Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter One
Wildwood, Kent—August 1796
Miles Notley awoke and immediately grinned.
Today, he was ten years of age. He would be in double digits the rest of his life, unless he made it to the ripe old age of one hundred years. He didn’t know anyone who had ever lived that long. Not anyone of his acquaintance, much less any figure mentioned in the history books he loved. Maybe he would do the impossible and live to be in triple digits.
His grinned widened. That would irritate Ralph to no end. One of Miles’ favorite things in life was annoying his older brother, who never let anyone forget that he was the heir apparent in the family. Ralph constantly mentioned how he would one day be the Duke of Winslow and his two younger brothers would be no ones. It didn’t bother Miles in the least. He didn’t want to be a duke. Especially if it meant being anything like his father. Winslow barely acknowledged Miles’ presence. Sometimes, he thought his father hadn’t a clue as to what his two younger sons were called. The duke was all about his heir and didn’t hide his favoritism.
It hurt Tony. He was only six and sensitive to criticism. Miles had made it his mission in life to protect Tony from Ralph, who could be cruel in both actions and words. Ralph would do something careless and blame the outcome on Miles or Tony, knowing they would be punished for his misdeed. Miles had taken many a thrashing which he didn’t deserve, all to protect the youngest Notley.
It didn’t matter. Neither of them cared for Ralph and tried to have as little as possible to do with the current marquess and future duke. If they weren’t family, Miles knew he would never wish to be friends with Ralph, who was lazy and spiteful. When Miles had gone away to school, it was expected that Ralph would look out for his younger brother, who had been sent to the same school all Notley boys attended.
The opposite had happened.
Miles had been bullied by several older boys, all at Ralph’s urging. He had learned to take whatever was doled out to him that first year. By the next school year—thanks to a painful growth spurt—Miles stood as tall as Ralph, who was three years his senior. He had laid a bully flat the first day of that second year and since then, Ralph and his crowd had given Miles a large berth. With Tony turning seven in two weeks, he would also go off to school with his older brothers. Miles intended to see his baby brother protected from Ralph and anyone else who might do Tony harm.
He rose and went to the window. The lawn of Wildwood looked like a magnificent green carpet rolled out as far as the eye could see. He wondered how he would spend his birthday. Probably riding with Tony. They could also go swimming in the nearby lake this afternoon. He knew not to expect any presents, however. Neither parent ever remembered his birthday. He told himself it didn’t matter when he knew that it did. When he was grown up and had children, he promised to always remember their birthdays. He would lavish gifts upon them, toy soldiers for the boys and dolls for the girls. He would take them somewhere special on that day and tell them how much he loved them.
And he would never let his parents see them. Ever. Miles swore never to expose them to his father’s cruelty and his mother’s indifference. He hoped the woman he wed would have nice parents. They would be his children’s grandparents, not the Duke and Duchess of Winslow. As far as Miles was concerned, the two of them could fawn over Ralph as much as they wanted. He and Tony would make separate lives, far away from the pair.
Leaving the window, he washed and changed into his clothes for the day. Heading to the schoolroom, he found Tony already there. A maid entered, bringing in a tray, and the boys breakfasted in peace, thanks to Ralph dining downstairs with their father. That had started a few weeks ago when Ralph turned thirteen. The duke had said Ralph was becoming a man and would take all his meals downstairs. Ralph had taunted his younger brothers, laughing at how privileged he now was. Miles and Tony had merely shrugged and proceeded to enjoy their meals for the first time in their lives, without Ralph’s constant taunting and badgering.
“Are you going to have a cake?” Tony asked. “For your birthday?”
“Yes. Cook is making a special one for me,” he shared with his little brother. “She remembers every year.”
Left unsaid was how their parents would ignore Miles’ special day.
Tony looked at Miles with undisguised devotion. “Do you feel older, being ten? That’s such a long way off,” he said forlornly.
“I don’t feel a bit different than when I was nine. But I plan to act as if I do.”
Tony’s eyes widened. “Do you mean to say that to Ralph?” he asked anxiously.
“I may,” he said.
“You know he doesn’t like you, Miles. Or me,” Tony said mournfully.
“Well, we don’t like him either, do we?”
“No,” Tony said resolutely. “We don’t. He’s mean to us. He broke a vase yesterday and told a maid I did it.”
