hisgrandmèrehad taught him to fine-tune its edges and direct it toward a purpose. He’d let anger drive the accumulation of his fortune, let it shape him into the man he’d become.
Until Ravenna, he’d embraced no other emotion,neededno other emotion. Pleasure took a distant second, and affection didn’t factor in his life whatsoever. However, he would take pleasure in destroying Dalwood, and not just for Ravenna’s sake.
“What do you know of him?” he asked. “The marquess.”
“He used to be leader in the younger set, but rumor has it that he’s rusticating at his country estate recovering from a severe groin injury.” Courtland fought back a slow and gratified smile. Ravenna would be delighted. “As far as his character, he’s smug, arrogant, rich. Much like half the gentlemen in theton.” Embry sipped his drink. “As a matter of fact, he’s good mates with your half brother.”
Courtland scowled. Of course he was. Like attracted like. With friends like Stinson and Dalwood, who needed enemies? No wonder Ravenna had gone running as far away as she could get, only to tumble right into his arms.She isn’t happy to be married.The reminder gutted him. When this debacle with Sommers was all said and done, he’d put the offer of separation to her again.
“What’s the news on Sommers?” he asked.
The earl pursed his lips. “Still trying to get funds for his cause from various Englishmen. Palmerson hasn’t been so stealthy in his support of the American South, but the truth is, no one wants to get entangled in an expensive overseas conflict. Sommers has many private business relationships with those who do support him, however, particularly in Liverpool.”
Courtland eyed the government operative. “Any closer to catching him?”
“Close.”
That was the best he’d get out of the closemouthed British operative. The truth was that Courtland wanted Sommers gone from London and away from Ravenna. He’d seen the way the man leered at her. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, but Sommers was here because of him…because of a favor he’d owed Waterstone. He did not want Ravenna anywhere near that man’s crosshairs.
He glanced at Rawley. “Any news from our contacts at the port in Liverpool? What of John Laird and his shipbuilding yard?”
“My men report that Sommers has been in communication with them by telegram.”
That did not surprise Courtland. “What about associates in Hong Kong?”
“Russell and Company is alleged to have some illicit business in Canton, and Sommers is supposedly paying for a ship to put into port at Liverpool, whereupon its cargo will be arranged to go to his lands in the Carolinas for distribution.”
Waterstone’s eyes narrowed. “The shipment needs to be on your liner with him on it for us to have any chance of catching and detaining him.”
Courtland nodded to Rawley. “Find out whose ship it is and pay whomever you need to get that rerouted. Make sure he has no other options but me.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Rawley said.
“Are you sure you don’t want to work for Her Majesty as a spymaster?” Embry asked him with a grin. “You’d make an excellent addition to Waterstone’s ranks.”
