The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)

Sebastian shrugged. “I am precisely the person I would choose for such an honor, were I you. I applaud your good sense.”


Robert didn’t bother to try to work out what Sebastian meant by that. There was a moment—a very short moment—when Robert felt he might have hugged the two of them. He almost wanted to do it—to reach out and grab them and hold them close. They’d been there for him through the hardest moments in his life—his father’s funeral, the days that followed as he went through his father’s effects and discovered that the man had been even worse than he’d imagined…

In lieu of an embrace, he simply folded his arms. “It would mean a great deal to me.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, turning away from Robert, “you know what this means, Oliver. The two of us must now organize a wild, debauched party for Robert on the eve of his leg-shackling.” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

Oliver met his gaze calmly. “Wild,” he repeated. “Debauched. I am in complete agreement.”

Robert felt a hint of apprehension. “You know,” he said, “this is very kind, but not necessary.”

They ignored him, facing one another.

“Well, you know. Fit the punishment to the criminal, and all that sort of thing. It is Robert, after all.” Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, mussing it. “Now what will we do for women?”

“Really,” Robert said a little more forcefully. “I know I’ve not yet said my wedding vows, but I must insist that…”

But they weren’t paying him any attention. “I know just the thing,” Oliver said, brightening. “Mary Wollstonecraft. I have a copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Women in my room—I’ll be sure to bring that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian said, rubbing his hands together. “And there’s this letter I received by this curious woman from the United States—one Antoinette Brown. She wrote the most extraordinary things about evolution and women’s rights. I’ll bring that.”

“I have a pamphlet by Emily Davies.”

Robert’s lips twisted upward despite himself.

“I was thinking I could bring a copy of Thomas Payne,” Oliver said, “but that would make our numbers uneven.”

“Violet,” Sebastian said, with a wave of his hand. “She can be surprisingly handy in an argument.”

“Ah, I suppose she’ll do in a pinch.” Oliver stood, and set his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Let nobody say that the Brothers Sinister have no idea how to be depraved.”

“There shall be brandy!” Sebastian stood. “And we shall even drink it, although Robert will stop after two glasses because he always does.”

“There will be food!” Oliver declaimed, mirroring Sebastian’s stance. “And we shan’t drink that, because then we would choke.”

Sebastian grinned. “On the eve of your wedding, Robert, we shall offer you the sorts of female delights that you have always lusted after. Philosophical tracts upon philosophical tracts, all of them advocating political change that would result in an upheaval of the current social order. We shall set forth their essays, and then…” He paused, as if for dramatic emphasis. “Then, my friends, we shall argue about them!”

Robert smiled and looked away. “You two will be the death of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m not that bad.”

“Speaking of which,” Oliver said. His face went momentarily solemn. “Your wedding. Your father is no longer with us, and your mother does not…ah, does not always know her duties. I thought perhaps we might offer to help.”

Beside him, Sebastian nodded.

And here Robert thought that he’d considered everything already. He’d already decided on a wedding gift. He’d sent to London for attorneys to manage the settlements. But it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had missed something. There was so much about the notion of family that he simply didn’t know. “Help with…?”

Oliver leaned forward. “It’s about the wedding night,” he said earnestly. “About what happens on it. You need to know.” He lowered his voice dramatically. “When a man and a woman love each other, they come together in a very special way.”

Robert jabbed his brother with an elbow. “You,” he said, “are terrible.” But he was smiling, and he couldn’t stop.

“So.”

MINNIE LOOKED UP FROM HER BREAKFAST the next morning, just in time to see the Duchess of Clermont in the doorway.

Great-Aunt Caro began to struggle to her feet; Eliza had already jumped up. A maid trailed the other woman, wringing her hands ineffectually and trying to convey silent apologies for the intrusion.

But the duchess didn’t look at those other women. Her gaze fixed on Minnie.

“You’re marrying my son in three days. You know it will be a complete disaster.”