And the great hero-reveal for the next book in my Heart of a Duke collection! ***Please note, the following excerpt is a raw, unedited piece from the still, as of yet untitled book! Lord Alex Edgerton, second son, spare to the heir, kicked his legs out and propped them on the edge of his brother, the current marquess’ desk. “You summoned me?” He yawned; his gaze sought the time from the long-case clock. Ungodly hour for a man to be awake. Gabriel frowned and leaned forward in his chair. “I summoned you a week ago.” Had it been a week? He’d thought the missive arrived at his clubs two days past, but certainly not a week. Regardless… “I’ve been quite busy.” He’d had a brilliant run at the faro tables and some delicious company at Forbidden Pleasures. “Busy?” His brother repeated in that incredulous, more than a little condescending tone. “What? At your whist tables?” Alex bristled. “Hardly.” Everyone knew he far preferred faro to whist. How disappointing that his brother who knew everything should fail to know this important detail about him. “Then what?” He blinked. His brother lowered his voice in that reproachful, father-like manner of his. “Are you in such a liquor induced stupor that you require my clarification?” Oh bloody hell, his brother was in a foul temper. “Very well,” Gabriel continued, no prodding required from Alex. “Have you been too busy gaming and whoring and drinking to respond to a missive?” “A summons.” His brother cocked his head. Alex shifted, and knowing it would infuriate his stodgy brother, hooked his ankle over the other. “Yours was not a note. It was a summons. You are quite adept at ordering one about.” He steeled his jaw. “Much like father, you know. He’d be proud.” Those deliberately needling words had the desired affect. His brother’s eyes became thin slits, and rage dripped from his frame. How neatly Gabriel had slid into that detested role. Alex had been well and truly glad the day his miserable, violent sire had departed to the hereafter, never daring to believe that Gabriel would become…this. “Are we done here?” Alex asked, with another yawn. “If you remember I mentioned I’d important business to attend.” Particularly a lush brunette and delectable blonde at Forbidden Pleasures who’d been quite inventive and eager last evening. Gabriel sat back in his seat and folded his arms at the chest. “You’ve been losing at whist.” Faro. He had a deuced run of rotten luck. “My luck always turns.” “The only thing turning with predictable frequency is your pockets; inside out as you squander away this family’s fortune.” “My allowance,” he felt inclined to point out. Every shilling of his allowance was a payment owed him for the lash of his father’s birch rod. “I earned that,” he whispered, the words slipping from him before he could call them back. Gabriel scoffed. “You’ve never earned anything in your life. You’ve never worked for anything or known toil.” A dull heat climbed his neck at the charge that hit too close to the mark. “As opposed to your very diligent, prideful work?” He arched a taunting eyebrow. Alas, his brother had grown immune to Alexs baiting over the years. “I also don’t squander away the gift given me as a nobleman’s son.” Gabriel had however, become more precise with landing those pointed jabs. “Which brings me to the reason for my missive.” “Summons,” he supplied. A mottled flush stained his brother’s face. “I’m cutting you off,” he said at last. Alex slid his legs off the edge of the desk and the heel of his boots scraped along the floor. “What was that?” He really shouldn’t have had that half bottle of brandy last evening. Fine, French spirits, some of the best, but still he shouldn’t have had quite so much. For it had sounded as though his brother had said… “I’m cutting you off,” Gabriel repeated with infuriating composure. He slashed his hand. “No allowance. Let to the pocket. Off at the knees.” He grinned, a hard, cold smile. In that moment his brother’s face shifted, and he now sat before the old marquess. Cold, heartless, grinning a vile, black smile and reaching for that birch. And even at twenty-nine years, his mouth went dry with the familiar terror. He blinked, desperately longing for that fine French brandy now, for altogether different reasons. “Nothing to say?” his brother drawled. When had Gabriel become this methodical bastard? He’d really be impressed if the other mans ire wasn’t even now turned on him. “I don’t expect you’re looking for a thank you?” He said with a half-grin, even as worry filled his belly. He was completely and totally dependent upon that damned allowance. The one thing given him by his father. Of course, the evil bastard even in death had a wicked humor giving eldest brother ultimate control over the youngest, less revered son. “Is everything a game to you? With your legions of mistresses-- Hardly legions. Never more than one at a time. All in bad form. “Your debts at the gaming tables.” He’d had a rotten run of luck. That was all there was to it. Gabriel ran a disgusted stare up and down his frame. “Tell me this. If you can provide one suitable, sufficient answer, I shall leave your allowance untouched and yours forever.” Alex braced. “In your twenty-nine years, who have you loved more than yourself?” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, unable to meet his gaze and shamed by that unwitting weakness on his part. There had been a time, he’d loved Gabriel in that way, his older brother, and champion who’d bravely stepped in and taken lashes meant for Alex, the younger, failure of a brother. He loved his sisters, now. And that was it.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 01:17:19 +0000
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