“Were you punished?” Miles asked quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Tony shrugged. “You always stand up for me. I wanted to take the punishment.”
“You shouldn’t do that, especially when you hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“I wasn’t punished,” his brother said. “Once Ralph left, the maid swept up the pieces and told me she would throw them away. She promised not to tell anyone.” Tony bit his lip. “I think she knew I hadn’t broken it.”
Miles was certain the servants knew exactly what Ralph was like and appreciated that Tony hadn’t been blamed for the broken vase. He only hoped Ralph wouldn’t discover what had occurred. If he did, his brother would seek the maid out and blame her for the breakage and demand that she lose her position. It had happened before.
“Rub your bottom when you next see Ralph,” he suggested. “Wince a little as if you’re in pain. Make him think you’re so sore you can’t sit down”
Tony’s eyes lit up. “You want me to act as if I were punished?”
“Yes. Can you do that?”
His brother nodded solemnly.
“Good. Finish your breakfast. We’ll go riding after if you’d like.”
Tony shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and chewed quickly. Miles knew how much Tony enjoyed riding because he also enjoyed it more than any other activity. Being on a horse meant freedom. Being away from the house. Away from Ralph, who only tolerated riding and rarely chose to climb atop a horse.
The boys went to the stables, where a groom saddled ponies for both of them and then accompanied them across the estate. They rode for almost two hours, waving at tenants and taking a break to walk their horses through the forest so they could water them at a nearby stream.
When they returned to the house, Ralph was waiting for them, his arms crossed over his chest and a surly look upon his face. He seemed to resent any fun his brothers had, especially if they did so together, even though he never chose to spend time with them himself.
“Father wants to see you in his study,” he told them.
“Why?” asked a panic-stricken Tony, who looked to Miles for reassurance.
Miles couldn’t help but wonder if this was in regard to the broken vase. When Tony started to speak, Miles shook his head subtly, causing his brother to clamp his lips together.
“Come with me,” Ralph insisted, leading the way through the kitchens.
As they passed Cook, she gave him a conspiratorial smile and pointed. His eyes flicked to the tall cake, already iced and sitting on a nearby table. His mouth watered at its sight. He grinned at her and hurried to catch up with Ralph, Tony trailing behind him.
When they reached the study, Ralph ushered them inside and closed the door, throwing the lock. The duke wasn’t present. A sick feeling coursed through Miles. If Winslow had been waiting and grew tired, whatever punishment that would be administered would be horrible.
He turned to Tony and whispered, “Rub your arse.”
Tony, whose mouth trembled, did as he was told. Miles saw the gleam of pleasure light Ralph’s eyes.
“Sore today, little brother?” Ralph taunted, rushing over and slapping Tony’s arse hard, so hard the boy cried out.
Miles pushed Ralph away. “Leave him alone,” he said, staring directly into Ralph’s eyes.
The two held their gazes and then Ralph looked away. He shuffled off but Miles knew Ralph wouldn’t stay intimidated for long.
Ralph went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer on the right side. He lifted a pistol and aimed it at Miles.
“What are you doing?” he hissed at his older brother, his insides going cold at the sight of a weapon being pointed at him.
“Just playing,” Ralph said, moving his hand and pointing it at Tony.
Immediately, Tony teared up. Fat tears coursed down his cheeks.
“You’re such a baby,” Ralph taunted. “You better be ready when you get to school next month. The boys will really have it out for you.”
“Leave him alone,” Miles warned as Tony began to visibly shake.
“Or what?” Ralph said, pointing the pistol back at Miles. “What will you do about it?”
“I will protect him—as you should. He’s your brother, Ralph. You shouldn’t bully him or have your friends do so. Like they did to me,” he added.
Ralph puffed up with importance. “I am a marquess. I will be the Duke of Winslow someday. You can’t tell me what to do.”
He shook his head. “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? We know you are the heir to the dukedom, Ralph. Tony and I don’t care. It’s yours and we don’t want it.”
“Of course you do. Everyone wants to be a duke. Only those good enough get to be one,” Ralph said smugly.
“If being good is what is required, then you will never be Winslow,” Miles declared, his temper flaring. “A duke is one of the highest peers in the land. He has great responsibility to his family and his tenants. You are a selfish dolt who can barely ride a horse. You are cruel and wicked. You should be glad you are the firstborn Notley and will inherit everything because if you truly had to be good to become the Duke of Winslow, you never would.”
