Page 10 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

“Perhaps they mistake your generosity for agreement,” Kettleburn said. “You’ve funded more pamphlets than any man in York.”

Roman shrugged in dismissal. “I fund thought, not sedition. If reasoned argument offends them, that is their failing, not mine.”

Lyness wished his brother did not sound so certain.

Kettleburn waved the subject away. “Everyone knows the papers exaggerate in an attempt to build up whatever position their owner maintains. It is only the Tories reading exactly what the Tories want to believe.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Eastwood is right, though. We have important things to discuss in terms of the social expectations of our fair city, especially now that everyone who ran off to London has returned. The Knavesmire Races will soon be upon us. The Royal Theatre has put out a bill for their upcoming plays and operas. The Assembly Rooms have posted about their balls and exhibitions. The matrons are even now putting in orders for more of Cupid’s arrows.”

This time, Phineas sank lower in his chair. “I have no wish to discuss such things outside of learning where you lot will be, so I may stay in the middle of the pack and avoid notice.”

“The races begin the nineteenth,” Roman said, glancing at Lyness. “Finishing the twenty-fourth. I cannot imagine it will be a quiet week for any of us.”

“I have two horses engaged to race,” Kettleburn said. “I expect your best wishes, even if you bet against them.”

“Remember when one of Kettleburn’s horses refused to turn the corner last year?” Phineas said, eyes alight. “The poor jockey went right into mire.”

That lead to a round of laughter. Kettleburn had not had a true champion from his stables in the five years since he’d taken over from his father. He bore the brunt of their teasing well enough, and they had all encouraged him to continue with the enterprise. It took time to breed winners.

At length, they settled their bills and went their separate ways. Roman had Apollo with him, though he had left the large dog tethered in the courtyard of the inn. When he collected his dog, Lyness gave a coin to the lad who had watched Apollo and likely spoiled the animal with affection and treats.

As they stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight, Lyness glanced at his brother beside him, the great dog trotting at their heels. Roman spoke easily of the races and the weather, yet the earlier political conversation lingered. He drew men to him by conviction as much as charm. It was admirable—and dangerous, if he ever lost their faith.

“It is a fine day to be out,” Roman said, a near smile on his lips.

Lyness sighed. Letting go of the topic was best. For now. “Indeed. Perfect weather to be out of doors.” Even if he would rather enjoy such weather in the countryside, he could appreciate it nearly as well in town.

Together they walked along St. Saviour’s Gate, Apollo between them, their strides evenly matched. The street traffic wasn’t yet heavy at that time of day, allowing them to converse easily without having to shout over the sounds of horses or crowds. Despite that, Roman remained unusually quiet for several minutes. Lyness let him have the time to think. His own thoughts proved troublesome, given that they kept turning to a lady with soft smiles and eyes that met his with curiosity rather than hesitation. Despite hearing his stutter.

Such things hardly mattered, he told himself. Besides, he had Roman to keep him occupied. Roman and Lyness had always looked after each other. Even now, on this street that they had walked together a thousand times, Lyness knew his brother’s step as well as he knew the way home. When they were younger, they had raced along the pavement together, returning to the house from the market with tales for their father and sweets for their mother. Back before responsibility had changed them both.

Roman broke the silence between them abruptly. “I think it is time I look for a wife. In earnest.”

Lyness stumbled on the pavement, catching himself with a sharp breath. “You wh-wh-what?” He stopped walking completely. His brother had not spoken seriously of marriage for years. Not since Lady Josephine, the Duke of Montfort’s daughter, had turned down his suit. Roman kept himself too busy for courtship. At two-and-thirty, he was not yet an old bachelor.

Uncertain what to say, Lyness stared at his brother somewhat stupidly.

Roman had made it two steps before realizing he’d rendered his younger brother a statue with his words. When the baron turned, his mouth curved wryly. “You thought I meant to remain a bachelor forever, did you? My life dedicated to nothing but this city? I suppose that is a rather dramatic image. Perhaps my ghost would even take it up after my death. Haunting the ancient walls along with the ghosts of the past.” He took the lead of Apollo’s leash in both hands and bent it, his gaze on the leather strip rather than on Lyness. “Even a brooding baron must consider the future. I have been remiss in my duties to our family and rather unfair to you. Our legacy cannot rest on your shoulders alone, Lyness.”

Lyness’s throat tightened around words he could not shape. Not without stumbling all over them as he tried to free them from his lips. Which was strange. Roman did not usually cause the stutter to worsen.

As though sensing the statement had come across as more of a shock than intended, Roman tilted his head to the side. “I did not think you would take the matter this hard, Lyness. I cannot think it will change things too much. Certainly not enough for you to wear such a look of concern. Do you think I will turn into a romantic fool overnight?”

Mutely, Lyness shook his head. No. He could not imagine Roman forgetting any responsibilities. Not even for a wife. Which, Lyness supposed, might cause trouble when the baron did finally find a bride he liked. Roman would need someone patient, for certain, and understanding. A woman grown rather than a young lady, as his mother said, who needed to finish maturing.

A woman like Lady Emily, whom his mother already seemed predisposed to approve of. The dull ache in his chest was evidence enough of his feelings on that matter. Feelings he had to put aside, for loyalty’s sake.

Swallowing, Lyness tried to force a single question out. “Do y-y-you know who…?” He shook his head, impatient with his tongue.

Roman did not need him to finish the question to understand it. “I haven’t anyone in mind yet, no. But Mother has been rather insistent of late, and she has a point. I am turning three-and-thirty in a matter of weeks. Father has been gone nearly a decade. The barony needs to continue to a new generation. Mother needs a daughter-in-law to keep her company. I need someone with me in London to plan for social events and…it is time, I suppose.”

None of those reasons sounded particularly appealing to Lyness, and he wondered if an unmarried lady would find any of them compelling. Added to it the complete lack of enthusiasm in Roman’s tone, and Lyness had to shake his head at the whole idea.

“You disapprove?” Roman asked, eyebrows raised.

“N-n-no.” Lyness winced, then physically bit his tongue for its misbehavior. He released a sigh and spoke with deliberate slowness. “You sound miserable.”

At that, Roman barked a laugh, and Apollo grumbled next to him as though he disapproved of the sound. “I am not miserable. Merely…resigned.”

“Same th-thing.”