After a tedious morning spent pouring over the details of a land dispute, James was famished. On a typical day, the butler might bring a tray of sandwiches to the office. More commonly, James was to be found out on the estate, meeting with tenants and addressing various management concerns, skipping the midday meal altogether.
He got to his feet and stretched, watching through the window as George and Sir Andrew caught up with the rest of the group returning from the greenhouses. He frowned as he took in his brother’s easy laugh. James was stuck inside all morning, while George spent the morning fishing under the September sun with nary a care in the world.
For four years now, James had played the role of silent duke. He contained the worst of George’s impulses, while fostering new economic opportunities for the estate, securing it for the unknowable future. But recently James felt a growing restlessness. He was tired, there was no doubt. Hell, in the past month it felt like he only managed two to three hours of sleep each night. He was overworked and under-appreciated…but that had always been the case, and he’d quite made his peace with it. He never expected George to recognize or value his contributions to the family.
So, what changed that James now felt so dissatisfied? Or perhaps the better question might be: what needed to change?
“My lord?” the butler said. “Luncheon will be ready in ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Reed,” he replied, smoothing down his waistcoat as he moved towards the door. “Once lunch is over, I’ll be out all afternoon. Do let my mother and brother know?”
“Of course, my lord,” Reed said with a slight bow.
Steeling himself, James went in search of his house guests.
The dining room was empty when James entered, save for two footmen busily setting up the last of the chafing dishes. Reed followed him into the room and quietly went about making sure all was in order.
“Where is everyone—”
Before James could finish the question, the plinking sound of a merry tune on the piano floated through the open door. A burst of laughter echoed over the music. James followed the sound towards the music room. Several ladies laughed and clapped as someone continued to plink a fast tune on the piano forte.
James crossed the sunny morning room and stepped into the music room to find the group in various states of sitting and standing, the older ladies all fanning themselves while sipping on small glasses of fresh lemonade. The elder Swindon girl was at the piano playing the jolly tune, while there, in the middle of the carpet, stood George…juggling three silver candlesticks. The younger ladies laughed and clapped as he sent them twirling through the air, nearly hitting the chandelier.
James slipped into the room, taking the empty place next to Renley. “What the hell is going on?”
Renley just shrugged. “Damned if I know,” he replied. “George said we were all being a dreary lot and demanded someone play. Then he just…started juggling.”
James glanced across the room to where Burke stood behind the duchess. Burke met his eye with a scowl. James gave a heavy sigh. “Is he drunk?”
“I don’t know…I don’t think so. It’s always so hard to tell with George,” Renley replied.
Just as George dropped one of the candlesticks, sending them all thunking to the carpet, Reed slipped into the doorway and gave James a subtle nod.
“And that’s the end of the morning’s entertainment, I’m afraid,” James called to the room, stepping over to place a firm hand on George’s shoulder. “Lunch is served. Ladies, please feel free to take your refreshments with you.”
He nodded to Burke and Sir Andrew, who did their duty and took the arm of the duchess and the marchioness. Behind him, Renley already had an arm out in invitation for the countess. The ladies filtered out, with most of the young maidens casting blushing smiles up at George. Even Madeline gave him a smile, though she looked like she might faint from the effort.
Only the oddity Miss Harrow seemed content to slip away. James frowned watching her leave. He was still furious at Burke and Renley for cornering her alone this morning. He wasn’t an idiot. He saw the way she was looking up at Renley…the way he was devouring her with his eyes…their clasped hands.
If they said nothing happened, he believed them, but the lady ought to know better. What could she have possibly had to say that would need to be held in secret? More importantly, if she was in trouble, why did she trust them and not him? Was it a failure of his duties if people in his own house couldn’t come to him with their problems?
Perhaps she just preferred their company to his…
She was just the sort of distraction none of them could afford. Her complexion and ready wit would need to be tempered by frequent reminders of her status as a social anchor, not a sail. James should have a quiet word with Burke soon. Between the two, he was the greater risk. James knew Burke’s type all too well. He would put money on it: Miss Harrow was going to cause trouble before the end.
He pushed all thoughts of her from his mind, turning his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you doing, George?”
George just chuckled as he replaced the candlesticks on the mantle. “Entertaining my guests. Which, as you’ll remember, was the threat you made to me yesterday. It’s either I entertain them, or you’ll shove your booted foot up my arse, right little brother?”
“I meant entertain them as a duke, not as a Medieval court jester.”
George laughed again. “You are so uptight. I seriously must wonder whether it is you with the boot lodged in your arse.” In a fit of boyish exuberance, he snatched at James, grabbing for the waist of his breeches, and made like he was going to wrestle James to the ground and check.
“George—fuck—” James wrestled himself away and stumbled back, adjusting his waistcoat with a sharp tug. Then he smoothed back his hair and took a deep breath. “Just…don’t embarrass us.”
“It was just a bit of fun, James,” George said with an annoyed frown. “You wouldn’t know the word ‘fun’ if it danced before you wearing nothing but father’s monocle.”
James refused to concede whether his brother had a point. When was the last time James had a little fun? He pushed the thought away. George got to have more than enough fun for the both of them. “After lunch, I’ll be out for most of the afternoon, but I’ll return in time for dinner.”
George walked away with a shrug, for he couldn’t care less. He asked no questions about the business that pulled James away. His business. Duke business. He paused at the door and tossed over his shoulder, “Come home early enough and you’ll catch my evening show. I might just be sporting that monocle…and nothing else.”
