Page 8 of Invitation
Lucien reluctantly slowed as his brother came abreast of him.“Would it killyouto relax a bit and enjoy life?”
Con brushed at something on his sleeve.“Just because we do not share the same…passions doesn’t mean I do not enjoy life.”
Lucien stopped and turned to face his brother, folding his arms over his chest.“Passions?”He waggled his brows.“Dare I hope you’ve developed a tendre for your bride?Perhaps you haven’t repressedeverything.”
“Must you debase every conversation?”
“Well, I don’t, but Icould.”Lucien grinned, then uncrossed his arms, letting them drop to his sides.“My apologies, brother.I should not taunt you.You make it too easy.But that does not mean you’re inviting me to torment you.”
Con’s eyes darkened.“You’ve skirted the issue, Luci.”Only his siblings called him by the nickname.“Please, give a thought to your reputation—your standing, if not your family.”
“Are you honestly concerned my behavior will cause you to suffer?”
“No, but think of our sister.”
Lucien glanced toward the entrance hall, where he’d seen Cassandra earlier.“Is there a problem?”
“Well…no.But how would we know if there were?”
Rolling his eyes, Lucien turned toward the foyer.“She’s not even out, for heaven’s sake.Stop trying to stir trouble where there is none.You are becoming more like Father every day.”
Con clenched his jaw.“If you kept your…activities more private and didn’t flaunt your dissipation, it would be far more tolerable.Can’t you find something worthwhile to do?”
“Worthwhile is subjective, Constantine,” Lucien said softly but with a touch of heat.
He took his leave and drove back to his small bachelor house on King Street near St.James Square.Con’s marriage would invite more meddling from their father, as evidenced today.The duke hadn’t onlynotpersuaded Lucien to remedy his behavior, he’d rather done the opposite.Lucien was more encouraged than ever to carouse and debauch, particularly since he was suddenly in the market for a new mistress.
Frowning as he turned toward Piccadilly, he thought of Mirabelle.He’d hoped she would change her mind or that she hadn’t actually been serious.But of course she had been.Furthermore, she’d sent him a note that morning indicating she’d found lodgings and would be moving in a few days.Lucien wanted to ask where, to ensure she would be safe and comfortable, but it wasn’t his place to ask.She’d been clear about leaving her profession and claiming her independence.
He also knew she didn’t have another trade to fall back on.
Frustration drove him back to his conversation with his brother.Intolerable?Was that how Con saw him?Of all the judgmental, pompous…
But wasn’t that also how Lucien saw his brother?The duke had done an excellent job of pitting them against each other.At least that was how it seemed to Lucien.Or perhaps it was just that they were that different, that being the heir and being the spare created a rift.
Lucien shook out his shoulders before he grew too tense.His father, and by extension his brother, didn’t like the company he kept—either his friends or his women.Nor did they like that he preferred Brooks’s to White’s or supportedliberalideas such as election reform.It was apparently blasphemous to think all men, and even women, should be able to vote and that anyone should be able to run for office.
Worse than blasphemous, it wasintolerable.
Lucien turned his thoughts to Tobias, who, like Mirabelle’s sister, was also suffering from Society’s nastiness.During his morning ride on Rotten Row, Lucien had overheard several gentlemen discussing Bentley’s victory with the apparently popular Lady Priscilla.They didn’t seem to realize, or care, that Tobias’s heart had been broken.
Lucien cared.Just as he cared for Mirabelle and what she was going to do.His brother’s words rose in his mind:Can’t you find something worthwhile to do?
In fact, he rather thought he might be able to do just that.
Chapter 4
Lady Priscilla was the only reason Tobias had come to the Oxley ball.He clung to the shadows as much as possible, both to avoid running into his father and to keep from sparking interest in his presence.The ton was still abuzz with his loss and, perhaps more accurately, fixated on Bentley’s victory.
Tobias had seen him shortly after he’d arrived, preening in the center of a group of ardent admirers, both male and female.The heir to a dukedom was always seen as a good ally, even when they were self-important dullards.
Not long after that, Tobias had finally caught sight of Lady Priscilla.Her light brown hair was piled atop her head in curls woven through with a silver ribbon and jewels.She wore a pale blue gown that elegantly draped her petite form.A pang of longing had shot through him, and he hoped his plan wouldn’t be for naught.
He watched while she sipped ratafia with other ladies.After some time, she departed the ballroom in the company of her mother.
This was the moment he’d been planning for.Hopefully, they were on their way to the retiring room, because the scheme he’d engineered depended on it.Seeing that was, in fact, their destination, Tobias exhaled with relief.He lingered nearby, his body thrumming with nervous energy as he waited to see if his plan would work.
A few moments later, Lady Priscilla came back out just as he’d hoped she would.Tobias strode quickly to her and gently touched her back.“Lady Priscilla, might I have a word?”
