Alex grinned. “Don’t try to gammon me, Patrick. You’re longing to go to that coronation. You’d never -turn down the opportunity to travel to the Ottoman Empire.”

“You’re right, of course.” Now Patrick grinned, the smile lighting up the stern lines of his cheekbones. “I heard quite a lot about Selim when I was in Lhasa.” Patrick had spent four years traveling in Tibet, India, and Persia.

“Oh? What’s he like?”

Patrick grinned again. “A proper little poseur, Selim is. At that time he was making a tour of European capitals. He drove his father mad by importing all kinds of European customs, clothing, and women back to Constantinople.”

“Do you think that he really might throw his army behind Napoleon?”

“I think it’s likely,” Patrick replied, his mouth tightening.

They had reached their waiting carriages.

“You know, little brother,” Alex said mockingly, “you now outrank me.”

Patrick looked startled for a moment. Then his eyes lit up. “Damned if you’re not right! You’re a mere earl and I’m a duke!”

Alex laughed. Between the brothers there had always been mutual agreement that Alex’s title was a useless encumbrance.

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “If I’d been a duke last month, she would have accepted me,” he said, voice dagger sharp.

Alex knew exactly whom he was talking about. He shook his head. “Lady Sophie is not that kind of woman, Patrick.” Sophie York was his wife’s closest friend; Alex didn’t know why she had refused to marry his brother, but he doubted that her refusal stemmed from Patrick’s lack of a title.

“Then why did she accept Braddon? Braddon!” Patrick’s tone was savage.

“I didn’t think you were quite so interested in Lady Sophie’s future.” Alex watched his brother’s face intently.

Patrick didn’t pay any attention. “Braddon is fat, foolish, and has approximately one-third the money I have. But he’s an earl, Alex. He’s one of our honored nobility.”

“You’re not being fair,” Alex pointed out. “She may love him.”

Patrick snorted derisively. “Love! There isn’t a woman in the ton who believes in such a foolish notion!” Then he added, rather hastily, “except Charlotte, of course.”

Alex smiled at the mention of his wife but he said again, “I didn’t think you were so interested in Lady Sophie, Patrick.”

“I’m not.” Patrick shrugged. “She can do as she likes.” He met his brother’s eyes ruefully. “But I’m a sore loser, Alex. No one knows that better than you. It galls me to have lost out because Braddon has a title and I do not.”

Alex was silent for a second. He didn’t see any point in insisting that Sophie York had chosen Braddon for some other reason. Who knows? Maybe she did want to be a countess.

“Are you going to the Dewland ball tonight?”

“I hadn’t thought of it,” Patrick replied. “But I’m having supper with Braddon tonight and he’ll want to go on to the ball afterwards.” He met Alex’s eyes again. “I expect he’s going to ask me to be his best man,” Patrick said, an ironic twist to his lips.