“The damage is too great. You will have to have a new one made,” Jacob drawled, rolling his signet ring around his finger. When he’d reached his majority, he’d had one made in the style of Cecil’s—which he had stolen for the endeavour—to annoy him, and to remind the world that he was a Barrington.
Cecil’s fury had been worth the effort he had gone to.
“And how, pray, are you going to pay to have a new one made?” Cecil demanded.
“I have no intention of paying for it. Your fortune is far greater than my paltry allowance.”
Cecil’s nostrils flared. “I pay your paltry allowance!”
“Then you ought to be aware of its insignificance.”
“Perhaps I should cut you off.”
“That seems somewhat churlish when you own four houses.” Jacob gave a sharkish smile. “Though I’m sure none of your closest friends would think anything amiss with casting your only remaining family member to the wind.”
“Few who know you would question it, I think,” Cecil said coldly. “You take no responsibility for your actions.”
Jacob glanced across the room, marking every person who was subtly watching their argument past fluttering fans or glasses of punch. “Why would I take responsibility for my actions when you have always done so, and so admirably?” Rarely acknowledged bitterness sharpened his voice. “You are the perfect son, are you not, and I am your wild, sinful younger brother who makes you virtuous by comparison. Has that not always been my role? Why throw it away now?”
Cecil glowered at him. “You can’t taint me with the sins of our father.”
That was the first time Cecil had criticised their father’s behaviour, and Jacob tilted his head, smile fading. “I don’t,” he said. “I judge you purely according to your own sins, dear brother. But fear not, I won’t tell anyone.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” A muscle in Cecil’s jaw jumped. “You need a vocation, Jacob. Something to keep you out of trouble.”
“On the contrary; I already have one.”
“Dissipation is not an occupation.”
Jacob gave a lazy smile he knew his brother detested. “Unfortunately, I find myself extremely busy.”
“Fleeing vengeful fathers and cuckolded husbands? Or perhaps just taking widowed ladies on inappropriate excursions?”
Jacob glanced across at Clarissa, who was laughing with another gentleman, her eyes sparkling. Truth be told, she had already started to bore him, but he would never have confessed that to his brother. “Is she not delightful?”
“The whole of London knows your affairs.”As they have for five years.The words were unspoken but angry. They had never openly addressed what had happened with Madeline five years ago, but he doubted Cecil had forgiven him. No doubt now he was worried Jacob had come to stand between him and this Lady Annabelle.
Of course, Jacob knew he would never seduce and ruin an unmarried lady again. But Cecil did not.
To reinforce that thought, he raised his eyebrows at Clarissa. “I suppose I should dance with her, then. Or make the most of this vast house. How many unoccupied rooms are here, do you think?”
“In the Duke of Norfolk’s home?” Cecil spluttered. “You would not dare.”
“Watch me.” With a wink, Jacob sauntered over to where Clarissa was procuring herself some lemonade. She glanced up at him, lips curving into a smile.
“Speaking to me in public, Jacob?” She popped a strawberry in her mouth, biting seductively. “You must be intending to pique your brother.”
“And if I am?”
“How flattering you chose me,” she said dryly, and he laughed.
“I can make it worth your while.”
“Am I such a certainty you have dispensed with manners entirely?”
“Why, do you need wooing, Clarissa?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Find an empty room and I shall show you just what sort of wooing I am capable of.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “In the Duke’s house? How scandalous.”
