Page 1 of A Duchess Mistaken
CHAPTER 1
Johnathan was going to throttle his brother.
He paced back and forth in the foyer, glancing up at the clock every few seconds. No matter how many times he looked at it, time didn’t seem to be moving. All it did was anger him to know that it was this late and his blasted brother was not yet home.
Did he not realize how important this was?
Johnathan raked his hands through his hair, desperate to get out some of the anxious energy thrumming through his body. He wanted to go for a ride. Or at least work out some of his frustrations through fencing. Maybe Christopher could be his partner. Or at least his training dummy. Right now, the thought of poking a few holes in his brother sounded very satisfying.
“Perhaps he was in an accident, Your Grace,” came the slightly trembling voice of his housekeeper. She hovered on the edgeof the foyer, rubbing her hands together. She kept darting at the clock as well, her nervousness palpable enough to drive Johnathan further insane.
“That is not what I wish to hear right now, Mrs. Adams,” Johnathan grumbled, pausing his pacing for a second to look at the clock again. It was nearing ten in the night. Where in God’s name was he?
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she murmured, but her apprehension was still evident in her voice.
“It is likely that time simply got away from him,” Johnathan went on. “You know how callously he treats his responsibilities. I would not be surprised if he has not even remembered what should be happening this evening.”
“It is a good thing that the viscount and his family have not yet arrived then.”
Yes, that was a good thing, but only in that regard. The Viscount of Sutton and his family should have arrived two hours ago. They had not sent word of their delay so Johnathan could only hope they had not decided against coming. He didn’t even want to consider that thought, though. It would cause more distress.
Suddenly, the telltale sound of stones crunching under wheels came from outdoors. Johnathan stalked to the window to see one of his carriages at the front of the castle. Johnathan muttered a curse under his breath and marched out the front door.
He made it down the steps just in time to see his brother stumble out of the carriage, nearly falling to his knees. Johnathan reared to a halt in horror.
“By God, man, are you drunk?” he exclaimed.
Christopher squinted up at him, quite a feat considering it was nighttime and they were under the cover of darkness, with most of the moonlight blanketed by the clouds. The glow of the candlelight from the manor must have been enough, however, because Christopher released a sloppy grin.
“Ah, Brother, you have arrived just in time,” he slurred. He reached out a hand. “Help me walk, will you? I fear I will not make it to the door without skinning at least one knee.”
“I should be the one skinning you,” Johnathan seethed. “Do you not realize how late it is?”
Christopher blinked up at the sky. “Nighttime, is it not?”
“It is after ten at night! Have you forgotten that the Viscount of Sutton will be visiting us?”
Christopher gave him a blank look. “The Viscount…”
“Oh, for God’s sake, get inside. I would hate for them to arrive to see you out here like this.”
Johnathan ignored the hand his brother held out to him and stepped to the side, crossing his arm. Christopher heaved a heavy sigh, as if the world’s burden had been placed on his shoulders, and staggered his way into Claymore Castle. Johnathan followed closely behind, barely able to hold in his anger.
“Mrs. Adams,” Johnathan called. She rushed up to attention. “Help my brother to his chambers, please.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.” She hesitated then added, “What of the viscount’s visit?”
“I loathe to see their faces when they witness my brother’s inebriation,” Johnathan snarled. “I would not be surprised if they turned back around.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Brother,” Christopher sighed. He leaned heavily against the balustrade of the staircase. “They would not even know. I am quite good at pretending I am fine. See?”
He straightened, pulling on his cravat. Johnathan assumed he was attempting to straighten it but all he did was make it undone. Christopher cleared his throat, raised his chin, and then stuck out his hand.
“Good evening, my lord…”
He trailed off. Johnathan narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he might have been tempted to believe him if Christopher hadn’t slurred his words and had forgotten who he was pretending to address.
“Go off to bed, Christopher,” Johnathan said, trying to contain his frustrations.
