Daring To Love The Duke's Heir. Janice Preston

urge to laugh which he manfully resisted.

      ‘I am Avon. Please be seated.’ He gestured to the place on the sofa he had recently vacated. ‘Your sister and I were about to discuss the reason for this visit. Ah, Betty, Thomas, thank you.’ A maid had come in with a dish of macaroons, followed by another footman carrying a tray bearing a bottle of Madeira and three glasses. ‘Please be good enough to pour the wine, Thomas. Betty—will you sit by the window once you have served our visitors? You may remain until our visitors leave. Thank you.’

      Liberty glowered at him, clearly irritated by the implication that her motives for this visit might differ from her stated reason. But, from a young age, Dominic had known his duty was to choose a suitable, well-brought-up lady as his future Duchess and it was now second nature to avoid any risk of getting trapped into an unsuitable alliance through carelessness.

      Hope had now settled next to Liberty on the sofa and so Dominic moved to stand by the fireplace while he waited for the wine to be served.

      ‘So. To continue with the reason for your visit, Miss Lovejoy—you lay the blame for your brother’s wayward behaviour at the door of my brother?’

      She raised her gaze from the contemplation of her glass. ‘Yes.’ She bit delicately into a macaroon.

      Dominic frowned at her brusque reply.

      ‘Why?’ Two could play at that game.

      The pink tip of her tongue as it rescued stray crumbs from her lips did strange things to Dominic’s pulse rate. Irritated, he willed his body under control. Simple lust—not difficult for a man like him to resist. Yet he could not tear his gaze from her mouth as she chewed in a leisurely fashion, her fine tawny brows drawn together in a frown of concentration.

      ‘Gideon has never been on the town before,’ she said eventually. ‘He is a...a...greenhead, I think is the word. He is being led astray by your brother, who appears intent on introducing him to every vice known to man.’

      I sincerely hope not. Reading the earnestness of Liberty’s expression, Dominic doubted she had the first idea of the full extent of the vices available in London to eager young bucks with money to burn. But he trusted Alex not to return to his past reckless behaviour. Didn’t he? He made a mental note to check up on his brother’s activities. If he felt Alex was in danger of sliding back into his old, wild ways, he would nip that in the bud before their father and stepmother came up to town.

      ‘I am sure Alex is simply helping your brother to find his feet in town,’ he said. ‘I fail to understand why you feel he needs your protection. What would he say if he knew you had come here to speak to my father?’

      Liberty’s cheeks bloomed red. ‘He would object, of course.’

      She was honest, at least. His opinion lifted another degree.

      ‘Then you will do well to allow him to determine his own path. No man would take kindly to his sister trying to control him. I presume you are older than him?’

      ‘We are twins but, yes, I am the elder.’

      ‘Twins? No wonder he objects to your interference. Heed my advice, Miss Lovejoy, and allow your brother to be his own man.’

      Her lips parted as she inhaled. Her breasts rose, drawing Dominic’s gaze like a lodestone. His pulse quickened and his cravat suddenly felt too tight. The room too warm. He swallowed down his reaction even as he acknowledged that Liberty Lovejoy’s natural, curvaceous femininity was more attractive to him than any of the painstakingly elegant ladies of the ton. He could never act upon such attraction, however—as the sister of an earl and a lady, she was off limits other than for marriage. And she was definitely not marriageable material. Not for him.

      He had sworn at his mother’s death, when he was eight years old, that he would do his duty and make her proud of him.

       Never forget, Avon—you will be the Duke one day. You must never bring your heritage into disrepute. Make me proud, my Son.

      He’d spent his life striving to fulfil her expectations. He had never felt good enough for her while she was alive—other than that one hint of affection he had glimpsed from her, on the day she died—but now, this Season, he would finally prove to her that he was worthy. Besides, it was what was expected of a man in his position, and he owed his father that much, too. His bride must be perfect in every way: bloodlines, upbringing, behaviour.

      And Liberty Lovejoy fitted none of those requirements. Not one.

      Unsettled and irritated by his visceral reaction to this woman Dominic lowered his gaze to where her hands were gripped together in her lap, her kid gloves stretched taut over her knuckles. He choked back his exasperation. It was not Liberty’s fault he found her so...enticing. Her distress at her brother’s behaviour was tangible and the urge to comfort her took him by surprise. He softened his tone.

      ‘What your brother is doing is not so very unusual, Miss Lovejoy. Most young men on the town for the first time behave somewhat recklessly. But they soon settle down and I am convinced your brother will, too.’

      ‘But I must stop him before he squanders his entire inheritance.’

      ‘Are his debts so very ruinous?’ He would have thought Wendover’s estates were wealthy enough, even after the disaster of last year’s harvest.

      Liberty’s lips pursed.

      ‘I am certain you are right, my lord.’ Hope smiled at Dominic and fluttered her lashes. ‘As you might guess, my sister does have an unfortunate tendency to imagine the worst. We do not know the scale of his debts as Gideon, quite rightly—’ she cast a quelling look at her sister ‘—refuses to discuss—’

      ‘He is out until all hours and sometimes he does not come home at all.’

      The words burst from Miss Lovejoy as she swept her hand through her hair, scattering hairpins and leaving bits of hair the hue of dark honey sticking out sideways from her scalp. Two locks unwound to drape unnoticed over her shoulder.

      ‘And when he does, he is so...so distant. So secretive.’ Her voice rang with despair. ‘We have always shared everything, but he will not confide in me...the tradesmen haven’t been paid...there is a stack of bills awaiting his attention, yet when I begged him to pay them, all he would say is that he must pay his gambling debts first as a matter of honour. He lost two hundred pounds at hazard last night. Two hundred!’

      Her horror at such a loss was clear, but her words convinced Dominic that she was worrying over nothing. Her lack of understanding of the ways of the aristocracy was hardly surprising when she had not been raised in such circles.

      ‘That does not sound so very bad to me.’

      ‘Not so very bad? Two hundred pounds?’

      He’d intended to reassure her. Instead she was looking at him as though he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

      ‘Well, no. The Earldom of Wendover is a wealthy one with properties in Buckinghamshire and Suffolk, if I remember rightly. It can stand a few losses at the gaming tables. I am convinced you are worrying over nothing, Miss Lovejoy. You will see. Your brother will eventually settle down.’

      ‘But...the tradesmen. Gideon flatly refuses to pay them. He says they can wait. He never used to be so...so careless of other people, but whenever I remonstrate with him, all he will say is that is how everyone in society carries on.’

      Dominic shrugged. ‘Many do.’

      He did not do that himself. Neither did his father. But he could not deny that many gentlemen considered tradesmen to be at the bottom of the list of debtors to be paid.

      ‘It is your brother’s prerogative to pay the tradesmen who supply your household as and when he chooses, just as it is the tradesmen’s prerogative to cease supplying such late-paying customers if they choose. In my experience, most tradesmen elect to continue enjoying the patronage of their aristocratic clients