Page 13 of If the Duke Demands

Sebastian shook his head, knowing the headaches of a season. “Invitations to court and vouchers to Almack’s, all that pomp to suffer, all the social hoops to jump through—”

“Shopping trips to Bond Street and visits to the dressmaker for beautiful ball gowns.” Her eyes shined at all the possibilities of the season. “Carriage rides through the park, grand balls, art exhibitions, musicales, nights at the theater…”

As she continued to tick off a long list on her fingers, Sebastian knew he’d lost. After last night, he wanted to keep Miranda as far away from him as possible, but he would also do anything to make his mother happy.

And yet, not wanting to be accused of not trying to stop this goose egg of a plan in four weeks when all hell broke loose, he warned solemnly, “The girl causes nothing but trouble.”

She smiled patiently at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, Miranda is no longer a girl.”

Oh, he’d certainly noticedthat, all right. Which was the biggest trouble of all.

“She simply needs supervision and a proper place to channel her exuberance,” she assured him. “I’ll take care of her and all the arrangements, and since we’ll be staying with Josephine and Chesney, you’ll hardly see her. You’ll barely know she’s in London at all.”

His mother’s assurances did nothing to alleviate the uneasiness clawing at his gut, but he had no choice. He wouldn’t do anything to take away the first signs of excitement in Mother since Father died. If it took giving Miranda a proper London season to make his mother happy again, then he’d do it.

Even if it killed him.

“Very well,” he grudgingly acquiesced. “We’ll give her a season.”

His mother beamed happily, and Sebastian’s chest lightened. Whatever problems Miranda did manage to create in Mayfair, seeing that happiness again on his mother’s face would be worth it.

He hoped.

“Good. It’s all settled then. If you’ll excuse me.” She rose from her chair, and all three of her sons scrambled to their feet. “I have a house to see to, to make certain all is put back to order.” She headed toward the door, then paused to glance back, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Including the cupid statue from the rose garden fountain that somehow found its way into Lord Batten’s bed.”

Robert and Quinn exchanged guilty glances, then dropped their gazes to the floor, saying nothing to incriminate themselves.

With a long-suffering sigh and shake of her head, she glided from the room, a perfection of matronly force.

Robert and Quinn flopped back down into their chairs. Sebastian crossed from behind his desk to the coffee tray, not bothering with the pretense of coffee as he poured himself a cup of straight whiskey.

He shot Quinn a glance. “Were you really planning on setting a May Day bonfire?”

“Seb.” His youngest brother feigned injury at the accusation. “You know we’d never do anything like that.”

“Not for May Day,” Robert piped up in his brother’s defense. “But Guy Fawkes—”

“An imperative,” Quinn interjected resolutely. Then he grimaced with disappointment. “But the donkey ridesweretrue.”

“Not anymore.” Sebastian took a gasping swallow of whiskey. “I don’t want any trouble this season. It’s going to be hard enough for Mother to be in London for the first time since Father’s death. I don’t want any of us to make it harder for her than it needs to be.”

Quinn nodded, suddenly serious. “Then it’s a good thing she’s bringing Miranda. Truly, Seb. We all know you don’t like her, but—”

“I like her,” he interrupted, far more defensively than he’d intended. Hedidlike her. She was sweet and endearing in her own way, when she wasn’t causing trouble. But while he was searching for a duchess, he simply preferred to like her from two hundred miles away.

“But sheisgood for Mother,” Robert concluded seriously in that peculiar way all three brothers had of finishing each other’s thoughts.

Quinn nodded. “Miranda will keep her busy.”

“And keep her mind off Father,” Robert finished soberly.

Sebastian sighed in grudging agreement. “Just keep Miranda from causing problems forme, will you?”

“Sorry.” Quinn shook his head with a wide grin. “I’ll be too busy looking for my own women to keep close.”

“Lookingbut not finding,” Robert goaded with a laugh.

“Oh, I’ll catch them all right.” Quinn kicked his feet up onto the corner of the desk and laced his hands behind his head as he leaned confidently back in the chair. “As easy as salmon fishing in Scotland. They’ll be taking the bait and begging me to—”