Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One

James woke with a start as his valet jerked back the curtains, letting a bright stream of sunlight cascade across the bed. He untangled himself from his sheets. Another odd series of dreams last night had him feeling just as tired as when he laid down his head.

“Sorry, my lord. You asked me to wake you promptly at seven. Shall you take a tray here, or go down?”

James rubbed his face with both hands. “What? No, I’ll dress and go down. Is my brother awake? Or my mother?”

“Her Grace’s bell rang at half six, my lord.” William set out a blue morning coat, red brocade waistcoat, and tan breeches.

“And my brother? He didn’t abscond in the night back to Town?”

“I believe His Grace is still here, my lord,” William replied.

“Be sure his valet wakes him soon and remind him that his guests will expect to see him for breakfast.”

“Very good, my lord.”

William helped him dress in silence. James took one last look in the mirror, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps his mother might know of a tonic to aid with sleeplessness. Leaving that problem aside for now, he donned the mask of a Corbin, and left the serenity of his bedchamber.

The breakfast room was already occupied by multiple early risers. As James entered, everyone jumped to their feet, no doubt expecting him to be the duke.

“Only me,” he said with a smile. “Please, let’s not stand on ceremony while you’re all guests here. Think of Alcott as your home.”

“Too kind, Lord James,” one of the ladies murmured.

Burke was the first to resume his seat. Sir Andrew returned to eagerly salting his poached egg. Next to him, Lady Oswald and Blanche twittered about every feature of the room, from the flowers to the china patterns. Across the table, the Viscountess Raleigh and her daughter Madeline spoke in hushed tones.

James took his seat, leaving the end chair open for his brother. As he was served a plate, he noticed the subtle glances cast his way. The ladies waited for him to offer up something…anything. Plans for the day’s entertainment, a delightful anecdote about George, history of the house. Instead, he focused on his breakfast.

“His Grace?” he muttered, as a footman poured him a second cup of tea.

“Not yet awake, m’lord.”

James folded his newspaper and shot Burke a look to tell him where he was going.

Burke lifted the corner of his mouth, his expression clearly saying, Better you than me.

James cleared his throat and stood. “After breakfast, I thought we might walk in the gardens…now that the rain has eased. I’m sure His Grace will be happy to join us. He’s quite proud of his fruit trees.”

“Capital idea,” replied Sir Andrew.

“What a lovely thought,” chimed his wife.

“And of course, the ladies will take tea with the duchess,” he added, nodding to the two younger ladies. “And more of our house party arrives today.”

The table murmured their excitement as James leaned down, one hand on Burke’s shoulder. He spoke only loud enough for his friend to hear. “If I’m not back in half an hour, it’s because I’m burying George under those damned trees.”

Burke took a sip of his coffee. “Shall I instruct the tour guide to avoid the side gardens?”

With a scowl, James nodded and left.

James crossed half the house and scaled three flights of stairs to reach his brother’s bedchamber. A footman waited outside the door with a sleepy look on his face. James didn’t envy him. He couldn’t imagine a worse job than being forced to stand outside a door and wait endlessly until someone chanced to need it opened.

“Open it,” James said.

The footman scrambled for the handle and gave it a tug.

James swept into the room, making no noise on the plush blue carpets. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, the fire in the hearth having gone out hours ago. He sighed as he saw the state of his brother—spread-eagle in the middle of his massive four-poster bed, bare arse on display. To either side of him, a girl was curled, not a stitch of clothing to cover their nakedness. One still wore a belted contraption around her waist that gave her…the anatomy of a man.

James looked pointedly away. This was one of the less compromising states he’d found his brother in recently. His brother who—on top of being a virulent breed of fornicator—was also prone to drinking, smoking, gambling, and all other forms of vice.

“Christ man, get up,” James barked. He crossed over to the window and jerked open the curtains, letting the room flood with blinding sunlight.

“Wha—whashappen?” George grunted, face still deep in his pillow.

James grabbed the ewer of water from the side table and tossed the contents over the bed. The maids squealed and bolted out either side, their wet tits bouncing. The girl wearing the cock harness blushed crimson as she noted James standing at the end of the bed. She shimmied out of the device, which left the dark curls of her sex on full display.

“Get out,” he said, pointing towards the concealed servant’s door in the corner.

Both women rushed to leave with their clothes bundled in their arms.

“Killjoy,” George groaned, rolling over to give James an unwanted view of his half-hardened cock. “I wanted to enjoy them again when I woke up.”

“You’ve had more than enough fun for now,” James said, tossing his brother a robe. “Get dressed. You have a house full of guests and I need you. They’re here to see the Duke of Norland, not his little brother.”

George stuffed his arms through the sleeves of his robe and snatched the ewer from James’ hands, using it as a piss pot. He tried to hand it back to James, but James stepped away. There were many roles James would serve in his quest to protect the family and the county from George’s influence, but piss pot attendant was not one of them.

George set the ewer aside and stood, stretching his arms high over his head. His half-masted cock was still on display and James had to fight the urge to smack it.

“I’ll call Robert in to help you dress.”

“I’m famished,” George said, dropping into a chair by the bed.

“Well, you missed breakfast,” James replied. “Robert will bring a tray.”

“You really are an insufferable little fuck, James.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” James said, wholly unfazed by his brother’s rudeness. Seeing as they were eight years apart in age, they had never been close. “I will not have you ruin this for mother,” he said. “She’s invited several prominent families, and they will be your guests for the next three weeks. Not mine, George. Yours. If you want to see just how insufferable I can be, try and weasel your way out of this.”

“You are absolutely no fun.” George rubbed at his temples. “Christ, I need a cure for this headache.”

“The perfect cure is fresh air and sunlight,” James replied. “You’ll find both in the gardens when you take your guests on a tour in half an hour.”

George groaned again. If the brothers had one singular thing in common, it was how much they detested playing tour guide. “What do I get if I play your little game and behave as the benevolent duke for the morning?”

“Not just this morning. You need to be on form for the next three weeks—”

“Impossible—”

“Mother expects you to announce your engagement by Michaelmas. I’ve never seen her so determined, George. Your options at this point are either the altar or the grave.”

George muttered under his breath something about fleeing to the continent.

James just gave his brother a bitter laugh. “You’re not going anywhere. The coachmen are under strict instructions not to remove you from this house.”

George puffed himself up. “So, I’m to be a prisoner in my own home?”

“If that’s what it takes,” James replied. “As long as we have guests here, I’ll be riding your arse at every moment…and you won’t like it nearly as much as you did last night when whoever she is did whatever it was with that filthy wooden cock.”

George grinned. “If you knew the pleasures that little toy could bring, you’d not be trying to use it as a threat.”

“Yes, but I won’t use a cock,” James growled. “It will be my booted foot up your arse, and I’ll keep kicking until I knock out your goddamn teeth.”

Before another barb could be uttered, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Enter,” James called.

The door swung open to admit the young valet. Behind him, a footman carried a breakfast tray piled with boiled eggs, sausages, toast, and a small cup of piping hot cocoa.

James turned to the valet. “You have exactly twenty minutes to get His Grace fed, clothed, and downstairs. If I don’t find him there in twenty minutes, I’ll be docking a shilling from your pay.”

The young valet swallowed and nodded.

“Killjoy!” George called again as James took his leave.

“Do your fucking job!” James shouted back from the doorway, closing it with a snap.