Smythson was a redbrick manse surrounded by gardens that had at one time been designed by no less a personage than Capability Brown. Lucy wasn’t much for gardens or management, and her husband’s death hadn’t made her rise to the situation. When Bran had first arrived as the duke’s guardian, the estate had been on the brink of ruin. The lawns had been ill kempt, the stables were a shambles, and his nephew’s schooling tuition had not been paid in years. He was amazed they took him back term after term.
Bran had corrected the problems, using his money to do so because at the time Winderton didn’t have any. The old duke had been an exceedingly unwise gambler. Bran had learned there was no investment too ridiculous for his brother-in-law to throw money at, no horse too much of a long shot not to wager upon.
Of course, Lucy had not wished for anyone to know the state of her affairs. What Bran had done for the estate and for his nephew was their secret, and, yes, when his nephew acted immature and entitled, Bran wished he was at liberty to tell him a few hard facts. His sister had always stopped him... but someday, he needed to sit the duke down and explain.
As it was, Bran had successfully turned the estate around. It was profitable again and meeting its obligations. The gardens were well-groomed and the stables organized. The money generated by the estate was going into a fund that was earning Winderton 3 percent, Bran’s gift to his ward. However, Winderton was fast approaching his majority; the time would come for him to take over, ready or not for the responsibility.
A groom waited to take Orion and the other horse. After dismounting, Randall led Bran inside and up the front stairs to the Dowager Duchess of Winderton’s private quarters.
Lucy was still in her black dressing gown and lace cap and standing in the center of the room when Bran presented himself. She was a handsome woman for her age with gray streaks beginning in her dark hair. Her figure was plumper than when she was married. She blamed her eating as well as everything else on the need for comfort in her loneliness. Bran thought the extra stone or so of weight suited her. Both brother and sister had the Balfour “silver” eyes.
She launched into him. “I sent my message demanding your immediate presence late yesterday morning. You should have been here last night.”
“I was required to attend a meeting about the bridge—”
“The bridge.The bridge,” she mocked. “I’m so tired of this bridge, especially when I need you here. Christopher needs you here.”
“I saw Christopher in London a few weeks ago. He was fine.”
“He isnotfine now.” She began furious pacing, her arms gesturing wildly. “You must talk sense into him because he is not listening to me. Anddon’ttell me you hurried to Smythson because I know you went shooting with your fellows this morning. The Logical Men’s Society! An excuse for men to behave like boys, if you ask me.” Lucy was an important member of the Matrons of Maidenshop. “That you would choose them over your sister—” She made an exasperated sound before chiding, “And don’t deny you wouldn’t, because you did so today.”
Bran couldn’t take her charging around him a second longer. He caught her, a hand on each arm, and guided her to the wing chair in front of the cold hearth. Sitting her, he knelt on one knee and said calmly, “The hunt was before dawn. I assumed you were asleep.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep since Christopher said what he did. It was horrid, Brandon.Horrid.” Huge tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, reddening her nose. Lucy had never been a pretty crier.
Bran pulled his handkerchief from a pocket and offered it to her. “Lucy, I am here now.” He kept his voice low and controlled. “What has His Grace done to set you in such a tizzy?”
Lucy lowered the handkerchief and visibly struggled to regain control of herself. “He says... he is going to marry anactress.”
For a second, Bran didn’t think he’d heard her correctly.
At his silence, she elaborated, “He has met anactressand he vows that she is the woman he has been searching for. The one he must have. He claims his heart is set afire for her.”
Bran rose, not trusting himself to speak immediately. He pulled a straight-backed chair over to his sister’s and sat. “An actress,” he repeated.
Lucy nodded her head enthusiastically, causing the black ribbons in her cap to bounce.
“You have been sending messengers and tracking me down while I was trying to prepare for the most important meeting of my life because Christopher is taken with an actress?”
“Not just ‘taken.’ He wants to make herhis duchess.”
She sounded so sincere.
And suddenly all Bran could do was laugh. A good, hearty, well-isn’t-this-life laugh. Her offended stare brought him to his senses. “Lucy, he is almost one and twenty. Of course he wants an actress. We all do at one time or the other.”
She shook her head. “Not a mereflirtation. He informed me he plans onmarryingthis woman.”
“He won’t.”
“He said he will.”
“Lucy, he’s twenty. He says a good number of things he won’t carry out.”
“You should have seen him, Brandon. It was as if he’d grown into a man as he was telling me all of this.”
Bran gave an indifferent shrug. “He still has plenty of manly growing to do. An actress might help him with that.”
Her brows snapped together. “I don’t want her near my son.”
