Invitation by Burke, Darcy (book club reads txt) 📗

his almost entirely gray head tipping toward the hunting portrait. “I see you’re observing the new painting. Magnificent, isn’t it?”

Exchanging a dubious look with his brother, Lucien didn’t respond, while Con said, “Quite.”

While Lucien and his father were dark-eyed and dark-haired—the duke’s hair had once been sable—Con was a lighter version of them. With tawny brown hair and green-brown eyes, he’d inherited their mother’s classic bone structure. He was also quieter, as she had been, leaving Lucien and the duke to butt heads.

“Is that why you invited us today?” Lucien walked to a chair and sat down, extending his legs out in front of him. “To fawn over your portrait?” He kept his gaze fixed on the duke.

“No. Aldington didn’t tell you the purpose?” The duke used Con’s courtesy title. As a young boy, Lucien had found it too long and cumbersome to say, so he’d called his brother Con. Their sister Cass had done the same thing.

Con, dressed impeccably in somber colors and a pristinely white cravat, briefly massaged the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t. Lucien only just arrived, Father.” Exhaling, Con pivoted to face his brother. “I’m to be wed.” His gaze flicked to their father, ever seeking his approval. That right there told Lucien everything, that Con was doing his duty and nothing more.

Lucien wished that surprised him. Instead, it just made him sad. “Your joy is wonderfully evident,” he cracked. “Who is the lucky lady?”

“Lady Sabrina Kidd.” Con didn’t even sound enthused.

“Bloody hell, man, can’t you muster a modicum of emotion?” Lucien asked.

Con scowled at him. “I’m very much looking forward to marrying her. She’ll make an excellent duchess. At some point in the future.”

Yes, that was all that mattered, that Con choose someone worthy of being a duchess. Emotion—love, passion, even like—had nothing to do with it. “Do you even realize you’re frowning?” Lucien asked.

Con repositioned his body toward their father once more so that Lucien could only see him in profile. It was still evident, however, that Con was making an effort to at least look…not pained.

Poor Lady Sabrina.

Lucien had met her. Hell, he may have even danced with her at one point. He tried to summon Lady Sabrina in her mind. She was blonde, perhaps? A bit taller than average? Honestly, he couldn’t recall her. He fixed Con with a probing stare. “What is it about her that provoked you to marriage?”

Again, Con darted a look toward their father, and it was all Lucien could do not to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him until something inside him gave way. “She’s demure and kind, excellent at the pianoforte.” He paused, and Lucien folded his arms expectantly. “She, ah, likes dogs,” Con added. “And she’s the daughter of the Viscount Tarleton.”

“Oh, well, that seals it, then.” Lucien uncrossed his arms and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If his brother were to wed, Lucien wanted him to do it because he wanted to, not because their father had demanded it. But Con had always bowed to their father’s wishes. As the duke said—and Con parroted—it was the duty of the heir to do as he must, not as he chose. Lucien should have done more to push his brother into some semblance of freedom. The man should have at least chosen his own bloody wife. Alas, here they were. “My deepest congratulations for your wedded bliss.” Lucien stood, grateful for the short interview.

“Sit.” The duke leveled his signature commanding stare at Lucien. Though he was no longer intimidated by his father, Lucien always chose the path of least resistance with him. So he sat back down.

Father clasped his hands atop his desk. “Now that Aldington is to wed, you will need to do the same.”

“Someday, I shall.” It was nowhere in any of Lucien’s current plans nor would it be.

“Not someday. Soon. I won’t force you.” As if he could. “My hope is that you will do so by the end of next Season. If you’d like a list of acceptable young ladies, including those who are not yet out but will be next year, I’ll provide one.” What was it with fathers and bride lists?

Lucien summoned a placid expression. “Is that what you did for Con?” He sent a pitying look toward his brother. “I’m sure I can manage.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I would prefer to have input into your choice, but I daresay you won’t allow me that fatherly duty.” He sniffed in a weak attempt at appearing offended.

It wasn’t a bloody duty to meddle in your son’s, especially your second son’s, marital affairs.

“No, I will not. It isn’t your duty to choose my wife, or Con’s.” Lucien glared toward his brother. “Dammit, Con, why do you let him control everything?”

Con’s answering stare was frigid. “I don’t. You seem to think I don’t make decisions for myself, but I do. Just because you don’t agree with them doesn’t mean they’re wrong. For a younger brother, you are annoyingly meddlesome.”

Stung, Lucien sat back in his chair and blew out a breath. Was he no better than their father, trying to manage Con? Was Lucien’s irritation at Con’s impending marriage to do with Con at all, or was it due to the fact that their father’s focus would now shift completely to Lucien? The pressure to wed would be applied most vociferously.

“I shall do my best to select someone acceptable,” Lucien responded, though he was thinking he’d do just the opposite to spite him.

The duke’s answering expression was one of heavy skepticism. “What’s important for now is that you mend your libidinous ways. Your reputation requires rehabilitation if you hope to make the best possible marriage.”

Lucien wiped his hand over his face, thoroughly weary of this interview. “I served under Wellington and received a medal. What more could I do to improve my reputation?”

“Stop gallivanting about town with your unending parade of mistresses. Stop spending so much time in gaming hells. Attend more Society events. And most