Page 4 of A Lord's Bet of Desire

Percival smiled a little nervously. But the butler always had that look in his eye. Edward’s butler, Harrison, was a far more steady man than Percival. He was grateful for his butler. Norman never spoke of Percival much, and it seemed as though the fellow could just carry on as he pleased. Several years back, there was an instance when Edward caught Percival outside smoking on his pipe.

Percival opened the door and extended his hand. “Do come in.”

“I thank you.”

“The duke is in the library, as usual.” Percival sighed.

“I don’t need to be announced. I’ll show myself in.”

As Edward walked down the hall, the various servants that he passed bowed. The female servants blushed. It was all to be expected. Approaching the library, Edward could hear the fire crackling. He stepped through the door, and there was Norman, book in hand, with a sad facial expression. If only his brother took the clean air more often. It would do something for his spirits. But Norman was always that way. He was an anxious child and wanted to be alone. Edward had tried to introduce him to ladies but with little success. What was his brother thinking?”

“Norman.”

His brother barely looked up from his book. “This dreaded rain.”

“It’s good for the countryside and begs for a warm cup of tea.”

“Did you say that to be endearing, or are you asking for a cup of tea?” Norman finally looked up.

“I’d accept one if it was placed in front of me.”

Norman reached over and rang a bell by his side. Edward found a chair, pushed back his coattails, and seated himself. They waited in awkward silence for the tea to arrive. Finally, a servant came scurrying into the library carrying a tray. Once the tea was poured and served, Norman sighed and continued the conversation.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”

“Not entirely my fault.” In fact, Edward was the one that needed to instigate the reunion.

“Now’s not the time for blame. We’ll enjoy supper in the grand dining room and catch up on affairs.”

The grand dining room. If only it were used in the manner for which it was intended. Edward recalled the remarkable dinners the former Duke of Bancroft held. The duchess, Edward’s mother, took great pains to ensure that the meals were utter perfection, and so they always were. Those halcyon days seemed so far in the past. Sage Brook needed life in it again.

“Is Stanley still with you?”

“He’s a decent cook. I’ve seen no reason to let him go.”

“Cooking for one, eh?”

Norman knit his brow. “Yes, brother. My chef cooks for me. He also prepares food for the staff.”

“At least he’s staying busy.”

“And do you not have a chef of your own, Edward? In a rather large estate where you live by yourself?”

Edward could glean what his brother was implying. “I keep a chef for the future of my estate. I shall have a wife, children, guests. In fact, I have guests already. There was a rather quaint party just last night.”

Why did Edward feel the need to explain himself to his brother? He knew his own intentions, and Edward had a way ofcarrying throughwith all his intentions. It was in his nature to do so.

“And when do you intend to have this wife?”

Edward cleared his throat. “By the end of the year.”

“Any prospects?”

“Plenty of prospects, just a horrible case of indecision.”

“You were always popular with the ladies. I’ll grant you that.”

“You could be too, Norman. You know that you’re a fine-looking chap. You’re a Pembroke.” Edward smiled.

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