The sunlight shining in through the window behind her turned Arabella’s blonde curls to gold. ‘A year ago Lord Darius was on the verge of bankruptcy, was he not? And yet within the last seven months he has married an heiress, who conveniently died and left him in sole possession of her fortune, and now his brother has also died, leaving him in possession of a dukedom.’ Arabella gave a scathing shake of her head. ‘A change of fortunes, indeed!’
Lucian scowled. ‘I trust you are not implying anything untoward, Arabella?’
‘I am not implying anything, Lucian,’ she assured him brittly. ‘I am merely commenting that Lord Darius has been blessed by this sudden change of circumstance.’
Lucian’s brows rose. ‘I do not believe he would consider himself blessed in having just lost his older brother.’
‘You would not feel that way if it were Hawk, I am sure, but…’
‘I had no idea you disliked Darius so much.’ In the circumstances it was perhaps as well that Arabella did not know of Darius’s offer for her the previous year!
Arabella shook her head. ‘I do not know him well enough to dislike him.’
Lucian frowned. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you did not accompany me this morning, after all.’
‘Oh, I am most definitely coming with you, Lucian,’ his sister informed him determinedly. ‘I assure you I will not allow my prejudice towards Lord Darius to prevent me from being of some comfort to Grace.’ She moved to the door. ‘I will go upstairs now and inform our aunt of our visit, before collecting my bonnet and cloak.’
Lucian’s expression was thoughtful as he continued to sit at the breakfast table, mulling over Arabella’s comments concerning Darius Wynter’s sudden change of circumstances.
Darius’s nephew Simon, Marquess of Richfield, had died two years ago, during the horrific battle of Waterloo.
Darius’s wife of only one month had died in a hunting accident six months ago, leaving him in possession of her considerable fortune.
His brother George had now collapsed and died—the fact that he had not regained consciousness meant they would never know now what had caused that collapse—making Darius the new Duke of Carlyne.
Coincidence, Lucian dismissed as he rose briskly to his feet, to move into the hallway and collect his hat and cane in readiness for departing to Carlyne House. He had known Darius since childhood, and whilst the older man might have been a womaniser and a gambler before his marriage, seven months ago, Darius had by all accounts settled down to country life on his estate in Malvern.
No, Lucian was convinced this was just a course of unfortunate events. Although George Wynter’s death did now make Darius Grace’s guardian…
‘My aunt, with the help of the draught the physician left for her, has finally fallen into an exhausted sleep,’ Grace informed Darius and Francis Wynter wearily as she joined them in the library, wearing the only gown she had with her that was in the least suitable for mourning: a deep grey, high-waisted silk gown that exactly matched the colour of her eyes.
Darius gave a grave shake of his head as he stood in front of the window. ‘I still cannot believe it. It is as well that I happened to be here and not in Malvern.’
‘It is, is it not?’ Francis didn’t even attempt to hide his resentment as he sat in one of the high-backed chairs before the unlit fireplace. ‘I, of course, would never have been able to manage without you!’
Grace gave a gasp at this unwarranted attack by Francis upon his elder brother. As far as she could tell there had never been any love lost between them—they were far too different in character to have anything in common—but surely they could ignore those differences now, in deference to their older brother’s recent death?
Darius, despite his grief and lack of sleep, this morning looked every inch that handsome angel/devil that Arabella had described him as yesterday.
‘I will excuse your rudeness, Francis,’ he rasped harshly, those cobalt-blue eyes narrowed warningly. ‘You are obviously overset by George’s death.’
‘Of course I am.’ Francis drew in a shaky breath, his face very pale. ‘Are you not equally upset, Darius?’