Page 11 of A Lady of Means
Devyn shook his head.“A title isnotwithin my grasp.I’m your heir until you see reason and find a wife.Besides, do you want me to enter into a union with a wife who suddenly accepts my suit once she hears of our… history?”
Peregrine’s brow furrowed and he set down his teacup and saucer.“I think you discredit the young lady, brother.How do I even begin to explain Lady Moria?Were you to spend more time in society you would see quite clearly that she cannot afford to marry a captain of her majesty’s army set to ship out in a short amount of time.Especially not whilst her younger sister is unwed.Such a match would greatly diminish the…fanfare and revelry that she receives everywhere her ladyship goes.She’s not justanylady, Devyn, she’sthelady.”
Devyn shook his head and looked off into the distance.He was well aware of why she hadn’t accepted his suit.He didn’t need Peregrine to point it out.He knew he had little to offer her.
“I’m not willing to take from you in order to win her.”
Peregrine’s blue eyes softened.“It would only be taking from me if I hadn’t already offered it, Devyn,” he gestured around him, “All of this is, by rights, yours, brother.”
Devyn tilted his head to the side, weighing his words.“By birth, yes.Not by rights.Is the commitment and dedication to justice for those who cannot fight for themselves that you’ve brought to your role not ‘right’ enough, Peregrine?”
Peregrine was silent, then after a long moment as both brothers watched the fire in the grate nearby dwindle, the older of the two broke the silence.“You honor me, brother.I only want you to admit that one day the mantle of warrior will grow heavy, and you will want to place it down, and when you do, if my…stepping aside…would ease your way, I’ll not protest.I’ll do it gladly.”
And at that, Peregrine set down on the table an invitation to a ball.Devyn knew what it was.It was an offer to help, a gauntlet being thrown.Devyn could attend as his guest, he could receive an introduction to Lady Moria with Peregrine’s help.If he wanted her, he had to play the game.
Devyn reached out a hand to squeeze his older brother’s shoulder, noting the graying at his temples and the laugh lines at his eyes.He’d never have the ease Peregrine had with words and with others, hell Devyn intimidated people just by skulking into a room.But if Devyn did take his brother up on his offer, he had only to follow his brother’s example.
* * *
“His lairdship bust yer balls, then?”
Calum Sterling called to Devyn when the latter returned to the townhouse they shared a few streets off the fashionable part of London.Calum was Scottish and had been part of Devyn’s regiment for the last 6 years, and as he was from a working-class family, Devyn had suggested he stay with him when they were stationed in town rather than springing for his own lodgings.
There was plenty of room, and someone had to keep Calum from trouble when he was too deep in his cups.There were some in their regiment who erroneously blamed his mischief on Calum’s being a Scot; but Devyn knew that Calum, while having an honorable nature, simply couldn’t say no to a revel, or a dare, or a challenge.It made for a bold soldier and a reckless civilian, but a good man to have at one’s back.
Devyn didn’t answer Calum’s question, opting instead to remove his boots and rummage through the larder.“Peregrine?No,” Devyn set the ingredients on the counter and started making a sandwich.“My brother always means well.He just serves food meant for half pints and not for grown men.”
“I fig’red he found out about yer…epistolary courtship…and wanted to talk some much needed sense into ye.”
Devyn talked around a mouthful of sandwich, “The opposite in fact.”
Calum set down a glass of wine in front of him.“Reverse psychology, then?”
Devyn shook his head.“An invitation to a ball.”
Callum grimaced.“Big barrel-chested bastard like yerself at a ball?Sounds like a duel waitin’ to happen if ye ask me.”
“Good thing I’ll have you as my second.”
Callum sighed, taking the glass of wine from Devyn and draining it.“God help me, Cap’n.”
ChapterFive
The Burn Book:Property of Lady Margaret
Tristan Valentine: If I were a more honest woman, I’d list the trove of information I know about Lord Valentine.However, if he ever found out he’d made an entry in such a book as this and that someone had thought to record his litany of indiscretions, society would never recover from an ego of such inflated proportions.
* * *
Moria might be secretly piningafter a man shedefinitelymaybe could not have, but that didn’t mean she was idle.She had learned in her first season that it wasn’t the substance of a lady that mattered to theton; it was what she was seen to be, and who she wasseento be with.Ornotseen with.
By outward appearances, Moria had two best friends, Lady Gretchen von Mien and Miss Carina Smythe.In truth, she had many companions, none she held in closer esteem than her sisters.
Lady Gretchen was married to an Austrian diplomat who wasn’t particularly well-versed in English and seemed to have a strong affinity for strudel and little else.Carina was accomplished, rich, and beautiful.Her greatest accomplishment, in Moria’s opinion, was to be society’s most fashionable widow at the age of six and twenty.
On this particular day, they were at a lending library.
“I thought we’d be working on preparations for the debut ball for the remainder of the afternoon, why did you bring us to a library?”Gretchen probed, running a hand over a leather tome and grimacing at the dust that coated her glove.
