twin, Stefan, the current Duke of Huntley, had skin a few shades darker than his brother, Edmond, Lord Summerville. And his shoulders were just a tad broader. A result of the hours spent overseeing his vast farms. Stefan’s features were also a trace more delicate than Edmond’s. Elegant rather than powerful.
The physical differences, however, were nothing in comparison to the differences in personalities.
Edmond had always been a restless soul, or at least he had been until he had wed Brianna Quinn several weeks before, while Stefan was deeply devoted to his estate and the vast number of people who depended upon him. Edmond was charming, swift to anger and frighteningly courageous. He had willingly risked his neck on several occasions during his time as advisor to Alexander Pavlovich.
Stefan, on the other hand, was far more reticent, preferring to remain in the background rather than calling attention to himself. He was also prone to speak the truth rather than offer flattery, which perhaps explained why he was more comfortable in the company of his tenants rather than the aristocrats scattered about the neighborhood.
They both, however, shared a shrewd intelligence and fierce loyalty to each other, as well as those who depended upon them.
It was that loyalty that had brought Edmond to Hillside on this late spring morning.
Strolling through the gardens of Hillside that were being ruthlessly manicured after fifteen years of neglect, he slid a covert glance toward his brother, who was walking silently at his side.
“So, your guest has arrived?” he murmured.
Edmond’s lips twitched; no doubt he easily sensed Stefan’s looming lecture.
“She has.”
Stefan tossed aside any notion of subtlety. It had never been his talent.
“I cannot comprehend why you allow yourself to be taken advantage of by Alexander Pavlovich,” he growled, stepping around a pile of branches that had been cut from the now tidy hedge. “You are not one of his advisors.”
“I have never been an advisor to King George either, but that does not halt him from taking advantage,” Edmond pointed out. “Of either of us.”
Stefan ignored the reminder of King George’s incessant demands. Instead he concentrated on the two women currently entering the garden from the rambling Palladianstyle home.
Brianna was easily recognizable by her vibrant red hair and her swift, rather unladylike stride. In many ways she was as impulsive and reckless as Edmond.
A familiar, fond warmth filled his heart before Stefan was turning his attention to the tiny woman struggling to keep pace with Lady Summerville.
“Is that her?” he demanded.
“Yes. Miss Leonida Karkoff.”
In that moment the woman turned her head and Stefan stumbled to a startled halt.
It was not the female’s beauty.
Well, at least not entirely.
She was lovely. Hair as golden as a morning sunrise, alabaster skin, and a slender form that was currently shown to advantage by her moss-green walking dress that was modestly scooped at the bodice with tiny puff sleeves.
No, it was the unmistakable line of her profile and the potently sweet curve of her lips.
He would bet his last quid her eyes were the color of a summer sky.
“Good God.”
Edmond chuckled. “Lovely, is she not?”
“Lovely, and remarkably familiar.”
“Yes. There is no mistaking her father,” Edmond agreed. “A pity he was already wed to Elizabeth before meeting Leonida’s mother. Nadia would have made a formidable czarina who might have given Alexander Pavlovich the courage he needed to defy the nobles and insist upon the reforms he desired when he was still young.”
“His grandmother would never have allowed him to wed a provincial chit with nothing but beauty and sheer cunning to recommend her.”
Edmond flashed him a wry glance. “Never underestimate a determined woman.”
“Which is why I prefer a more timid female,” Stefan smoothly countered. “Life is much more peaceful.”
Edmond grimaced. “Tedious.”
Stefan returned his attention to the approaching women. “How long does Miss Karkoff intend to linger?”
“She has not revealed her plans.”
No, he did not imagine she had. Or was likely to.
“It hardly makes sense for the Emperor to send her to this remote part of Surrey if he desired her to mix among English society.”
“The London season is at an end.” Edmond’s expression was suddenly sly. “Besides, why toss the lovely Leonida among a crowd of other lovely ladies when she could be the only eligible female within miles of an unwed duke?”
“You think…” Stefan shook his head, not about to fall for such an obvious ploy. “No. Not even Alexander Pavlovich is so lacking in finesse as to blatantly dangle his daughter beneath my nose.”
“Perhaps not, but her mother would.”
“No.”
Edmond arched a raven brow. “Why are you so certain?”
“I am not so isolated that I haven’t heard the usual gossip that trickles from London. From all accounts, the Countess Karkoff has her heart set on nothing less than a prince for her daughter.”
Edmond shrugged. “A wealthy English duke would surely trump a destitute prince from a principality that is little more than a spot on the map.”
“Not if that principality possessed soldiers that Alexander Pavlovich could count loyal to his throne,” Stefan retorted. “I have many things, but no army to lend aid.”
“No, but you do have the ear of the English king. A most powerful ally.”
“A king that has peevishly proclaimed his disapproval toward the Czar.”
Edmond chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. He, better than anyone, understood Stefan’s abhorrence at the thought of being wed for his title.
“Maybe this is Alexander Pavlovich’s attempt to make peace.”
“Then the wench should be in London,” Stefan growled. “I do not doubt she could easily wrap the King about her finger.”
Edmond narrowed his gaze. “Why are you so suspicious of the poor chit?”
“I have not forgotten the last occasion you became involved in Russian affairs.” Stefan frowned. “Both you and Brianna were nearly killed.”
“Hardly Alexander Pavlovich’s fault.”
Stefan
