Cassin chuckled. “Hopeful. As much as we enjoy your company, Alaric, I don’t think a man exists who would ever admit to being truly comfortable in your…” His eyes flashed with mischief. “… less than warm presence.” He shuddered purposefully. “Is there a breeze in here? Oh no, wait. That’s just Alaric’s chilly temperament.”
“Give me an excuse,” Ronan grumbled as he took a swig from his tankard of ale. “He’s been chatting like a fishwife since he arrived. Giving me a damnable headache.” Ronan was a gruff sort, horribly scarred across the face from a wartime injury,unconcerned that it gifted him with a frightening allure which increased tenfold whenever he chose to speak.
“We thought you might have been preoccupied,” Eastmoor said simply. His first name was Sebastian, but nobody ever called him that. He was a cool, dispassionate fellow who was as ruthlessly intelligent as he was cunning and unscrupulous.
“Ah, yes,” Cassian chuckled. “Blissfully in love. Besotted and distracted, such that Alaric doesn’t have time for his dear old friends.” He pretended to pout. “Truly, man, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It is not like that,” Alaric snapped. “I thought you, of all people, would know me better.”
“I thought that we did,” Cassian laughed.
“I figured she has something over you,” Ronan grumbled.
“Shall I do some digging?” Eastmoor asked with a cool smile. “See if I can find something on this… what was her name?” He looked about the table of men. “Lady Tremayne. Perhaps some pressure applied, and she will change her mind.”
“I thought one look at Alaric would have done that for her,” Cassian hooted, to which Ronan chuckled along.
“It is not like that,” Alaric growled and fixed the three men with a warning glare. “Now, can we drop it?”
“Not on your life,” Cassian said. “Tell us, Alaric. And no lies, for I will know if you fib. What in the name of King Edward is going on?”
It was a good question. A question that Alaric had known he’d have to answer upon coming here. And he had his reasons prepared, ones he knew these men would swallow.Even if I have to force them down their gullets. But they were half-truths at best, lies that Alaric had spent a week convincing himself of.
The men whom Alaric had come here to meet were… not friends, as that word felt too comfortable. Rather, they were peers of his, allies formed in a world where such things were needed for political convenience and advancement. Each man was a duke, and each man was of the type of character that most would do well to avoid the company of. They knew it too, which is why they had dubbed themselves the Wicked Dukes Society.A name coined by Cassian but embraced by all. A little too accurate, truth be told.
They were ambitious and judgmental. And he had known that they would take much convincing before supporting his marriage.
“The marriage is one of convenience only,” he assured them each. “Obviously, it is not a love match.”
“Whose convenience?” Eastmoor asked.
“Mine,” Alaric snapped. “You each know the pressure I am under from Parliament – those uppity bastards trying to rob me of myinheritance.” Indeed, a bill was currently being discussed aimed at re-examining certain land divisions, which, if things went against Alaric, would see him lose hundreds of acres worth of land and the money that went with it. Land that belonged to him! “A marriage is an assurance to those on the fence that I am worth backing on the floor. It suggests stability and reliability. It is strategic and nothing more.”
That was the half-truth that he had spent the week convincing himself of. It was easy enough to believe, too, as the logic was sound and made perfect sense. Enough that he was able to sleep with his decision, anyhow.
“True, true,” Eastmoor mused. “Although do not take us for fools, Alaric.”
“What do you mean?”
“The scandal,” Cassian chortled. “Do not think we did not hear of it. You pretend that politics is why you married, but we all know it was to avoid too many eyes falling across your brooding shoulders.”
“Oh, well, yes, obviously that was also considered.”
“I do wonder how long you have been ruminating on this little plan,” Cassin continued with a wicked grin. “Is that why you approached her at the Ashworth Ball? Very clever, if so.”
Alaric grimaced. “Yes, of course. It was always part of the plan.”
“Very clever,” Cassin chuckled.
“It still doesn’t make sense to me,” Ronan grumbled. “Not by half.” He fixed Alaric with a stern, no-nonsense gaze made all the more morose by the scars across his face. “Weren’t you always saying that you never intended to marry again? After what happened with Helena, you swore off it like a priest does the drink.”
Alaric winced at the mention of Helena’s name.Even after all this time, it still hurts to hear…
“Easy now,” Eastmoor said. “There is no need for that, Ronan.”
“Just reminding him of his own words.”
“I know what I said,” Alaric said, making sure to harden his gaze on Ronan. Despite the man’s scars and gruff exterior, Alaric was still the power at this table, and he needed the others to know it. “And I assure you, it will not be an issue. This marriage is to last a year at most, and then we will live respectably and separately. There are to be no children. No emotional entanglements of any kind. She will live with me, but that is as close as she and I will become to a true marriage.”
