Duke of Thorns (Heiress Games 1) Page 9

  Thorington didn’t sound much like a devil then. He sounded like he truly loved his brother. And she wondered, for a moment, how her own life would have been different if any of her brothers had survived infancy — if she had grown up with them, rather than with fuzzy memories of which foreign cities she’d lost them in.

  Perhaps one of them would have taken care of her. But if one of them had survived, he would be the new master of Maidenstone, and Callie wouldn’t be confronted with this mess.

  As usual, she had to solve this for herself. No one was coming to her rescue.

  She inhaled, but she didn’t scream. Instead, she leaned forward and met Thorington’s gaze.

  “I’ll consider marrying your brother. But only if you agree to my conditions.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean by ‘conditions’?” Thorington asked.

  He watched Callista draw herself together. The girl had a backbone. If she were anyone else, she would have crumbled under his regard as soon as he’d pulled a chair up next to her bed.

  He’d grant that she amused him. That was all he could afford to grant. Any other emotion he might have examined — any memory of the swell of her breasts beneath thin linen, or thought of how that saucy mouth might feel wrapped around…

  He had enough control to squash that thought before it finished.

  “I want to retain full control of my father’s shipping company. And Anthony must offer for me himself.”

  Both conditions surprised him. “I’ll indulge you for a moment,” he said, dropping into a drawl and feigning disinterest. “Why do you want to retain full control of a shipping company, of all things?”

  She shrugged. “My father built it himself. I wouldn’t want to see it neglected. Give me that as my portion and Anthony can have the rest of my fortune.”

  He thought her disinterest was just as false as his. No woman would demand a shipping company just because her father built it.

  “You would rather stake your security on a shipping company than on a pile of money? Your managers could leave you with nothing.”

  “I shall manage it myself,” she said. “I already do.”

  “Intriguing,” he murmured, still sounding bored even though she’d shocked him. “I didn’t know the Americans had grown so lax in their business habits in the years since our countries parted ways.”

  He’d said it to annoy her. Annoyed people usually became careless, and carelessness usually encouraged them to say too much. But Callista smiled sweetly. “If my father hadn’t died on another one of his larks, I might have had time to become the featherbrained female you men seem to prefer. Unfortunately, I had to provide for myself.”

  Thorington rubbed his hand over his mouth to cover his sudden smile. It wouldn’t do to show amusement. She might think she was gaining an advantage. “And when you win Maidenstone Abbey — what provision will you make for that?”

  She shrugged, sublimely indifferent to the prospect of inheriting one of the grandest estates in Britain. “Anthony can use it however he desires, so long as I retain the shipping company and my Baltimore house.”

  “Will you run away to America at the first opportunity?”

  “I don’t plan to. If the war progresses badly, I may not be able to return at all. But this is an arranged marriage. I’m sure Anthony wouldn’t mind my occasional absences.”

  Thorington had a brief moment of misgiving. Anthony wouldn’t want a loveless match, even if Thorington thought it would be safer for him.

  But it was Anthony’s safety, not his heart, that mattered. “You will have to discuss Baltimore with Anthony,” he hedged.

  “I don’t care so much about living in Baltimore,” she said, giving up the point more quickly than Thorington had expected. “But Anthony must agree to support me in whatever I decide to do with my shipping endeavors.”

  “That’s far more to ask than just letting you have your way,” Thorington pointed out.

  “There have been occasions when I could have made a better deal if a man had seemed to be at the helm,” Callista said slowly. “But Anthony won’t have to trouble himself with it. I just need a roi fainéant on occasion to sign the papers.”

  A king with no power. Callista was strong-willed; she could turn most men into rois fainéants, and they would happily yield just to win a smile from her.

  The thought didn’t make Thorington happy — not for Anthony’s sake, and not for Callista’s. She deserved something better than an empty marriage and the power of her husband’s name.

  But winning Maidenstone for Anthony was more important than what Callista deserved.

  “Very well,” Thorington said. “You have my word.”

  She exhaled. It was a sound that signified victory, more subtle than a trumpet on a battlefield but no less audible when he listened for it. “Then if Anthony offers for me, we have an agreement,” she said.

  “Anthony is capable of making pretty speeches when he feels so inclined. I’m sure he’ll make you quite happy.”

  He was lying through his teeth. Anthony still might not accept Callista. If that happened, they would need to leave Maidenstone and look for an heiress elsewhere. And finding an heiress in the dog days of August would be as difficult as making his fortune back by working in a lead mine. Unless he wanted to sell Anthony to an industrialist or a banker, someone looking to advance a cow-faced daughter in society, he needed Anthony to accept Callista as soon as possible.

  But at least he’d gained Callista’s acceptance. That gave him time to work on Anthony, without worrying that she would marry someone else in the next few days.

  Callista drew her knees up to her chest. “This isn’t about happiness. If it was, Anthony would have come here murmuring love words rather than sending you. But I thank you for pretending it figures into your calculations.”

  A knife dug into his side. “I cannot promise you happiness, Miss Briarley. But I vow you’ll be safe. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you win Maidenstone.”

