Never Deceive a Duke Read Online Free PDF Page A

sideboard. “The Marquess of Nash, I mean. You take precedence, Gareth, over your competition. I find that rich.”
    “Oh, I quit competing years ago.” Gareth’s tone was suddenly grim. “And we celebrated a marriage this morning, you will recall.”
    “Yes, only too well.” Pensively, Rothewell swirled the brandy in the glass, then handed it to his guest. “You have lost the object of your youthful infatuation, Gareth, but I…well, I do not deceive myself. I have lost a sister. You think it not at all the same, I do not doubt. But when you have been left alone as the three of us were—Luke, Zee, and I—with no one else to depend upon, you forge a bond which is not easily explained.”
    Gareth was quiet for a moment. “Luke is gone, but you have never been without Xanthia, have you?”
    Rothewell shook his head. “Indeed, I remember the very day she was born.” His voice caught a little on the last word. “Ah, but enough maudlin sentiment for one day. What is it to be for you, Gareth? Must I set about dragging you off to do your duty?”
    “You refer to the dukedom, I collect.” Gareth’s voice was emotionless. “No, I promised Zee I would be at Neville Shipping every day until her return. I won’t leave you in the lurch.”
    “I never imagined you would,” murmured Rothewell. “Since the day my brother hired you as his errand boy, you have been the one we all depended upon. It was for that reason—and to keep the competition from stealing you, of course—that we entered into this joint ownership venture.”
    Gareth’s smile was muted. “Shackled me with golden chains, eh?”
    “Bloody well right.” The baron swallowed another sip of brandy, his muscular throat working up and down like a well-oiled machine. “And now you mean to uphold your end of the bargain. I respect that. However, whilst your share of Neville Shipping has left you quite wealthy, it can hardly compare to the wealth you have apparently inherited.”
    “What is your point?” Gareth’s words came out more sharply than he’d intended.
    “Perhaps you are watching the wrong pot boil.” Rothewell had begun to roam restlessly about the room with his glass in hand. “Far be it from me to lecture a man on duty and responsibility, but I strongly suggest you go down to—to—what was it called again?”
    “Selsdon Court.”
    “Ah, yes, Selsdon Court,” Rothewell echoed. “How very grand it sounds.”
    “It is. Obscenely so.”
    “Well, obscene or not, it is yours now. Perhaps you ought to go attend to it. It is not far, is it?”
    Gareth lifted one shoulder. “Half a day’s drive, perhaps,” he said. “Or one can take the Croydon Canal down from Deptford.”
    “Half a day?” said Rothewell incredulously. “That is nothing. Go attend to the matters which are pressing, and pay your condolences to the black widow—those are Zee’s words, by the way, not mine.”
    Gareth grunted. “The duchess is a coldhearted bitch, all right,” he said. “But a murderess? I rather doubt it. She would not risk being ruined in the eyes of society.”
    Rothewell looked at him strangely. “What is she like?”
    Gareth cut his gaze away. “Supremely haughty,” he murmured. “But not overtly cruel. She had her husband for that.”
    “I wonder if she has been left a wealthy widow?”
    “There is no doubt,” said Gareth. “Warneham was disgustingly rich. Her family would have seen to generous settlements.”
    “And yet she awaits you?” murmured Rothewell. “Perhaps you are expected to make some decision with regard to her future?”
    That thought had not occurred to Gareth. For an instant, he let himself wallow in the fantasy of throwing her out into the cold to starve—or worse. But he could take no pleasure in it—indeed, he could scarce imagine it. And surely the choice would not be his?
    “You are considering it?” asked Rothewell.
    Gareth did not answer. He hardly knew. In all the dreadful days which had followed his