Innocence in Regency Society. Diane Gaston

      ‘Rightful place?’ Devlin prowled the room. ‘What the deuce is my rightful place?’

      Calmly his brother spoke, ‘You need to assume the control of your estate. It should not fall to our brother Percy, who has enough of his own to oversee.’

      ‘You know I cannot.’ Devlin glared at him. ‘You and my father saw to that. I cannot take control until I marry. I must subsist on what you obligingly provide me until I marry a suitable woman of whom you approve. Good God! What possessed you and my father to contrive that addle-brained plan?’

      ‘You know why.’ Ned spoke in the most reasonable voice possible. ‘You lack control. You have always been devil-may-care. Father had the wisdom to know you would cease your wild ways when you had another person dependent upon you. A wife.’

      ‘Damn it, Ned, would you have me marry merely to get my fortune? Would you have married under that fancy bit of blackmail?’

      At least Devlin had the satisfaction of seeing his brother betray emotion. Ned’s cheek twitched. ‘Leave Serena out of this.’

      Devlin felt a pang of guilt for speaking of his brother’s marriage. He never knew for certain if his brother loved Serena, though he suspected she loved Ned. When he saw Ned and Serena together, there was such a reserve between them, who could tell? Had Ned married her out of duty? Pity Serena, if he had. Their father was behind the match, of course, and Ned would never have gone against their father’s wishes. Two peas in a pod, his brother and father.

      ‘I am not speaking of Serena,’ he said more mildly. ‘I am speaking of myself. I have no desire to marry at the moment, but I am more than ready to assume control of my property. Indeed, I long to run it. Let me take the task from Percy and work the farm. I do not give a damn if the rest of the money is under your thumb.’

      It would be an ideal solution. Bart and Sophie would fit in neatly on the estate. Madeleine and Linette would be a bit more difficult to situate, but he was sure he could contrive something.

      Ned regained his damned composure. ‘Doing so would deprive you of an opportunity to make an advantageous match. The Season has begun and there are all manner of eligible young ladies from whom you may choose.’

      Devlin clenched his fist. ‘I have no desire to marry.’

      Ned rose and walked to the desk by the window. He fussed with papers stacked there, glancing through them, and re-stacking them. Devlin would have liked to think his brother was considering his proposal, but he suspected Ned was simply showing him who was head of the family.

      Ned did not look up from the papers when he spoke. ‘Our father’s wishes will continue to be honoured. You will receive your allotted portion on the quarter, not before. When you marry an acceptable young lady, your estate and your fortune will pass to you, and I will have no more to say of it.’

      Devlin leaned down, putting both hands on the desk, forcing his brother to meet his eyes. ‘Both you and Father were mistaken, Ned. You could at least let me work. As it is, you and our dear departed father have deprived me of any responsibility at all and have kept me as dependent as if I were still a schoolboy. Had I something of value to do, I might have reason to be steady. As it is, I have nothing.’

      ‘You will have everything you desire if you marry.’ Ned spoke through clenched teeth.

      ‘But I do not wish to marry.’

      The two men glared at each other.

      Devlin swung away from his brother. ‘You and Father never trusted me to find my own way. You knew, did you not, that he almost refused to purchase my colours?’ He fingered one of the volumes on the shelf. ‘I would have enlisted as a common foot soldier had he done so. Father could not force me to do anything and neither can you, Ned.’

      ‘You are being foolish, Devlin. This is for your own good. You have always been too wild by half and too wilful to behave with any sense.’

      ‘You dare to say such a thing to me? Do you forget what I have been doing these past years? Do you think I have been on a lark?’

      The Marquess stood. ‘I know it killed our father to have you traipsing all over the continent risking your neck.’

      Devlin shook with rage. ‘Unfair, Ned.’

      ‘You should have been seeing to your duty to the family.’ Ned raised his voice.

      ‘I was seeing to my duty to the family. How well do you think the family would have fared under Napoleon?’ Devlin matched his brother’s volume. ‘Go to the devil, Ned.’

      Ned stepped from behind the desk and faced his brother. ‘Our father worried every day that you would meet your death. Not only during the war, but every day of your sad youth. You have been a rash care-for-nobody and it is past time you became a grown man.’

      Devlin clenched his fists, standing nose to nose with his older brother. ‘I fought for my life before I ever went to war. To be a man means more than following the dictates of a father who thought he could pull a string and have all his bidding done. When will you assume manhood, Ned? Have you ever had a thought of your own?’

      ‘You are addressing the head of the family, little brother.’

      ‘I am addressing my father. You may as well be him, Ned. You always did whatever he said. You and Percy and our sisters. You all blindly did his bidding. If he said jump, you jumped. If he said marry this young lady, you made the offer.’

      ‘Leave Serena out of this!’ Ned’s eyes blazed. He shoved hard against Devlin’s chest.

      Devlin automatically shoved back, his soldier’s reflexes operating. With his greater height, youth, and war-honed strength, he knocked his brother to the floor. ‘Leave me to live my own life! I will choose when and who I marry.’

      ‘Indeed you shall, you insufferable ingrate.’ Ned picked himself off the floor and, to Devlin’s surprise, came at him with a swinging fist that connected smartly to Devlin’s jaw.

      ‘Deuce,’ yelled Devlin, lunging back at him, toppling them both to the floor. They rolled, grunting and punching, knocking down a small table and sending the wine decanter crashing to the floor, red wine splashing.

      ‘Stop this! Stop at once!’ Serena cried from the doorway.

      The two men paid her no heed. On their feet now, they smashed into a bookcase and books rained down from the shelves. Blood dripped from Ned’s nose and Devlin’s coat ripped.

      ‘Barclay! Barclay!’ Serena screamed for the butler as she ran over to her husband and brother-in-law. She pulled on Devlin’s back to get him off Ned.

      ‘Master Devlin. Master Ned.’ A voice of authority seemed to boom directly from their childhood. White-haired Barclay entered the room. ‘You ought to be ashamed.’

      They stopped fighting at once.

      Ned recovered first, dabbing his nose with the lace-edged handkerchief Serena offered him. ‘Thank you, Barclay. We are quite in control again. Your help is no longer necessary.’

      Devlin felt a pain in his stomach that was not the result of a punching fist. How had he wound up brawling with his older brother? He’d seen Percy and Ned in a scrap or two, always carefully kept from their father, but it was unthinkable that he should actually strike this man who’d searched all through the wounded and dying in Brussels until he found his younger brother.

      ‘Ned, I—’

      ‘Enough, Devlin.’ The Marquess folded the handkerchief.

      Serena looked as if she might swoon at any moment, filling Devlin with more guilt. Her face was pale as she righted the toppled table and tried to pick up the glass fragments. How could he have distressed her like this?

      Ned straightened his clothes and brushed himself off. He glanced at his wife. ‘Serena, would you leave us, please?’

      ‘I