  She laughed. “I’m under no illusions that you’re doing this for me.”

  The knife twisted. She was magnificent. Why would she accept a deal like this, when she deserved a love match? Her heart was too big, her smile too ready, her eyes too bright, for something as mercenary as what he proposed.

  But she had agreed to it. And as soon as she had Anthony’s ring on her finger, she wouldn’t be Thorington’s problem.

  “Sleep well, Miss Briarley,” he said. “And shove the chair under the doorknob if you cannot lock the door. We wouldn’t want some foul fortune-hunter sneaking up here in the dead of night.”

  “No one could be as audacious as you,” she said.

  She smiled as she said it. Thorington ignored the smile. He focused instead on how good she would be for Anthony, on how important her dowry was for their family. He could find a pretty smile in any brothel in London, as long as he wasn’t too particular on the number of teeth.

  But he didn’t sleep well that night. And it wasn’t victory that made him restless.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It took fifteen minutes for Callie to find the breakfast room. If she inherited Maidenstone, her first task would be to commission a map of the entire house. It seemed likely that there were rooms no one had entered in living memory.

  It wasn’t quite seven in the morning when she finally stumbled into a room that contained foodstuffs. She had thought she might have it to herself. Mrs. Jennings, with a sniff of disapproval, had made it clear that Callie’s early hours would be deemed unfashionable, even in the country. But she found Lord Anthony there, alone, with his head bowed.

  She hovered at the door. He hadn’t seen her yet. She could still leave.

  But there was something about the contemplative way he pushed his eggs around his plate that interested her. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. “Good morning, Lord Anthony,” she said. “It appears that we shall have another lovely day, doesn’t it?”

&
nbsp; He looked up when he heard her voice, coming to his feet in a gesture of respect. But if his reaction was polite, his eyes seemed disapproving. “Good morning to you as well, Miss Briarley. I did not expect to see you here.”

  “I cannot stand to stay in bed while the sun shines,” she said. “Do you also arise earlier than most?”

  “The ladies usually take their breakfasts on trays in their rooms,” he said, ignoring her attempt at conversation.

  She hoped his comment was an observation rather than a mandate. She couldn’t spend another minute in that tiny cell, especially when the memory of Thorington’s presence still filled it. “I find my room too dark to properly enjoy my breakfast,” she said. “May I join you?”

  She had wondered how to interact with Anthony when she saw him next. It was one of the thoughts that had kept her awake long after Thorington had left her. But she hadn’t expected that he would disapprove of her.

  That disapproval wasn’t a trick of the light, though. It rolled off of him like fog rushing over a headland. “I was just finishing. If you insist on staying, I cannot stop you.”

  Was it her imagination, or was there a ‘yet’ implied after that statement?

  She picked up a plate. The sideboard held chafing dishes full of tempting selections — perhaps even more tempting than dinner the night before, since the dishes were better equipped to keep the food at the proper temperature.

  “When I inherit Maidenstone, I shall have to retain the cook Lucretia’s hired. Do you think he’s French, or is he merely masquerading as a Frenchman?” she asked as she sat down.

  He’d stayed standing while she served herself — it wouldn’t be proper for him to sit until she did. But when she sat down with her plate, facing him with her back to the door, Anthony didn’t move. And he didn’t answer her question. He just stared at her as though he had been confronted with something that appalled him.

  “Won’t you join me?” she asked, gesturing at his unfinished plate. “It would be nice to converse with you.”

  Nice. Nice to converse with her future husband.

  “I don’t think it’s proper for us to be alone together. Are you going to trick me into marrying you?”

  Callie snorted. “We aren’t hiding — anyone could join us. And I don’t need to trick you, do I?”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  She coughed. “I don’t mean anything by it,” she said, trying to recover. “Don’t mind me — I rarely make sense before I’ve had my breakfast.”

  “He asked you, didn’t he.”

  Anthony’s voice was flat. Callie looked off to the side, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I thought you were in agreement,” she said.

  His hand clenched over the back of his chair. “When did he talk to you?”

  “Last night.”

  She still watched his hand. His fist was the only sign of tension. His voice was calm, albeit cool. “And should I congratulate us on our good fortune?”

  She finally met his eyes. “You should.”

  “Damn him,” Anthony swore.

  Callie carefully placed her fork on the table. “Do you not want to…accept our arrangement?”

  Anthony finally took a seat. “What arrangement did he make? Did he already sign the papers?”

  “No,” she said, making a mental note to get a contract from Thorington before progressing further. “But the agreement won’t be finalized until you offer for me yourself. He did say you are capable of pretty speeches.”

  “Did he?” Anthony shrugged. “He never listens to them.”

  That statement sounded resigned, not petulant. Anthony was three or four years younger than her, and the mix of bravado and uncertainty hadn’t settled yet into whatever mature face he might wear someday. Callie appraised him like she might a ship — he had good lines, a good record, and enough opportunity for improvement that he would be worth an investment. In a few years, with the right woman, it was quite likely he would be a very good man.

  He didn’t make her heart swell. He didn’t make her cheeks flush. He would be stable like a merchant ship, not swift and risky like a sloop or caravel.

