George was taking it for granted that he would agree to this request. Maybe he would. It was something new, possibly interesting, possibly dangerous. And while he hadn’t thought of leaving town to escape the repercussions of the scandals, this would save him from having to look for a new residence. It would also get him out of town before his father arrived.
“Who is this package I’m to protect?”
“It’s better that you not know. Be warned, he’s a liar, so believe nothing he says. I’m providing both of you with false identities, the names of the guests your host is expecting. Use them. Any and all precautions, dear boy, shall be your motto. And do practice patience. As I said, he can be an incessant nuisance.”
Montgomery raised an auburn brow. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you’re trying to talk me out of this, George, before I can agree.”
“Not a’tall. Forewarned is forearmed, a bit of advice from my advisers. But you wouldn’t really refuse, would you?”
George actually appeared to be taken aback. He wasn’t used to being told no—except by the government that controlled his purse strings. Montgomery was glad no one controlled his, otherwise his father would have cut him off long ago. Instead of giving him an annual allowance when he’d left home, each of his parents had given him a small property that supported him, nothing grand, but more than enough for his simple needs: nice clothes, nice pistols, a good horse, and enough money to rent decent lodgings. An extravagant house would be forthcoming on his wedding day, but what did he need with extravagance—or a wife? Wives nagged, wives curtailed, wives heaped guilt on you if you strayed. And since he was in the habit of straying . . .
Without waiting for an answer, obviously not wanting to hear one that wouldn’t please him, George said, “I will send him to you early tomorrow morning in a nondescript coach for your journey. And Lady Tyler tonight . . . ? ”
Montgomery stood, pocketed the note, picked up a pastry, and nodded. Before he walked out the door, he tossed back, “Absolutely no more contretemps?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” George called after him. “My dear Maria has forgiven me. I had a note from her yesterday.”
Maria Fitzherbert? George’s longtime mistress with whom he’d caused quite a scandal when he’d illegally married her all those years ago? Thank God for small favors.
Chapter Three
“IFOUND OUT TODAY THESEwomen areold. What the deuce, Monty? How can anyone believe you’re pursuing them, let alone gossip about it?”
Montgomery turned to glance at Andrew filling the doorway to his room. The vexed expression on his brother’s face amused him. He supposed he’d be just as perplexed over the age difference and really wished he could explain the situation to his favorite brother, but that would defeat the purpose of the whole charade.
They both took after their parents, but not the same one. Montgomery was as tall as their father at a little over six feet, and had the same auburn hair. But he had their mother’s emerald eyes. Andrew got his shorter stature and brown hair from her side of the family but had the same lighter green eyes, the color of fresh limes, as their father.
Andrew was the brother he’d been closest to growing up in Suffolk. Weston, their eldest brother, had had different tutors and responsibilities befitting the heir. Six years their senior, he couldn’t be bothered by the brats, as he called them, and their more rambunctious predilections. Weston had even called their sisters, Evelyn and Claire, brats, because they were the only ones who got away with teasing and otherwise annoying him at every opportunity.
All of Monty’s older siblings were married but not very happily. Weston’s wife was a nag; Evelyn wasn’t speaking to her husband; Claire had returned home to live with their parents because she wanted a divorce but couldn’t get one. Only Andrew had no complaints about his spouse, but then he often traveled—without her. A good strategy if it was a strategy, Montgomery thought, because didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? There was enough evidence in his own family to convince him that marriage wasn’t for him. Even his parents had argued a little too often for his liking during his last years at home.
He finished tying his cravat before answering evasively. “Thetonis bored; they’ll gossip about anything, even a polite kiss on the hand.”
“So you didn’t bed them? Why the deuce didn’t you say so sooner?”
He grinned at Andrew, his senior by only eleven months. “And ruin your diatribe?”
“We’ll put a stop to this outrageous gossip immediately. You know how serious scandals can be. People die from them in crimes of passion, suicides, or duels, and entire families can be ostracized, which is utterly ruining. So I’ll help to defuse this while I’m here.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, dear brother. I rather like the notoriety, and if it warns off the debutantes, all the better. I assure you, no one is dying over any silly rumors circulating about me.”
“When do you even run into debutantes?”
“Our family has too many mothers-in-law who live in London.”
“Ah, point taken.”
“I usually ignore their invitations, but sometimes I can’t. But now I should receive fewer of them.”
“You still don’t want to marry? Ever?”
“When I don’t need to? Our parents have six grandchildren already, and there are bound to be many more, which is more’n enough to assure the family line will continue long into the future. There are benefits to being the youngest of five, Andy. Why the deuce wouldn’t I take advantage of that?”
“Maybe because Father still wants you to marry?”
“Father doesn’t need to always get what he wants. Besides, dragging all his offspring to the altar has just become a bloody habit for him. Why don’t you point that out to him the next time you see him?”
“He’ll probably be here tomorrow, you can brave that conversation yourself.”
