“They say, do they?” Baldwin said softly. “Dotheyalso have a reason why an American would come here to do his shopping when there is so much tension between his country and ours at present?”
His mother shrugged. “Not really. I’ve heard whispers he may sympathize a bit more with our side in the current environment.”
Baldwin scrunched up his nose. Although he was certainly a good British subject and supported his government in all their endeavors, he didn’t like the idea of a traitor. Even one from the other side.
“An American?” he groaned, pacing the room and running a hand through his hair. “Have we really sunk so far?”
She set her papers aside. “I don’t know, Baldwin, because I am aware you keep secrets from me. But I think you know the answer, don’t you?”
He pursed his lips and refused to answer one way or another.
When he had been silent for too long, she got up. “This man is rumored to have fifty thousand to settle onto his daughter, and he is wild about the idea of marrying into a title. What better title is there than that of Sheffield? You are twenty-seventh in line for the throne. That may not mean anything to you or to your friends, but to this man and his very new money, it means a great deal.”
“Fifty thousand,” he repeated, the words sounding and tasting very bitter. With fifty thousand he could hold off the creditors and invest…not gamble…invest. “All right,” he whispered. “All right. I will consider your American.”
His mother’s face lit up, and she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but before she could, there was the sound of thundering hooves from the drive. Both turned toward the window to see the Duke of Dunburrow’s carriage coming to a stop in the round.
“Oh, Charlotte and Ewan are here!” his mother gasped, clapping her hands together.
“Let’s greet them,” Baldwin said, motioning to the door. She scurried out and he followed, relieved to leave the talk of blunt and heiresses and everything else behind. It was necessary, he knew that, but that fact made it no less oppressive.
More oppressive, actually.
He stepped onto the stone front steps just as one of his oldest and dearest friends, Ewan, Duke of Dunborrow, stepped down. He turned back and held out a hand for his bride. As Baldwin’s sister stepped into view, Baldwin caught his breath. There was no denying the happiness she felt. It was written all over her beautiful face as she leaned up to touch her husband’s cheek and whisper something to him.
Ewan had always been a serious person. Baldwin understood why. Hell, he was a serious person, himself. But his new brother-in-law’s seriousness had come from something deeper. Born mute, he’d spent a lifetime being treated differently, even horribly. But now he looked…bright as he smiled at whatever his new bride had said. He tucked Charlotte’s hand into the crook of his elbow to guide her up the stairs.
“They are a handsome couple,” his mother breathed, putting words to Baldwin’s own thoughts.
He nodded. “Made all the more handsome by their happiness, I think.”
She glanced at him briefly, and he saw a flicker of sadness, of regret pass over her face. He ignored it, ignored the twist in his gut at the sight and the meaning of it. And his family reached the top step at that moment to save him from more of it.
“Mama, Baldwin,” Charlotte said as she slipped from Ewan’s touch and embraced first her mother, then her brother. Baldwin’s smile became less forced as she pulled away and looked him up and down. “Are you eating?” she asked.
Ewan grinned and pulled her back, signing quickly to her. While he generally communicated via writing, he and Charlotte had created their own hand language as children and that made things easier.
“I am not being too pushy,” Charlotte laughed before she stuck her tongue out at her husband. “Tell him I’m not pushy, Baldwin—I must have someone have my side.”
“Yes, you are,” Baldwin laughed. “But I miss your pushiness. Welcome back to London, come in before the skies open up and let’s eat so you stop pestering me about my weight.”
She swatted his arm gently and then turned back to her husband. They all entered the house and back into the sitting room where Baldwin had earlier been with his mother. The duchess gathered up her papers as Charlotte poured tea for everyone. Baldwin stood aside as his little family buzzed and interacted. He was happy for Charlotte and Ewan. They had not had an easy time coming to accept their love and their future. But here they were. And in fact, they were the fourth of his large group of friends, his duke club, that had found such powerful and beautiful love in the last year.
And here he was, preparing for a Season where he had to find a wife. Full stop—that was his only job for the next few months. And yet he wasn’t looking for love like Charlotte and Ewan had found. He would have no soul mate, no person he looked at like she was the only person in the world. No person who would love him for all his faults and failures, as well as for the title that hung around his neck.
No, he was looking for a mercenary lady who would fill his coffers for the benefit of being called “Her Grace”.
He resented that. In that moment, as he watched Ewan rest a hand on Charlotte’s lower back while they stood across the room with the Duchess of Sheffield, Baldwin resented it like hell.
But there was no way around it, it seemed. He had not set this ball to rolling down the hill, but he hadn’t stopped it, either. He had, in fact, added to its weight after his father’s death with his own bad decisions and equally bad impulses.
So if he did not get the happy ending of his friends and his sister, perhaps he deserved that.
Ewan met his eyes and tilted his head slightly. He signed something to Charlotte and then began to cross the room. “Bollocks,” Baldwin muttered, but he smiled as his brother-in-law came to his side. “Donburrow.”
Ewan dug into his pocket and withdrew a silver notebook and short pencil. Swiftly, he wrote a few lines and handed it over. “What’s wrong?”
Baldwin drew in a long breath. “You know, everyone keeps asking me that. Do I look so very terrible? I’m beginning to feel insulted.”
