Chapter 12
“F or someone who doesn’t lie, you did a particularly good job of it yesterday morning,” Leander pointed out to his soon-to-be brother-in-law.
Tobias raised his dark brows, blinked innocently, and said, “Whatever do you mean?”
It was the oddest expression on a man who was so forthright and so capable. Miller had been a soldier in the revolution and then a publisher and political activist. He’d come to England, and Westleigh had immediately brought him into the fold. He needed strong men like Miller on his side. Men who weren’t afraid to say what needed to be said and who had the capacity to say it to large groups of people.
Miller understood the power of the printing press, as did Leander.
This was, however, an odd turn of events.
He was used to being the puppet master with strings everywhere, maneuvering all those about him. It was the job of a duke who did his work well. Miller, on the other hand, had apparently decided to take a feather from Leander’s cap and give it a go himself.
Leander stared straight-faced at the man. “You do not honestly think you can convince me that you thought your sister was in any sort of actual danger yesterday morning. Can you?”
“Whyever do you say so?” Miller insisted, those eyes still wide. But then his lips twitched. “I was positively shivering with horror.”
“Ha!” Westleigh replied. “I should have known that nothing was actually amiss with her when you did not charge down the stairs half naked to run out and save her. You love her so well. And such is the nature of your honor and devotion to anyone that you care about that you would have charged sans apparel out into the wild with a hoard of bees about your nether regions to ensure that the person you loved was safe. You, on the other hand, turned, went back up the stairs, and insisted you needed to put on breeches. Whatever you are about with me and your sister, you should cease.”
A horse whinnied in the stall next to Leander, as if agreeing with him.
The scent of oats and earth filled the air.
They were about to go out and practice cavalry-style saber engagement, as they often did. It was one of the few things that kept Leander truly sane, along with Hartigan Mulvaney.
The truth was that he should ask Tobias to join him with Mulvaney, but Leander wasn’t entirely certain that Tobias would approve of his bloodthirsty methodology to keep his nerves in order.
No. For now, he’d keep it to himself. Just like his dark spells. People simply didn’t understand.
Doing mad things of this nature, on the other hand, were far better. And seemingly sensible to others.
At least, that’s what he hoped. Hoped that he could keep that particular side of himself away from Miller before he married the man’s sister. He could maybe trot that part out a little bit after the marriage was done, after the union was irreversible. Miller was no fool though. He did know that Westleigh was a bit, well, unhinged, but Miller seemed to admire that aspect of his character, which most English people did not. Leander was grateful for it.
He took up one of the sabers that lined the walls, as did Tobias. They both chose a steed, mounted, and began the ride out from the stable to the paddock that was set up at the back of the house for such practice charges.
“I really take offense at the idea that I am trying to manipulate you in any way,” insisted Miller, though he was clearly mocking Leander now. The American continued, “Surely, I could never do such a thing after such a thing was done to me.”
The duke threw his head back and let out a laugh. “Oh, I see. Turnabout is fair play, is it?”
Miller grinned. “All is fair in love and war, is it not, Your Grace?” he returned.
“Fine, fine,” Leander groaned. “But I do not understand what you are about. You are trying to put the two of us together in a potentially compromising situation—”
“As you did to me and your sister,” Miller pointed out without holding back. “It is simply this, Your Grace. My sister deserves happiness. She’s known little of it. Our life has been one of a great deal of work, of abandonment, of cruelty, harshness, deprivation, and I wouldn’t mind if she had a bit of what you can offer.”
“I’m astonished. You trust me with her?” Westleigh breathed, rather grateful and honored. Some thought the Briarwoods impossible and dangerous, tolerated only because of their wealth and power.
“Should I not?” Miller countered as they rode forward.
“No, you are absolutely right to trust me with her,” Westleigh assured, guiding his horse. “If she is my wife, nothing could stop her, nothing would stand in her way, and I would lay waste to anyone who harmed but a hair upon her head.”
“Exactly,” Miller said with a firm nod. “So why on earth should I object to you?”
“There’s the fact that I’m an aristocrat.”
Miller lifted his hand to his brow and said with the talent of an actor playing a character about to face martyrdom, “There are things that cannot be helped. I do not think that you should eschew your title. You do too much good work with it. And while I have no wish to see dukes in the United States of America, dukes are the rule of the day in Europe, and Europe needs change. What’s happening in France right now is absolutely appalling.”
Westleigh scowled.
There was no argument there. France this summer was one hell of a dangerous place to be, and he wished to God his littlest brother would come away from it. But it didn’t matter how many letters he wrote, the young idiot would not exit the country that seemed on the brink.
The lad kept thinking he could do some good there. Leander swallowed.
“You haven’t heard anything about my brother?” Westleigh asked, knowing that the American had very different contacts than he did. Miller had fought with the Marquis de Lafayette.
“No, I have not,” admitted Miller. “I have sent out word to my contacts, but quite frankly, things are beginning to become unraveled there. I fear for the king and queen.”
