at a loss, are you, Robin?’ Charlie frowned. ‘But I won’t have you upsetting our mother. I’ll talk to Father. Convince him somehow. It’s going to cost a lot of money and if I do this you have to swear to mend your ways.’
Ice filled Robert’s veins. He wanted to smack the disapproving look off his brother’s face. ‘What makes you a saint?’
Charlie gave him a pained look. ‘I’m not.’
‘I don’t suppose you could lend me a pony until quarter day. I’ve some debts pressing.’ Inwardly, he groaned. At least one of which was Lullington’s. Not to mention a diamond pin to present to Maggie.
‘Damn it, Robert.’ He got up and went to a chest in the corner. He unlocked it and pulled out a leather purse. ‘Fifty guineas. If that’s not enough I can give you a draft for up to a thousand. But that’s all.’
‘A thousand?’ Robert whistled. ‘You really are dibs in tune.’
‘I don’t have time to spend it.’ He looked weary, weighed down. Robert didn’t envy him his position of heir one little bit.
Sure his problems were solved, Robert grinned. ‘You need a holiday from all this.’ He waved a hand at the cluttered desk. ‘Want to exchange places again?’
‘You will not,’ a voice thundered. ‘And nor will you give him any money.’
Father. Robert whipped his head around. The brown-eyed silver-haired gentleman framed in the doorway in sartorial splendour glared as Robert rose to his feet. Rigid with anger and pride, Alfred, his Grace the Duke of Stantford, locked his gaze on Charlie. ‘He has brought dishonour to our name. He is no longer welcome in my house.’
Robert felt the blood drain from his face, from his whole body. He couldn’t draw breath as the words echoed in his head. While he and Father didn’t always see eye to eye, he’d never expected this.
Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Father, it is not entirely Robert’s fault.’
Mealy-mouthed support at best, but then that was Charlie these days. ‘The woman—’
‘Enough,’ Father roared. ‘I heard you. You are not satisfied with being a parasite on this family, a dissolute wastrel and a libertine. No. It’s not enough that you drag our name through the mud. You want your brother’s title.’
The taste of ashes filled Robert’s mouth. ‘Your Grace, no,’ he choked out, ‘it was a jest.’
Stantford’s lip curled, but beneath the bluster he seemed to age from sixty to a hundred in the space a heartbeat. In his eyes, Robert saw fear.
‘You think I don’t know what you are about?’ the old man whispered. ‘An identical brother? I always knew you’d be trouble. You almost succeeded in getting him killed once, but I won’t let it happen again.’
Nausea rolled in Robert’s gut. The room spun as pain seared his heart. ‘I would never harm my brother.’
‘Father,’ Charlie said. ‘I wanted to join the army. I convinced Robert to take my place.’
The duke’s lip curled. ‘I expected he needed a lot of convincing.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Robert said. ‘I thought it was a great lark. How would I know what a mess Waterloo would be? Napoleon was a defeated general.’
They’d all thought that and Charlie, desperate to join the army from the time he could talk, saw it as a chance to fulfil his dream despite Father’s refusal.
Robert had avoided the family while he played at being Charlie for weeks before Waterloo. Had a grand old time. Until he’d felt Charlie’s physical pain in his own body. He’d known something was wrong. But when the lists came out announcing Robert Mountford’s death and the family started to grieve, they thought he’d gone mad. He’d insisted on going to the site of the battle. When he finally found Charlie, one of the many robbed of his clothes and out of his head in a fever, the truth had to come out. After that, Father had refused to have anything to do with Robert. Until today.
‘You are not my son,’ the duke said.
Charlie stared at Father. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘You are going too far. I won’t let you do this. Robert will marry the girl. Won’t you?’
Reeling, Robert almost said yes. His spine stiffened. He would not be blackmailed, forced into a mould by his father or anyone else, especially not Miss Penelope Frisken. ‘No. I did not seduce her and I won’t accept the blame.’
‘You idiot,’ Charlie hissed.
‘I want that cur out of my house,’ the duke commanded. ‘I won’t see the name of Mountford blackened any further by this wastrel. He’ll sponge on me no longer.’
Sponge. Was that how he saw it? Without his allowance, he wouldn’t be able to pay his debts. Any of them. He had debts of honour due on quarter day, as well as several tradesmen expecting their due. He’d gone a little deeper than he should have this month, but then he’d expected to come about. And there was always his allowance.
‘You can’t do this.’
His father glared. ‘Watch me.’
A horrid suspicion crept into his mind. Was this Lulling ton’s plan all along? He was clever enough. Devious enough.
How else had the information about what had happened at White’s reached the duke so quickly? Now Father had the perfect opportunity to be rid of the cuckoo in his nest.
He’d always been inclined to laugh off matters others thought important, but when Charlie had almost died on the battlefield at Waterloo, he knew he should have thought it out a bit more carefully. He never expected this as the end result, though, and he wasn’t going to beg forgiveness for something he hadn’t done.
His stomach churned. He gulped down his bile and drew himself up straight. His face impassive, he stared at his rigid father. ‘As you wish, your Grace. You will never have to set eyes on me again, but first I would like a few minutes alone with Lord Tonbridge.’
The duke didn’t glance in Robert’s direction, addressing himself only to Charlie. ‘There’s nothing for him here. No one is giving him money. I mean that, Ton-bridge. Tell him to be out of my house in five minutes or I will have him horsewhipped.’ He wheeled around and shut the door behind him.
Charlie fixed his tortured gaze on Robert’s face. ‘I’ll talk to him. I had no idea his anger went so deep.’
Robert tried to smile. ‘If you try to defend me, it will only make things worse. He’s suspicious enough. He’ll think I have some hold on you. Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll find work.’
At that Charlie cracked a painful laugh. ‘What will you do? Find a woman to employ your services in bed?’
Robert’s hand curled into a fist. He smiled, though it made his cheeks ache. ‘Well now, there is an idea. Any thoughts of who? Your betrothed, perhaps?’
Colour
