The Duke's Twin novel Chapter 1

England, May 1821

"Miles, you must save me."

Miles Beresford folded down the edges of his newspaper and met the harried gaze of his twin brother, Justin, who was standing in the doorway of Miles's study. No matter that they'd grown up together as children, it still shocked him to come face-to-face with Justin, given how much they looked alike. Though they'd been born only minutes apart and were mirror images of each other, their temperaments couldn't have been more different.

Justin, the elder, was all decency and goodness. A fair man, a pleasant man. Miles, on the other hand... He snickered at the thought of how anyone would describe him.

Unruly, a bounder, a rogue, devilish. He was even known to make matchmaking mamas faint dead away when he walked into a ballroom. None could deny he had a good head for business, and any decent Englishman respected someone who was good at business.

"Save you, brother? What have you gone and done now? Save a house of orphans who now want you to adopt them all? Rescue a nest of kittens from a tree and now they live under your bed, keeping you up with their cries? Carry a pretty young damsel miles in the rain after she twisted her ankle and now she wants to marry you?"

Justin frowned, his dark-brown eyes holding no glint of their usual humor at Miles's teasing. "I'm quite serious, Miles. I need your help."

It was normal for Miles to tease his brother about being such a stand-up gentleman. Justin was the eldest brother, the Duke of Wiltshire. They both bore the name of Beresford, but when their father had passed on five years ago, Justin had become the duke, and therefore everyone but Miles called him Lord Wiltshire or, if they were very close friends, just Wiltshire.

"Is it serious, then?" If his sensible brother truly needed rescuing of some kind, then that was sure to be genuine trouble. He raised a brow and waited for his brother to elaborate. Usually Miles was the one who needed saving, which meant, unfortunately, that he owed his brother a favor. Or, more accurately, several dozen. He'd lost count over the years. Such was the price of being the rogue of the family and not the gentleman.

Justin shifted restlessly on his feet. "I have guests arriving shortly."

"At Wiltshire Manor?" Miles asked.

As a duke, Justin often hosted house parties, but he rarely needing rescuing from them. He was the perfect sort of man to host a delightful dinner, a musical gala, or even a vigorous fox hunt. This made Miles infinitely curious as to what sort of guests would strike fear in the heart of his sociable and likable brother.

The look of consternation upon his face filled Miles with curiosity. He set the paper down on his desk and leaned forward. The study in which they sat was quiet, the only sound being the tick of the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. Miles may have been a rogue, but he kept his estate, Beresford House, orderly and comfortable, even if it was a bachelor residence. More often than not, Justin would ride over from Wiltshire Manor in the morning, and the two of them would share breakfast and catch each other up on news.