Read Online Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02] by The Duke Next Door - Free Book Online

climb trees with the swarm of Bixby brats. He used to ask Calder to join them, but Calder was too proud and too jealous to admit that he was not allowed, so he sneered and claimed he had better things to do with his time.
    Rafe must have known however, for he always brought back some treasure for him—a bird’s nest with one blue egg, a stone as smooth as glass from the flowing water, a ribbon teased from a Bixby girl’s hair. There would be a story attached, of course, that Calder would listen to with an expression of bored tolerance, but that he waited for each day, all day.
    There was a certain amount of gloating, of course. Nothing with Rafe was ever that simple. The gifts were part trophy, part sharing. The stories bragged and taunted even as they entertained. Love and envy twined through their every thought, their every reaction. Brotherhood but not equality. Bonds that held only as far as the intricacies of inheritance allowed. Rafe would fight for him, he knew that. He also knew that Rafe would fight with him, just as wholeheartedly. The wall of inequity between them meant that they might never truly be friends, but it could not completely sever the ties of blood and childhood.
    Rafe was the other side of himself, the side that he could not seem to reach, nor even see. Like visages on a coin, never facing the same way. Rafe had all the ease and friendliness and charm.
    Everyone loved Lord Rafe, as he became known.
The baker saved the best cakes for him, the storekeeper’s daughter flirted with him and ruffled his dark hair, the carpenter carved him a matched set of horses—one of which he tried to give to Calder, who refused it.
    It was so easy for him. Calder watched in envy shielded in scorn. He knew the successive kings and queens of England in order, could spout centuries of literature and tally sums into nine digits with ease, but he could not make a chambermaid smile, nor coax his father’s booming laugh with a story about falling into the river while flying a kite.
    That he outmatched Rafe in their studies was not cause for celebration, but only what his father expected of him. Rafe was quick to learn but just as quick to lose interest. Calder was the one who carried doggedly on, past the point of learning about the dashing battles won on to the politics beneath the war.
    There was only one area of study where Rafe surpassed him—when it came to Brookhaven itself. Rafe soaked up the family history as if he’d always known it and only needed reminding. For Calder, giving the estate over to Rafe’s care on his brother’s wedding day had not been hard. Rafe would never fail Brookhaven. He would be a good master.
    Yet for all his easy charm and quick likeability, Rafe had never presumed to be more than he was. Without affectation or pretense, he did not try to hide from where he’d risen. Down to the silver buttons on his coat—when most who could not afford gold tried to fool the world with cheaper brass—Rafe was without an ounce of shame for his low beginnings.
    What was it like to be so contented with oneself?
    Calder gazed stonily at his chilled breakfast and his
tepid coffee. He was not his brother. He did not attract people like moths to his flame. He had to pay them well, like Fortescue, or, like his new bride, marry them into submission.
    He stood and tossed his napkin onto his congealing eggs. “I’ve work to do. Bring more coffee to my study.” He stalked away from Fortescue’s bow. The last thing he needed right now was the silent sympathy in his butler’s gaze.

Chapter Eleven
    For her part, Deirdre had the sort of morning she had always dreamed of. She rose at her leisure, put on a silk dressing gown, and reclined upon her velvet sofa in her luxurious bedchamber, drinking the exquisite tea brought by her cheerful maid.
    She asked for her customary breakfast on a tray and it soon appeared. Toast and a small dish of berries. No cream, no butter, no jam.
    She was weak-kneed from lack of