The Love of a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #3)(6)

“You are to earn your allowance.”

He froze half out of his chair and then reclaimed his seat. “I beg your pardon?” he gritted the question out past clenched teeth.

“Earn,” his brother carried on. “As in work to acquire something. It comes as no surprise that you should fail to grasp the meaning of that important word.”

Alex gripped the leather arms to keep from dragging his smug brother across the desk and planting him a well-deserved facer. Yes, Gabriel had become far better at this baiting business than he’d have ever credited. “And just what will I have to do to—?”

“A chaperone.”

He angled his head, giving a look about for this mysteriously appearing chaperone.

“You are to act as chaperone for Chloe.”

A laugh exploded from his chest. “Surely you j-jest.” He shook with the force of his amusement. His brother still had traces of the humor he’d once possessed. Well, this was a good deal more reassuring than the unpleasant alternative that he’d become, God forbid…their father. Alex yanked a crisp kerchief from the front of his jacket and dabbed at the tears of mirth in his eyes then looked at Gabriel.

His brother fixed a black glower on him. Well, rot. He’d not been jesting. Alex stuffed away his kerchief, amusement fading.

His brother continued. “Chloe requires chaperoning.”

He groaned. He’d task him with squiring his sister about to dull, polite, and proper ton events?

Gabriel continued his reasoning. “With Mother in the country with Philippa during her confinement, Chloe needs to be escorted about the ton.”

A shudder wracked Alex’s frame. He’d made it a point to avoid those boring pastimes for nearly ten years now. Perhaps he’d try reasoning with Gabriel. After all, the other man had always been the practical…well, reasonable one. “Surely you recognize the folly in me,” he splayed his hands, “chaperoning our youngest sister. You are by far the better man for the ta…” His brother narrowed his eyes even more. Christ. “Er…for the taking her about town bit,” he cleverly substituted.

Gabriel drummed his fingers on his seat. “I have taken her about town.” He held a finger up. “More precisely, I’ve taken Chloe and Philippa about. It is because of me that Philippa has been properly wed.” To Lord Winston, a stodgy bore who didn’t smile enough in Alex’s estimation. “You should consider yourself fortunate you’ve just the one to chaperone.”

He’d wager the lifetime’s worth of his allowance that not a single peer in the realm would affix the title “chaperone” to his given name.

“Since there is nothing of value you contribute to the family,” his brother spoke in effortless disparagement, “this is something you can do.” That handful of words was more than just a little condescending in the aspersions they cast upon his character.

Filled with restiveness, Alex shoved to his feet. “Bah, this isn’t about proving my worth.” He made for the other man’s sideboard in desperate need of liquid fortitude. He swiped the nearest bottle and a glass then poured himself a stiff brandy. “This is about you shifting your responsibilities.” He held the glass up in salute and then took a long swallow.

Gabriel’s gaze grew shuttered once more and Alex knew, with that slight raising of his glass and the impulsive words he’d tossed at his brother’s smug face, he’d gone and shattered any hope of being relieved of this task. “If you can manage to find some scrap of decency in you, you’ll know I have never shifted responsibilities.”

“Unlike me?”

His brother lounged in his chair, as though bored by the whole discourse. “You refused a position in the clergy,” he pointed out.

He, Lord Alex Edgerton of the cloth? Alex gave his head a rueful shake. The devil would have danced in delight with the hilarity of it.

Taking Alex’s silence for an invitation to continue presenting his case, Gabriel added, “Nor were you interested in a commission in the King’s army.”

Alex swirled the contents of his glass, stoically silent. He quite enjoyed life and hadn’t relished the prospect of marching to the beat of a drum, potentially risking life and limb…and his visual appeal. After all, that was really all he had to contribute to Society. Not much of a contribution, but there you had it. Boney’s eventual takeover of the Continent had proven his remarkable foresight.

An exasperated sigh escaped his brother, proving silence to be the most effective strategy in handling Gabriel when he was on one of his lectures. “You may resume your shiftless life, drinking yourself into oblivion and whoremongering…”

Alex enjoyed the pleasures to be found in a woman’s arms “Whoremongerer, am I?” he said with droll humor in his tone. Other than the eager widows, he didn’t dally with respectable ladies. Long ago he’d learned societal ladies in the market for a husband had little use for a second son. No, he would not open himself up to hurt in giving any more of himself; not when life had taught him the perils in hoping for love—from anyone.

“When Chloe is wed,” his brother went on. “When she is married, then you’ll be free to live your purposeless life.” He gave a flick of his hand and dragged forth a ledger. With precise, methodical movements, the other man flipped it open, picked up his pen, and proceeded to work.