“Thereyou are,” scolded his mother upon sight of him.“At least you look presentable, as always.Tonight, can youpleasetry to select a woman you can stand at least a little bit?And then make her your wife?”
He glared down his nose at her in disapproving silence.
She carried on, undaunted.“As soon as you take a bride, I can cease these infernal parties and spare us both.Dragging your feet only prolongs the torture.”
“Are you under the mistaken impression that whomever I choose as my future duchess is likely torefrainfrom entertaining guests?”
“At least she won’t be after you to hunt another bride,” Mother replied unrepentantly.“You’ll be free to glower unbecomingly in stony silence for the rest of your life.”
He grunted.“I’m free to do so now.Geoffrey sends his love, by the way.”
She stared at him.“Who the devil is Geoffrey?Would youpleasepay a modicum of attention to the problem at hand?Tonight we shall have in attendance four diamonds of the first water.The first girl who could make you a suitable bride is the lovely—”
The duke ceased listening.He’d already heard more than enough about angelic blonds and buxom twins from Geoffrey, who paid attention to such things.
Donovan hadtriedto.He’d spent every year of his time at Eton and Cambridge willing himself to give a damn about carousing and wenching, all without success.
He was not a complete buffoon.Donovan registered women’s relative attractiveness just as he noticed a pretty landscape or the cuteness of a baby duckling.Though he wouldn’t wish to leg-shackle himself to one of those, either.
“Announcing tonight’s first guests!”the butler’s voice rang out, interrupting the duchess’s lecture.
“Thank God,” Donovan muttered.
“Lord and Lady Bernard Sutcliffe!”boomed the butler.
The elegant couple swept into the ballroom smiling ear-to-ear, as was their wont.Unlike the duke, his brother Bernard and sister-in-law Sorcha adored functions such as this one, and would likely dance every set, including a scandalous number of waltzes with each other.
They hurried up to Donovan and the duchess to exchange pleasantries and air-kisses.
Whilst Sorcha gabbed animatedly with Donovan’s mother, his brother grabbed the duke by the shoulders.“I have marvelous news!”
Donovan doubted this immensely, and stiffened with trepidation.“Don’t wrinkle my sleeves.Just tell me.”
“As you may recall, May Day marks the anniversary of when I first laid eyes on my future bride.”
How could Donovan not recall?Bernard not only waxed on about this happy accident at length every time he imbibed an inch of port, but the romantic fool also hied off with his wife in tow every spring like clockwork, to spend a nostalgic week at the same May Day festival in a day’s drive away in Marrywell, where he and Sorcha had first met.
“It’s known as a matchmaking holiday for a reason,” Bernard said as he dug a conspiratorial elbow into Donovan’s perfectly tailored ribs.“Anyone suffering from an uninspiring season need only visit Marrywell during the May Day fertility festival in order to find themselves tumbling arse over teakettle in love.”
“As you and Sorcha did,” Donovan interrupted, in an attempt to hurry the worn-out story along.
“Asyouwill as well, big brother,” Bernard crowed.
Donovan froze.“What?”
“Sorcha and I will bring you along on this year’s pilgrimage.We’ll have an absolutely stupendous time.”
“I shan’t go.”
“No, of course you shan’t,” Bernard agreed.“Not if you choose a bride attonight’sball.But in the… dare I say,exceedinglylikely event… that none of the succulent sweets on display tempt your palate, there will be no choice but to fish in an alternate pond.As they say, if the mountain will not come to the Duke of Southbury…”
“You’re mixing your metaphors,” Donovan said dourly.
“And you, old chap, will soon be packing your bags,” Bernard replied cheerfully.“Or having your valet do it.”
“I won’t go,” the duke repeated.
“You have to.”His younger brother made an apologetic grimace, then played his trump card.“I’ve already promised Mother.”