“As you should,” Leander gritted, feeling like the entire world was on the verge of collapse. But he was going to hold England together. “They’ve been imprisoned, and I do not think that they are going to fare well out of this.”
Miller cocked his head to the side as they rode onto the paddock and unsheathed their sabers. “Surely, the French people will be reasonable. They’re not going to—”
“Why do you think they’d be reasonable?” Leander broke in. “It is not like your revolution. Not by any standard. We did not beat you into the ground for generations, starve you all to near death, keep you in abject poverty, and expect to be lauded for it. Unfortunately, that’s what the French nobility has done to its people.”
“That’s fair,” Miller allowed. “I cannot argue that point. Taxation without representation was a good argument, but we were not being starved.”
Leander forced himself to relax the grip on his reins, lest the stallion beneath him begin to react poorly to his tension. A flash of Peter’s face came to his mind, and Leander abruptly shook it away.
He swallowed and ground out, “The French people have known nothing but oppression for hundreds of years and total rule by the Bourbons. At least in this country, we do have an active Parliament, and we do not allow our king to have total rule. We had our own civil wars and revolutions, you see.”
Miller nodded. “I do see. English history is rather fascinating. It’s a miracle that the island still stands with any sort of semblance of organization.”
Leander lifted his saber in salute. “That’s because men like me hold on tight with an iron fist and make certain that even if there’s a war on this soil, the country comes out on top. Men like me must. Because in the past, when it has grown completely out of hand, it’s been a total bloodbath. And I think that’s what’s about to happen in France.”
“A bloodbath?” Miller queried.
Leander’s voice lowered, and he locked gazes with the man who was becoming his friend. “You think so too, don’t you? In your heart of hearts.”
Miller looked away, a muscle tightening in his jaw, then he stroked the flank of his russet-colored steed. “You’re correct. But I don’t see the point in surrendering to the catastrophe until the deed is done and there’s no going back. There’s nothing that I can do here except send word back to the United States in letters about the dissolution of France, about the response of England to it…” Miller looked back, his gaze dark. “And honestly, England is struggling itself at the moment.”
“Which is why I’m very glad that you’re here to help me,” Leander said earnestly.
“I should go home,” Miller replied, staring out into the distance.
“And take my sister? I don’t think so,” Leander countered quickly, adjusting his handle on the reins, holding the saber out from his thigh. “Now, let us have at this.”
“Wait,” Miller called sharply. “Why do you want to marry my sister? Truly. Is it just because she’s convenient?”
Leander felt the weight of Miller’s demand, and his throat tightened for a moment. How did he explain what had made him ask? That he had to keep all his family happy. It was his duty. How he wanted Mercy to be happy because her happiness would affect Tobias’s happiness, which affected Juliet’s happiness.
And she was also the right woman for him. This was true. Out of all the women he had met, she was perhaps the only one capable of handling him. All of him.
“No, it’s not,” he said honestly. “It’s because from the moment I saw her, I knew that there was no better choice in the world for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Miller queried quietly. “Explain yourself.”
“What do you think when you look at me? What sort of a man am I?” Leander asked, his voice low.
“You’re a driven man,” Miller allowed, his gaze unrelenting. “There’s something inside you, but you keep it on a leash. But you’re a good man.”
Leander ground his teeth. Miller saw him better than he thought.
“I don’t think it’s dangerous,” Miller continued firmly. “Otherwise, I would never let my sister near you. But you think you are. You’re very hard on yourself. You put on a grand mask to the world to make everyone think you are jolly, and you are…to a degree. You care for your family, and you want them to be happy, and you do everything you can for that. I know you’ll try to make my sister happy too, so I’m not afraid on that score, Westleigh. You wish to leave the world a much better place than when you came into it, and I think you’ll succeed. And I think you want my sister to help you. And to see her with that kind of power? With that kind of a partner as a husband? How could I say no to that?”
At the terrifyingly accurate summation by Miller, a slow smile tilted Leander’s lips. “I have your full support then?”
“My support is not what matters,” Miller drawled, circling his horse who was dancing restlessly. “You need to get my sister’s approval.”
“Oh, I shall. I shall,” he said. “But you’re a fool if you think that your support doesn’t matter. She loves you.”
A strange look crossed Miller’s face, a cross between sorrow and fury. “I’m the only thing she’s had in her life since our parents chose a king over their children,” he said. “All we’ve had is each other.”
“That’s not the truth any longer,” Leander said. “Now you have family. A great big family. One that would conquer the world for you and Mercy. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Miller rasped before he looked swiftly away, “and frankly, I can barely believe it.”
“I think we should have a double wedding, don’t you?” Leander suddenly blurted.
“First, you have to get her to say yes,” Miller warned. “You’ve yet to win this challenge.”
But Leander loved a challenge because it made it all the sweeter when it worked out in the end.
He would not fail. Not in this.
Not in anything.