Page 6 of Invitation
She knew Lucien had left—the air in a room always changed with his presence, or lack thereof.Closing her eyes briefly, she exhaled.
Then she wondered just what in the hell she was going to do.
Chapter 3
“Good afternoon, brother.”Lady Cassandra Westbrook swanned into the entrance hall just after Lucien stepped inside.Her dark hair was swept into the latest style, and her warm brown eyes assessed him with a precision that never failed to unnerve him.She was too smart—smarter than all of them by far.
He glanced up toward the first floor.“What, were you watching for my arrival from your sitting room?”
“I was looking out the window, yes.And of course I would come down to see you.I know you won’t linger after your meeting with Father.”
No, he would not.He hated these summonses with a fiery passion.“You’ll see me Friday morning for our usual ride.”
“True.”She frowned in the direction of their father’s study.“How I wish I could be invited to one of your interviews.”
Lucien chuckled.“No, you don’t, trust me.”
“It will never happen anyway.I am not ason.”She said the last word with a deep, pretentious tone that was clearly to mimic their father.As Lucien started to turn, she added, “Pale yellow isn’t much of a statement.I rather prefer the chartreuse.”
Long ago, Lucien had discovered how much their father despised any deviation from conservative attire.Wearing a non-white cravat in the duke’s presence was a small act of rebellion, but one Lucien would cling to as long as he drew breath.He smiled at his sister.“Then I shall be certain to wear it next time.”
A few moments later, he walked into his father’s large study with its dark, towering bookcases and heavy, midnight-blue draperies cloaking the bank of windows that looked out to Grosvenor Square.
“Yellow, really?”Lucien’s older brother, Constantine, stood near the hearth, over which hung an awful portrait of their father with a half dozen hunting dogs.The duke gripped his gun and held a dead fox by the scruff.
Lucien gaped at the painting, ignoring Con’s jibe.“Isthiswhat he had commissioned?”
“Apparently.”The single word curled with disgust.
“At least we share an opinion on the repulsiveness of that…piece.”They typically didn’t agree on much of anything.Lucien moved to stand near the windows, his gaze drifting to his coach waiting for him to escape at the earliest possible opportunity.
“Good, you’re both here.”The duke strode into the study and went straight to his massive desk, which sat opposite the windows.He paused before taking his chair and frowned at Lucien’s cravat.
Lucien quashed a satisfied smirk.
The duke sat, his almost entirely gray head tipping toward the hunting portrait.“I see you’re observing the new painting.Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Exchanging a dubious look with his brother, Lucien didn’t respond, while Con said, “Quite.”
While Lucien and his father were dark-eyed and dark-haired—the duke’s hair had once been sable—Con was a lighter version of them.With tawny brown hair and green-brown eyes, he’d inherited their mother’s classic bone structure.He was also quieter, as she had been, leaving Lucien and the duke to butt heads.
“Is that why you invited us today?”Lucien walked to a chair and sat down, extending his legs out in front of him.“To fawn over your portrait?”He kept his gaze fixed on the duke.
“No.Aldington didn’t tell you the purpose?”The duke used Con’s courtesy title.As a young boy, Lucien had found it too long and cumbersome to say, so he’d called his brother Con.Their sister Cass had done the same thing.
Con, dressed impeccably in somber colors and a pristinely white cravat, briefly massaged the bridge of his nose.“I didn’t.Lucien only just arrived, Father.”Exhaling, Con pivoted to face his brother.“I’m to be wed.”His gaze flicked to their father, ever seeking his approval.That right there told Lucien everything, that Con was doing his duty and nothing more.
Lucien wished that surprised him.Instead, it just made him sad.“Your joy is wonderfully evident,” he cracked.“Who is the lucky lady?”
“Lady Sabrina Kidd.”Con didn’t evensoundenthused.
“Bloody hell, man, can’t you muster a modicum of emotion?”Lucien asked.
Con scowled at him.“I’m very much looking forward to marrying her.She’ll make an excellent duchess.At some point in the future.”
Yes, that was all that mattered, that Con choose someone worthy of being a duchess.Emotion—love, passion, even like—had nothing to do with it.“Do you even realize you’re frowning?”Lucien asked.
Con repositioned his body toward their father once more so that Lucien could only see him in profile.It was still evident, however, that Con was making an effort to at least look…not pained.