“How dare you!” Ralph shouted. “You are a conceited, arrogant little nobody. You’ll never be anyone. I’ll see to that.”
“No, you won’t,” Miles said, reining in his anger. “I am a second son. I will go into the army and fight for king and country. If I am lucky, I will be sent halfway across the world to India. Then I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again. Ever.”
Ralph’s face grew red with rage and Miles figured his brother had never thought that both his brothers wouldn’t be around to be kicked like stray dogs once they reached manhood.
“You’ll go into the army if I say you can,” Ralph said stubbornly.
Miles shook his head. “That’s not how it works. Second sons are meant for the military. Third sons become clergymen.”
“I’ll be a vicar?” Tony piped up.
He looked to Tony. “Yes, if you’d like to do so.”
His little brother nodded enthusiastically. “I would, Miles. I like the smell of a church. And I would get to marry people and christen babies. That would be fun.”
“You will be good at,” Miles said. “I know you would take good care of your parishioners.”
“No,” Ralph growled. “I won’t allow it. Father won’t allow it. When I am Winslow, you will work for me. You will be a steward at Wildwood and do everything I say, Miles.”
He smirked. “I will be doing whatever my commanding officer says, Ralph. You won’t have any part in my life. You won’t have me to blame when you are reckless or thoughtless. You will have to stand on your own two feet. Yes, people will fawn over you and tell you what you want to hear, merely because you are a duke.
“But I won’t be one of them.”
“I hate you!” declared Ralph. “The both of you.”
“Hate us all you like,” Miles said casually. “We are indifferent to you. You think we are nobodies?” He snorted. “Well, you are no one to us.”
Ralph’s nostrils flared. “I will make Tony’s life miserable once we’re at school. You won’t always be around to protect him. I will see that he becomes a blubbering mess.”
Hate reared within Miles. “Don’t threaten him,” he warned. “Tony is your brother. He is young and innocent.”
Ralph smiled triumphantly. “I can get to you through him.”
“I’ll tell Father,” Miles blurted out, instantly regretting his words. “He won’t let you be cruel to Tony.”
“Will you? Would he even believe you?” Ralph asked softly. “Father only loves me. He doesn’t care one whit about the two of you. I am his heir. I am the marquess.”
“You are so full of yourself,” he said. “You are a terrible person, Ralph, and you’ll make for a terrible duke. No one will like you. They will smile to your face and laugh at you behind your back—the way all the boys at school do now.”
“They do not!” roared Ralph. “Take it back.”
“I will not. Because it’s true.”
Ralph swung the pistol up and aimed it at Miles. He froze. The murderous look in his brother’s eyes told him that Ralph was going to pull the trigger.
Then courage flooded him. “Go ahead,” he said. “I dare you.”
“They won’t send a marquess to the gallows. I am your better and always will be.”
As Miles stood defiantly, he steeled himself for the bullet. As Ralph fired, a blur went past him. He heard a grunt.
And then Tony fell to the ground before him.
He dropped to his knees. “No,” he whispered.
Miles scooped up his brother’s shoulders and placed Tony’s head in his lap. Blood bubbled from the young boy’s lips as a crimson stain spread across his thin chest.
He glanced to Ralph. “Get help. Now.”
Looking back to Tony, he cooed, “You’ll be fine, little brother.”
Tony swallowed hard. “I . . . wanted to . . . save you.”
“You did,” he assured Tony. “You were very brave.”
“It hurts.”
“I know it does,” he murmured, brushing Tony’s hair from his brow. “Not for long. The doctor will come. He’ll make it feel better.”
Tony’s eyes grew glassy. Miles heard a pounding and someone shouting for the door to be opened.
“You must take the blame,” Ralph said, coming close and staring down as the life ebbed from the youngest Notley. “I am going to be the duke. You’re just a second son.”
Miles watched as the light faded from Tony’s eyes. His shudders ceased. He kissed his little brother’s brow as the pounded continued.
Calmly, he looked up at Ralph. “I won’t. For once, you will have to live with the consequences.”
