Heartless Read Free Page B

heir,” he said. “Ashley may succeed me when I die as I succeeded George.”
    â€œThere is frequently dissension between brothers when the one is the other’s heir,” Lord Quinn said.
    â€œAs there was between George and me?” Luke fanned his face slowly. “But it was not because I was his heir, Theo. And until he was four-and-twenty and I twenty, we were the best of friends. I never remember coveting the title despite what must have been said afterward. There was one specific cause of our quarrel. I very near killed him, did I not? One inch lower, the physician said. One inch. I was a poor shot in those days.” There was coldness, almost bitterness in his voice.
    â€œThis is spring,” Lord Quinn said. “The time when almost the whole of the fashionable world is in town, Luke. The perfect time for selecting a bride eligible for a duke’s bed.”
    â€˜This duke is not in search of a life’s partner,” Luke said. “The very thought is enough to make me shudder.” He shuddered rather theatrically to prove his point.
    â€œYou may wish to consider it, nevertheless, after I have taken my leave,” Lord Quinn said, getting to his feet and stretching. “’Tis time, my lad.”
    â€œAnd yet,” Luke said, “you are almost twenty years my senior, Theo, but it has never been time for you? You have retained your bachelorhood into the fifth decade of your life.”
    His uncle chuckled. “I had the misfortune to fall in love with a married lady,” he said. “By the time she was widowed it was too late to get my heirs on her anyway. Or perhaps it was not too late, who knows? No matter. I am a mere baron. And I do not have a passel of unruly relatives breathing down my neck.”
    â€œAnd I do?” Luke said, closing his fan and getting to his feet to see his uncle on his way. “They must be taught, Theo, that ’tis not to be tolerated. No one breathes down my neck unless she is specifically invited to do so.”
    His uncle laughed heartily once more. “Take a wife, Luke,” he said. “Egad, ’twill be the answer for you. Take my word on it. And get sons on her as fast as it may be done. I will keep my eyes open and see who is available this year. I will choose you the prettiest, lad, provided she has the rank and breeding to go along with her looks.”
    â€œThank you, my dear,” his nephew said languidly, following Lord Quinn into the hall, “but I make it a habit to choose my own bedfellows. And truly, rarely for more than three months at a time.” He grimaced as a footman stepped forward to open the outer door. “Must you ram your hat on your head as if to glue it to your wig? Did you not know that hats are not meant to be worn on the head but to be carried decoratively beneath the arm?”
    His uncle threw back his head and guffawed inelegantly. “Pox on your French ways,” he said. “You are living in an English climate now, my lad, where a hat is not an ornament but a head warmer.”
    â€œHeaven forbid!” the duke said fervently. He turned back to the library as the door closed behind his uncle.
    A bride. He had never seriously considered taking one even though he was thirty years old and had unexpectedly been elevated to high rank on the death of his brother two years ago, only three years after the death of their father. At least, he had not considered taking a wife since ten years ago. He did not particularly want to think about that.
    Marriage was not for him. Marriage meant commitment. It meant belonging to someone and having someone belong to him. It meant children and the ties they would bring. It meant being bound, body and soul. It meant being vulnerable—again.
    He was not vulnerable now. He had spent ten years—well, nine anyway, if he remembered that for that first year he had whined and pleaded and then staggered into a life of wild,