Page 9 of A Deal with a Rake (Wicked Widows’ League #35)

He loved Declan. They had always been close, but their differences always caused arguments between them. However, they could never stay upset with the other for long.

“Aye,” Tavish agreed.

“Gentlemen, please, a little decorum,” Hughes said, finally finding his voice.

Tavish turned his gaze to the portly solicitor. “Since you work for us now, Hughes, I’ll remind you O’Briens don’t take orders well.”

“Aye,” Declan agreed. “Nor do we allow anyone to get in between a family dispute.”

They were a close family. So close that Tavish often wondered if he really knew who he was without them.

“Forgive me.” Hughes bowed his head to the both of them. “As I said at my office, Your Grace is officially the Duke of Summerset. The only pressing item is to have the duchess vacate the London home and to remove anything she may have at the ancestral estate in Norfolk immediately.”

Tavish turned to pour another glass of the God awful brandy. Something about the solicitor’s flippant remark about the duchess had Tavish clenching his teeth.

“Where will she go?” The words escaped him before he could catch them. Why Tavish cared about the welfare of a woman he’d only met for mere minutes escaped him.

“I believe her parents are more than prepared to take her back. I’ve been told by Lady Allendale that another advantageous match is being arranged.” The solicitor sat back as a maid entered, carrying an elaborate tea service.

He fecking hated tea.

Another advantageous match?

What about passion?

Tavish never thought much about love, though his parents were a love match. He’d spent his entire childhood surrounded by love, yet he’d never experienced it for himself in his twenty-eight years of life.

“I’m sorry to have kept you gentlemen waiting,” the sultry voice of the duchess filled the room.

Tavish’s body naturally turned to face the woman, noticing that she was now fully clothed in a green day dress.

Shame.

She was glorious naked. Perhaps he should request that she always be so in his presence. That could make things easier between them.

“Ahh, Your Grace,” Hughes greeted, standing. “As you see we have located the new duke, he will want possession of both Rainchester Manor and Summerset House?—”

“Thank you, Hughes, but I think the duchess and I can work out the logistics ourselves,” Tavish interrupted, not liking the tone the solicitor used with her.

The duchess’s sharp, hawk-like gaze landed on him, and his softening cock hardened anew.

Fecking hell. This was a problem.

“Ahh, yes, very well, Your Grace.” Hughes drummed his fingers together nervously before he faced the duchess. “Per your marriage contract you will receive two hundred pounds a year?—”

“Really?” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I wasn’t aware of the sum my parents sold me for, but thank you for the reminder, Hughes. You’re as kind as ever,” she said sharply, her eyes never leaving the solicitor’s, an open challenge.

Unable to hold her gaze, the older man took up his cane and rushed toward the door. “If there is nothing else needed. I am at your disposal, Your Grace.”

For a few moments, Tavish said nothing until the eyes of everyone in the room turned to him expectantly.

Right, he was the duke now.

Fecking hell .

Florentia took a seat on her favorite chaise lounge in the entire house. An uncomfortable-looking thin gold chaise with decorative pillows. It was perfect for reading and escaping her husband, who had no patience for parlors or wives.

Hughes left her alone with the two brothers, who looked oddly alike except for their hair color and mannerisms. The duke was all hard edges, sharp looks, and something dark and mysterious that called to her.

It didn’t matter. Her situation had now changed, and she had to find new accommodations, ones that did not require that she marry another old man intent on controlling her.

“Tavish O’Brien, I presume,” she said, ignoring the way her blood heated beneath her skin just by the sight of him.

Tall, broad, devilishly good looking, and dangerous.

“At your service, Princess.” He raised the glass of brandy at her, a grin on those sinful lips of his.

Perhaps there were other reasons she needed to vacate Summerset House. Like the red-headed devil smirking at her like he wanted to do wicked things to her body. And God help her, Florentia was sure she’d let him.

Nothing good would come from her sleeping with the new heir. No, it was time for Florentia to leave the only home she’d ever called her own.

She’d miss it, of course. The servants and she had gotten on beautifully with her husband. Yes, she had bedded a groom and Thomas, but those were her first and last affairs at home. Both Thomas and the groomsman thought she needed saving and would in turn provide for them.

Well, she wasn’t in need of saving. Florentia would save herself. No one else ever had.

“You can address me as: Your Grace, duchess, or even Florentia, not princess.” She folded her arms, giving him a pointed look.

“And you can address me as Tavish, Princess.” He winked.

Bloody hell.

“Your Grace,” the other brother addressed her, “We understand that this is overwhelming to you, but my brother is willing to give you a fortnight to leave.”

“Feck off, Declan.” The duke stood tall, placing his glass down on the sidebar. “Florentia and I will discuss when she leaves, not you.”

Florentia and I.

A thrill of excitement slid over her, slow and deliberate.

“I forgot, you’re the bloody duke, you know what’s best,” The brother, Declan, replied in a flippant tone.

Florentia’s head swiveled from one brother to the other, finding it quite comical that they were bickering like women. They did not have prominent Irish accents like her late husband had always complained. They very much sounded English, but with crude words.

“Aye, I’m the bloody duke, and I will handle the duchess.” Tavish pointed to his chest.

She tried not to allow her mind to wander on ways he could actually handle her. Instead, Florentia went with what she knew, attitude.

“The duchess is right here,” she said rising to her feet, having heard enough from the two of them. “And I will not be handled by anyone. If you’ll excuse me.”

She reached the threshold of the parlor, before his deep voice halted her in place. “We’ll talk when I return.”

“Looking forward to it, Your Grace.” Florentia glided out of the room, finally able to breathe. Who knew that men like Tavish O’Brien, the new Duke of Summerset, existed.