Page 35 of An Offer for a Spinster
Timothy clenched his jaw. The task in question was to accompany his sister, mother, and aunt to a soiree hosted by somebody or other, since Christopher and his wife had better things to do, and Lord Rustford himself was far too important to represent the family at a soiree.
“I had planned to work tonight, Father.”
“Ha!” Lord Rustford gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’ll take them, and that’s final.”
Of course, it was not final. Timothy could have simply laughed, turned on his heel, and walked out of his family home, picking up his coat and hat as he went.
However, it was likely he would not be permitted to return. Lord Rustford was a spiteful man, and this was not the hill Timothy was prepared to die on.
He said nothing, and this was taken as acceptance.
“Dress quickly,” Lord Rustford said shortly, pushing past him to leave. “I believe your brother has some clothes you can wear. They leave at seven o’ clock, sharp.”
Resisting the urge to point out that the ladies would be going nowhere without their escort, Timothy gritted his teeth and followed his father.
Christopher’s brown suit fitted well enough, if a little loose around the waist. Timothy tried his best to tuck in the excess fabric.
“It’s sympathy weight,” Christopher said defiantly, lounging in the doorway. “Constance will start to get bigger soon, and I don’t want her to feel bad about herself.”
“How good of you.”
His brother still lingered there, and Timothy cast him a curious glance. It wasn’t like Christopher, wanting to spend more time than was strictly necessary with his younger brother. Or any of his family, truthfully, with the exception of Constance.
“Is everything alright?” Timothy asked in the end. His brother glanced away.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think you deserve to be told sooner rather than later.”
Timothy glanced back at his reflection, heart thumping. “Oh?”
“When Constance has the baby, I intend to spend time being a father. It’s an important business, having a child, and we’ve waited for this one for some time.”
Timothy wasn’t entirely sure how this affected him, but he waited patiently.
“Father intends to bring you into the business again, to take my place,” Christopher said, in a rush. “Since I won’t be able to work such long hours. He talked about it last night.”
The hairs on the back of Timothy’s neck rose. “What? I don’t want to be involved with the business. I have no head for business. Besides, there’s my…”
“Your what?” Christopher interrupted, sneering. “Your writing? Yournovels? Be serious, Timothy. I’m talking about real work. You can write novels in your spare time, if you like.”
Timothy opened his mouth, intending to explain just how difficult it was to write a novel, how long it took, how much it meant to him and his readers.
He closed his mouth again. There was no point. Already, Christopher was distracted, picking at his cuffs.
“Thank you,” Timothy said. “Thank you for the warning.”
His brother glanced sharply at him, looking a little worried now. “Warning? It’s not a warning. I just thought you’d needsome time to come to terms with it. You know what Father is like. This is happening, Timothy. There isn’t a great deal you can do about it. Soon, it’ll be all arranged, and that will be that.”
“Just like how there was nothing I could do about leaving home, about choosing to be a writer, choosing to lead my own life?” Timothy shot back; voice clipped. “Just as how it wasall arrangedthat I would marry Miss Somerson, the heiress, regardless of the fact I hadn’t even met her, becauseyouwanted to marry Constance instead. I seem to recall that despite all of those things beingall arranged, they didn’t happen.”
Christopher flushed. “Be reasonable, Timothy.”
“No, thank you,” Timothy said coolly, affixing a cravat pin in place. It was one of Christopher’s, but his brother would simply have to get over it. “I don’t think I will. Do excuse me – we’re leaving at seven o’ clock sharp.”
That wasn’t the end of the conversation, of course. Christopher scurried down the stairs after him, looking nervous.
“You won’t tell Father that I told you, will you? He said you weren’t to know until things were in place.”
“No, Christopher, of course I won’t.”
