found himself scrutinised by a pair of intelligent, almond-shaped eyes. They were extraordinary and he found himself being drawn into their depths. They were the dark blue of the summer sky at midnight, with golden flecks in the irises and fringed with thick golden-brown lashes. Tawny brows drew together in a frown and her lips, soft pink and lush, compressed. He waited for her reply, controlling his visceral reaction to Miss Liberty Lovejoy. He was well practised in that art—his position as heir to a wealthy dukedom as well as his honour as a gentleman meant he simply did not indulge in idle flirtations.
‘Your brother is tempting my brother into entirely inappropriate and wild behaviour and I came here to dem—beg your father to stop your brother from leading Gideon astray.’
Her velvety eyes glowed with fervour and he didn’t doubt her genuine concern. His heart sank at the news that Alex might be falling back into his old, wild ways. He had already heard tales circulating about the newly ennobled Lord Wendover and his readiness to sample every entertainment available to a young, wealthy man about town, but Alex’s name hadn’t arisen in connection with them. The last he had heard, Alex was living at Foxbourne Manor in Berkshire and making a success of his horse breeding and training establishment—gaining a reputation for providing high-quality riding and carriage horses.
‘Please be seated, Miss Lovejoy.’ Dominic indicated a chair by the fireplace.
With a swish of her skirts, she settled on the sofa. Mentally, he shrugged. He would allow her that small victory. He studied his visitor as he strolled across to sit by her side—his scrutiny, his pace and his choice of seat specifically intended to ruffle her feathers. A man had to have some fun, after all.
Her gown looked new, but was outmoded by a few years, with its high neck and ruff of triple lace, and he couldn’t help but notice how beautifully it clung to her curves. His pulse kicked, but Dominic controlled his surge of desire for this voluptuous woman. He prided himself on his self-control. In every area of his life. He sat, half-facing her, noting the crease of a frown between her tawny eyebrows and the tension in the lines around her mouth.
‘I trust you have no objection to my sitting next to you?’
He allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up and was rewarded by Liberty’s subtle but unmistakable shift along the sofa, increasing the distance between them. The faint scent of roses drifted into his awareness—the scent of his late mother, remembered from his childhood—and all thought of teasing Miss Liberty Lovejoy vanished, swamped by a swirl of memories.
His mother had been on his mind more and more lately—ever since he had decided that this was the Season he would choose a wife. It was time to marry. Time to produce an heir. Time to fulfil the vow he had made all those years ago after his mother had died. He straightened, rolling his shoulders back. The sooner he addressed Miss Lovejoy’s concerns, the sooner he could get on with compiling a list of candidates suitable for his bride.
‘Tell me why you believe Alexander to be in any way responsible for your own brother’s behaviour,’ he said. ‘Is he not his own man?’
She drew in a sharp breath but, before she could reply, William appeared in the open doorway.
‘Miss Hope Lovejoy, milord,’ he said.
Dominic stood. A young lady bearing a familial resemblance to Liberty Lovejoy entered the room, her cheeks blooming a becoming shade of pink. Out of habit, Dominic registered her appearance with one sweeping glance. Pretty. Golden-haired. Delicate features. Taller than her sister, with a trim figure, enhanced by the latest fashions. He couldn’t resist glancing once again at Liberty and making comparisons. No. He wasn’t mistaken. It would appear Liberty was a woman prepared to make personal sacrifices to ensure her younger sibling enjoyed every advantage. Was it that same trait that had driven her to come here and confront his father? That took some courage. His opinion of Liberty Lovejoy rose. Just a notch.
He bowed to Hope and directed his most charming smile at her, fully aware it would further vex the still-smouldering Liberty. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Lovejoy.’
Hope would prove popular with the gentlemen of the ton, he had no doubt. And she was fully aware of the effect of her beauty upon members of the opposite sex, he realised, as she rewarded him with a coquettish smile and a swift, appraising glance through her long lashes. A poorly stifled hmmph from Liberty reached Dominic’s ears, stirring another 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
