Page 21 of How to Court a Rake
‘I remember looking up at the nursery window and seeing Lucien glaring at us. He hated being left out even when he was a toddler. He could hardly wait to join us.’ Kieran returned to the sofa, book in hand. ‘I wonder if he feels that way still?’
‘Once a Horseman, always a Horseman. He knew the commitment and the risk,’ Caine said gruffly, although it had galled him that Lucien hadn’t stayed in town with them to see it all through—the titles, the marriage agreement that went with them, the search for Stepan, and the search for the traitor. Instead, Lucien had decamped.
Kieran flipped through the pages, coming to the listing for Amesbury. He turned the book so that Caine could read. ‘“Born, 1783; Died, 1823”. The fellow wasn’t incredibly old.’ Old was Grandfather in his eighties. ‘He died without a direct heir, though. There’s no spouse listed. He’d not married.’ Caine thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps that’s why we haven’t heard of this new fellow. He’s a distant cousin.’ So distant, in fact, that no one had heard of him. Yet.
‘It might be nice to know how the previous Duke died,’ Kieran posited.
Caine agreed. ‘Seems to me that a man who hadn’t married was either irresponsible with his duty or hadn’t planned on dying. The latter means his death was likely an accident. I think I’ll call onThe Timesarchives tomorrow morning. I’d like to know before I see Mary and Carys.’
Kieran gave a low chuckle. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called her by her Christian name in this conversation. It’s not Lady Mary?’
Caine tried to dodge the probe. ‘You know I’m never one to stand on ceremony.’
‘When you’re seducing,’ Kieran amended. ‘Is that what you’re doing here? Do you intend on seducing the most proper Lady Mary Kimber? I didn’t think virgins or ruining them were your style?’
‘It’s not.’ Caine infused the two words with a tone of finality, resisting the temptation to argue in his defence that Lady Mary was not helpless or quite as proper as she made out. She’d turned docile propriety into an excellent façade over the years. But he was staunchly a gentleman who kissed, but did not tell. News of his exploits always leaked out from the female quarter, never his.
‘Then what are your intentions?’ Kieran queried, only half joking. ‘Don’t tell me they’re the same as mine with Lady Elizabeth Cleeves because she’s not sending me notes begging for my attendance at the theatre or asking me to rescue her from unwanted suitors. Nor am I buying out florist shops’ worth of red roses. It seems like this has gone beyond a useful attraction.’
‘I owed her for deserting her on the dance floor at a very inconvenient time for her,’ Caine deflected.
Kieran raised a disbelieving brow. ‘I should think the debt paid by now. But perhaps interest rates are higher than I understood.’ He gave a shrug of his shoulder and rose, preparing to depart, but Caine knew how to read his brother. Kieran wasn’t done informally probing. Caine braced.
‘She wouldn’t be the worst choice for a wife if you mean to fulfil the King’s bargain. I mean, she does ride, after all. She’d fit in with the Parkhurst clan if she ever let her hair down, although I’m not sure how we feel about the Earl of Carys as an in-law.’
‘You have that horse well ahead of the cart, Brother,’ Caine cautioned. ‘You know I’m not exactly wedded to the idea of marrying to save the title.’
‘But you do like to save people, Caine.’ Now it was Kieran cautioning. ‘Whatever you’re doing with Lady Mary, make sure it’s for the right reasons.’
‘What other reasons would there be?’ Few people could put him on the defensive, mostly because he didn’t give them the chance to get close enough, but Kieran was one of them.
‘Atonement. You feel guilty you couldn’t save Stepan, so you think to save her instead. Only, now you might not be able to. Her family’s business isherfamily’s business.’
‘Unless her family’s businessbecomesmy family’s business and right now there’s a possibility the two may intersect,’ Caine answered smoothly.
‘If Carys is not involved in the sabotage attempt, you will dissociate yourself from Lady Mary, then?’ Kieran was not shy in his argument. But they both knew the situation with Mary was not solely about investigating her father.
‘There is no crime in helping a damsel in distress,’ Caine countered.
‘Until you help her right into your bed, then neither of you has choices no matter your intentions.’
‘Weren’tyougoing to bed?’ Caine speared his brother with a look. Kieran saw entirely too much. And he was right. Should Carys turn out to not be connected to the sabotage effort, Caine would not abandon Lady Mary to Amesbury’s affections, such as they were. And he knew very well where that could lead. But that was a bridge to cross another time. For now he was still collecting puzzle pieces.
He collected that first piece the next morning, up early for a ride on Argonaut in the park and a breakfast that lasted long enough for him to see that his attendance at the theatre in the Carys box had been noted by many under the guise of lines like ‘it seems the new Marquess of Barrow is taking his responsibilities seriously when it comes to courting…’ followed by a chronology of his efforts—dances, roses, now the theatre, and competing with a duke for the dukeless Lady Mary. Well, he’d expected as much. He did not think the article terribly damning to her since he’d been able to keep the focus on him. She was merely the victim of his attentions. It could have been worse.
He was at the front door ofThe Timesthe moment it opened, the receptionist rising nervously at the sight of him striding in, great coat flapping at his legs, and stammering an anxious, ‘If you’re here about the article…’
‘I’m not here about the article,’ he dismissed the concern abruptly. ‘I need to find an obituary. Is there a staff librarian or an archivist who can assist me?’
Relieved, the receptionist was all brisk helpfulness. ‘Yes, my lord, right this way.’
It turned out to be a relatively simple process as he had the date of death, which narrowed down the newspaper issues that would have carried the notice. ‘A carriage accident?’ He glanced at the archivist, a small slim man with spectacles in a dark suit. ‘Is that all we know? It’s not very descriptive.’
The archivist gave a frown of disdain. ‘My lord, obituaries are not gossip columns.’
‘Because gossip is for the living?’ Caine couldn’t resist the jab. ‘Is there a story? Was there news coverage of the accident? It seems like a duke dying in an accident in town would be newsworthy.’ Certainly gossip worthy, although he dare not say as much.
The archivist was chilly. ‘We can look. We’ll check the issues up to two weeks after the accident.’
