A ripple of uncomfortable laughter followed Robert down the stairs. He clamped his jaw shut hard. He wanted to ram his fist through Lullington’s sneering mouth, or bury his sword, hilt deep, in the man’s chest.
He certainly wasn’t going to marry Lullington’s scheming little cousin to please them. Charlie was the only one with the power to get him out of this predicament.
He snatched his hat from O’Malley and stormed out onto the street, almost colliding with someone on the way in. He opened his mouth to apologise, then realized it was Radthorn. He reached out and pressed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘John, thank God.’
‘Mountford?’ Embarrassment flashed across John’s handsome face. ‘You’re here?’
What the devil? ‘We had an appointment, remember?’ Robert dropped his hand. Had John joined the rest of them in sending him to Coventry? It certainly seemed so.
‘Damn you,’ he said. The curse made him feel only marginally better as he barrelled up St James’s Street.
Charlie was his only hope, because the duke had long ago washed his hands of his dissolute second son.
Mountford House was no different from all the other narrowly sedate houses on Grosvenor Square. A spinster on a picnic couldn’t be more externally discreet and so seething with internal passions. These days Robert only visited the Mountford London abode in Father’s absence. He might not have visited then, if it weren’t for Mother. He certainly didn’t visit Charlie who grew more like Father every day, only interested in his estates and the title and the name.
The door swung open. Robert ignored the butler’s hand outstretched for his hat and coat. ‘Is Tonbridge home?’
‘Yes, Lord Robert. In his room.’
‘Thank you, Grimshaw.’
He took the stairs two at a time and barged into Charlie’s chamber. A room with all the pomp and circumstance required for the heir to a dukedom, it was large enough to hold a small ball. The ducal coat of arms emblazoned the scarlet drapery and every piece of furniture. It always struck Robert as regally oppressive. Charlie took it as his due.
Charlie, Charles Henry Beltane Mountford, named for Kings and Princes, the Marquis of Tonbridge and the next Duke of Stantford, neatly dressed, his cravat pristine, his jacket without a crease, sat at his desk, writing.
He looked up when Robert closed the door. ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ he said coolly.
Robert rocked back on his heels. ‘You knew? You bastard. Why the hell didn’t you give me some warning?’
Charlie’s mouth flattened. ‘I sent word to your lodging. My man missed you.’
Robert ran a glance over his older brother. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. He saw his own brown eyes and dark brown hair, his square-jawed face and the cleft in the chin that made shaving a chore. He saw his own body, tall and lean, with long legs and large hands and feet, but he hated the rest of what he saw. The weary eyes. The lines around his mouth. He looked like their father.
He looked like a man who had given up the joy of life for duty and honour.
‘I need a loan so I can pay the girl off. With enough of a dowry, she’ll soon find a husband willing to hold his nose and that will be an end to it.’
Charlie tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. ‘I’m sorry, Robin. I don’t have that kind of money.’
‘Ask Father for a loan. He never refuses you anything.’
‘It’s all over town. Do you think he won’t know why I’m asking for such a large sum?’
‘Tell him it’s a gambling debt.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘You play, you pay. You know the rules. It’s time you settled down, anyway. Take some responsibility. Father will think the better of you for it.’
Robert clenched his fists at his side in an effort not to smash his fist in Charlie’s face. He took a deep breath. ‘What the hell, Charlie—do you think I’m going to marry a girl who was prepared to sacrifice her reputation for the chance of becoming a duchess? I did you a favour.’
Charlie’s gaze hardened. ‘Don’t bother. I don’t need your kind of favours.’
‘What if it had been you she’d lured into the library? Would you have married her, knowing she trapped you?’
Charlie curled his lip. ‘Come on, Robin, we both know there isn’t a female alive who can lure you if you don’t want to go. But if it had been me, I would have offered for her immediately. It would be my duty to the family name.’
Robert swallowed the bile rising in his throat. ‘I won’t be blackmailed into wedding a scheming little baggage.’
‘Marriage wouldn’t hurt you one bit.’
A sick feeling roiled around in Robert’s gut. ‘I’m not getting married to a woman who wanted my brother.’
Charlie looked at him coldly over the rim of his brandy glass. ‘Then you shouldn’t have kissed her.’
‘Damn it.’ Robert felt like howling. ‘She kissed me.’
‘You’ve been going to hell for years. Marriage will do you good. It will please Father.’
Robert’s gaze narrowed. He suddenly saw it all. The glimmer of regret in Charlie’s eyes gave him away. ‘You have already discussed this with Father. This is a common front, isn’t it?’ He balled his fists. ‘I ought to beat you to a pulp. How dare you and Father play with my life?’
Charlie’s mouth tightened. ‘No, Robert. You did this all by yourself. Even though I agree with you, it was her bloody fault, you ought to offer for the girl or you’ll leave great blot on the family name.’
‘That’s all you bloody well care about these days.’
‘It’s my job.’
They used to be friends. Now they were worse than strangers. Because Charlie disapproved of everything Robert did.
Robert stared at his older brother. Older by five minutes. Three hundred seconds that gave Charlie everything and left Robert with a small monthly allowance courtesy of his father. And because he’d thought to do his brother a favour, thought it might restore their old easy fun-loving companionship, he’d been cast adrift on a sea of the last thing he wanted: matrimony.
Hot fury roiled in his gut, spurted through his veins, ran in molten rivers until his vision blazed red. ‘No. I won’t do it. Not for Father and not for you. She made her bed, let her lie on it.’
‘Don’t be a fool. Lullington won’t forget this. You’ll never be able to show your face in town again.’
‘I’m a Mountford. With Father’s support…’
Charlie shook his head. ‘He’s furious.’
Bloody hell. Cast out from society, perhaps for all time? It wouldn’t be the first time the ton had discarded one of their own. Robert felt sick. ‘He’ll come around. He has to. Mother will make him see reason.’
‘Never at a loss, are you, Robin?’ Charlie frowned. ‘But I won’t have you upsetting our mother. I’ll talk to Father. Convince him somehow. It’s going to cost a lot of money and if I do this you have to swear to mend your ways.’
Ice filled Robert’s veins. He wanted to smack the disapproving look off his brother’s face. ‘What makes you a saint?’
Charlie gave him a pained look. ‘I’m not.’
‘I don’t suppose you could lend me a pony until quarter day. I’ve some debts pressing.’ Inwardly, he groaned. At least