The cot in the corner of the makeshift office proved his brother’s ceaseless dedication to this project.
Last winter, Rowan had purchased a broken-down townhouse from a poverty-stricken viscount. He’d wasted no time razing the entire structure in order to build something he swore would put every other Mayfair house to shame.
Addison did not doubt for an instant that Rowan would do precisely that.
“I did. Spent a fortnight with Mother before leaving her to her own devices.” Although he loved his mother, as all good sons did, being at home alone with her had proven to be stifling. “She wasn’t pleased at my departure.”
Addison reached down to rub a hand along Zeus’s back while Hera explored the floor around his brother’s boots. He’d only weathered his mother’s displeasure in order to collect his two most faithful companions to bring along with him to London.
Rowan crouched down and, rubbing her chin, addressed the dog rather than Addison. “Does the duchess have another candidate for your master, sweetheart? Are you excited to have a mother?” Construction dust stood out starkly on Rowan’s dark skin, making his brother’s eyes appear even blacker than normal.
More than a dozen years had passed since Addison’s brother lived as a part of their family, and yet Rowan Stewart, the bastard son of the former Duke of Bedwell, kept well abreast of their affairs.
“Six of them,” Addison answered. But for the lack of a marriage certificate between his mother and their father, Rowan would be the one evading such manipulations.
But, unfortunately the pressure for Addison to marry fell squarely on his own shoulders—from both external as well as internal sources. He fully intended to fill a nursery with all sorts of little Briertons—both male and female. But he would do so at his own inclination. Perhaps he’d meet an appropriate lady in the coming spring.
His mother, however, had other ideas. In fact, she had very particular ideas about whom he ought to take as his bride. The very moment she’d handed him a list of names, of ladies listed in order of suitability, he’d made up an excuse to leave for London. He’d allow her to explain his absence when they arrived at Brier Manor, along with their parents, the following week.
Brier Manor was located near the small village of Bedwellshire, just off the southeast coast of England, making it a few days’ drive from London. If he was present when they arrived, he wouldn’t have been able to extricate himself without appearing ill-mannered.
Not being there to begin with had eliminated the necessity of such unpleasantness altogether.
Pleasant.
He grimaced at the root of the word, wondering when he could hear it or think it without being reminded of her refusal.
“Their loss is London’s gain.” Rowan rose and, after a quick glance at his papers, swept his gaze around the makeshift office and then back to Addison. “Care for a tour?”
“I’d feel slighted if you didn’t offer.” And then asked, “any more problems with vandals?” Trouble had begun shortly after residents of Mayfair became aware of the sale.
His brother ran a hand over his smooth-shaven, brown head. “It ceased for a while but seems to have ramped up again.”
“Have you considered posting a guard at night?”
“If it gets any worse, I’ll have no choice but to do just that.”
One would have thought that in such an exclusive neighborhood, vandals wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately, Addison realized the vandalism was a result of the very exclusive nature of the neighborhood itself. If the trouble persisted, Addison would hire his own investigator to look into it.
Rowan brushed his hands, as though to dismiss the subject, and then proceeded to lead Addison around a structure that, if the bones were an accurate representation of the end result, was going to be about twice the size of his own townhouse—one that had been built for his grandfather, the Third Duke of Bedwell, nearly a century before.
“Good God, Row, you’re building a bloody castle.” Addison drifted through an unfinished door onto a terrace balcony. Across the street, trees in Hyde Park dotted the horizon.
Hopefully keeping out of trouble.
“It’s an investment.” Rowan joined him at the railing, draping his clasped hands over the edge. “Why are you really here, Ad? Leaving the duchess in the lurch like that isn’t like you at all.”
“I told you.” Addison stretched his shoulders uncomfortably.
Rowan didn’t answer. When this mansion was completed, Addison surmised that this balcony would be a decent place for one to escape, to retreat from one’s duties if only for a few minutes.
But for now, the sounds of workers hammering and shouting instructions at one another made an odd sort of cacophony in the background.
The terrace might also lend itself to more relaxation if one’s older brother wasn’t staring at him with an all-too-knowing expression.
“Not that I am not always happy at the prospect of your unexpected company, but you’ve never been inclined to give into impulse. Furthermore, you told me you thought you ought to marry within the next few years and as much as I hate to admit it, your mother seems to only want to assist you in this endeavor.”
“She wants to do more than that.” Addison thrust aside an unwelcome image of his mother standing at his bedside instructing him on the dos and don’ts of consummation. It was a stretch but not much of one.