Ralph’s mouth trembled as he turned and numbly walked to the door, the muffled shouts growing in volume as fists beat against it. Miles focused his attention on the dead brother cradled in his arms. He thought quickly. He could tell on Ralph, ruining his life, but would Tony want that? His sweet brother had given his life to protect Miles. His gut told him Tony wouldn’t want Ralph to suffer. Tony had always been more forgiving, which is why he would have made for an excellent vicar. As it was, Ralph would always have to live with the fact that he had shot his brother.
No, he would tell them it was an accident. Spare Ralph from the world knowing that he shot and killed his own brother.
He glanced to the door and saw Ralph unlock it. It was immediately pushed back. The Duke of Winslow stormed into the room.
“What in God’s name . . .” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Miles holding an unmoving Tony.
Their mother rushed in and came to a halt at the sight. Her piercing shrieks nearly burst Miles’ eardrums.
“It was an accident,” he said as Winslow slowly approached.
Before he could say another word, Ralph shouted, “Miles shot Tony!”
His eyes cut to his surviving brother. “No, I didn’t. You shot him. You know you did. But it was an accident,” he said calmly.
By now, the duchess had fallen to her knees. She yanked Tony from Miles’ embrace and held him to her chest, blood smearing her pearl gray gown.
“My boy. My sweet, sweet boy,” she moaned, rocking back and forth with the dead boy as she sobbed.
Tony had always been her favorite of the three of them, just as Ralph had always been favored by the duke, leaving Miles out in the cold.
His father strode across the room and jerked Miles to his feet. “How could you?” he asked harshly. “Blame your brother for . . . this.”
Anger flared within him. “I didn’t kill Tony,” he said.
Winslow released him, only to backhand him so hard that it knocked Miles to the ground. His cheek screamed in pain. He lifted his hand to it and felt warm blood, realizing his father’s signet ring had sliced open his flesh. Instantly, he knew the injury would leave a scar—a reminder of the day his brother died.
“I didn’t shoot Tony,” he said stubbornly.
Winslow struck him again, this time with his fist. Blood spurted from Miles’ nose as he stumbled backward, bumping into a chair.
The duke grabbed him by the shoulders, his fingers digging into Miles’ flesh.
“You did this,” he insisted. “You killed my son. The least you could do is be a man and accept the blame.”
Ralph stepped close. “No, Father, I am the one to blame.”
Relief swept through him. Finally, Ralph would straighten things out.
“I shouldn’t have taken the pistol,” Ralph continued. “If I hadn’t, then Miles never would have grabbed it from my hand.” He hung his head, his gaze falling to the ground. “I am the one responsible for Tony’s death.”
The duke shoved Miles away and put comforting arms about his heir. “No, my dear boy. You aren’t responsible for this reprehensible act. I won’t hear of it.”
Shock filled him. Ralph wasn’t owning up to his actions. Nothing had changed. Only this time, Miles would be blamed for the death of his beloved brother.
“I did not kill my brother,” he insisted.
Winslow glared at him, hate filling his dark eyes. “Deny it all you want. You are a monster. You have killed my boy and tried to blame my heir for your carelessness.”
The duchess wailed loudly and collapsed. Her maid and a footman helped her to her feet and led her from the room.
The butler stepped forward. “What shall I do, Your Grace? Send for the authorities? The doctor?”
“Her Grace certainly needs a physician. As for the magistrate?” The duke gave Miles a withering look. “Ask him to come at once, Sevill.” He looked at the remaining servants hovering in the doorway. “This was an accident. Miles was playing with my gun and it went off, tragically killing Anthony. Is that understood?”
The servants nodded collectively and quickly vanished. Only the butler remained.
“Send for both men now.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Winslow turned to Miles. “As for you? You are to be locked in your room and remain there until I see fit for you to leave.” He glanced to the butler. “Escort the boy there now. Place a footman outside so he doesn’t attempt to leave. Bread and water only. Once a day.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Sevill’s eyes narrowed. “Come along, Lord Miles,” he ordered brusquely.
He ignored the instructions and went to Tony’s body. Pulling his brother up, he kissed his brow and then lowered him to the ground again.
As he passed Ralph, he noted the look of triumph the marquess wore. He brushed past Ralph, slamming his shoulder into Ralph, who hissed as a snake.
“Murderer,” his brother said, so softly that no one else heard.
Miles stormed from the room and raced up the stairs, running down the corridor and slamming his door. He threw himself onto his bed and began to sob.
Tony was gone. He was never coming back.
And the world would think Miles had killed him.