  But she needed safe, not sorry.

  “I would listen,” she said. “We can pretend that no arrangement exists, if that suits you. Then you can make your pretty speech whenever you desire.”

  She saw him smile for the first time. “There is no need for that, Miss Briarley. But I appreciate the offer.”

  “Are you sure?” she said. “I might prefer to listen to a pretty speech if it meant you wouldn’t leave me to eat breakfast alone. How do you find Devon?”

  His mercurial smile faded. “I still don’t think you should be here.”

  “Are you really that proper?” she asked.

  He nearly snorted. “I don’t have to be. But with ladies it’s different. Your reputation is all you have, really. I wouldn’t want to cost you yours.”

  “Your brother doesn’t seem to care for his. Do most people in the ton hold your view, or are they lax like him?”

  Anthony laughed shortly. “Thorington is a duke. He doesn’t have to care. But ask anyone else — they’ll tell you the ton has no pity. And the lower your rank, the worse the risk. I must be more careful than Thorington is. And if you were to make a single social mistake, it would rapidly turn into complete disgrace.”

  She stabbed her fork into a slice of ham. “Are you concerned about my well-being? Or are you concerned that I’ll embarrass you?”

  He flushed. With his blond hair and fair skin, he couldn’t hide his discomfort as his brother could. “Your conversation is too forthright for a lady.”

  Had no one ever been direct with him? “If it’s merely a matter of learning some archaic rules, I can learn them well enough to avoid disgrace. But you must tell me what I should know.”

  “I am not a governess or a finishing school,” Anthony said. “I haven’t the first notion of what you should do. I merely recognize when you’re not doing it — such as now.”

  She reminded herself that she needed safety, even if Anthony’s judgment was the cost. “How should I learn it, then?”

  “Find someone to teach you,” he said, dismissal implied in his voice. “One of your cousins, perhaps.”

  “Why should I trust them? We are in competition for Maidenstone. They might tell me that all proper young ladies practice calisthenics on the front lawn in the nude, just to make me ineligible.”

  His smile returned, the one that made her think he might have some capability for humor buried beneath that starched cravat. “One of my sisters, then. Lady Portia and Lady Serena know their manners, even if they don’t always use them.”

  “If I had known lessons were required, I would have asked for a better marriage settlement,” she said.

  He didn’t take it or her conspiratorial smile as a joke. She saw a flash of steel in his eyes, just enough to make her wonder if he could someday turn into Thorington. “There won’t be a marriage if you embarrass me in front of my friends.”

  When Thorington made a threat like that, she felt some odd sense of heat — some unwelcome but oddly appealing knowledge that she was dealing with a man rather than a boy. Perhaps Anthony hadn’t mastered his tone yet. She only felt irritation, the kind that made her want to rebel rather than roll over.

  But before she said something regrettable, Anthony’s gaze flickered to a point over her head. “You’re awake early,” he said to whoever stood behind her.

  “Not early enough,” Thorington said.

  There was that odd sense of heat.

  Anthony scowled. “You should have sent a note informing me of my upcoming marriage.”

  Callie resolutely refused to turn around, but she could picture Thorington shrugging. “I decided to give you my felicitations in person.”

  “I’m not sure felicitations are in order,” Anthony said. “Not until I know she’s capable of behavior suitable for my wife. I told you I didn’t want to marry an
American.”

  Anthony hadn’t even bothered to look at her when he said it. “May I also have the opportunity to assess whether you are capable of behavior suitable for a husband? I hadn’t planned to marry a knob-kneed aristocrat,” she said.

  “Children,” Thorington said sharply. “Mind your manners — anyone could walk by. If you cannot be civil, we must discuss something else.”

  Anthony stood up. “No need. I was leaving anyway.”

  Callie rose as well. “Please, stay. I’m sure the two of you would appreciate time alone together.”

  Anthony snorted. “I make it a point to never be alone with him. Harder for him to order me about if I’m not nearby.”

  She turned toward the door, but Thorington blocked her. He couldn’t have slept any more than she had, but he looked perfectly composed and completely unruffled. “The two of you will marry even if I must toss you into a locked carriage bound for Gretna Green. Coming to an agreement here would be far more comfortable.”

  “She doesn’t know the first thing about society,” Anthony complained. “I could never host a house party with her, even if I did inherit Maidenstone. And if I become the Duke of Thorington someday, what kind of duchess would she make?”

  “Rafe and I aren’t dead yet, my boy. But since you asked my opinion so nicely…” He looked down at Callie. His quiet scrutiny should have unnerved her, but she was too mesmerized by the flash of humor in his eyes to be uncomfortable. “Miss Briarley would make the very best sort of duchess,” he said.

  That odd heat returned.

  She dropped her eyes. “I’ve no desire to be a duchess. I want to marry a third son and run a shipping company.”

  “A shipping company?” Anthony asked.

  He sounded like he had choked on something — probably his own pride. Thorington’s lips thinned. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “No, I’ve a right to know what you’ve signed me up for. She wants to run a shipping company? She might as well say she wants to run a string of Cheapside brothels.”