CHAPTER 1
“Good morning! How are you doing today?”
The only person who could ruin Evan’s good mood was his adoptive brother bursting through the door of his study. Before that, Evan Locke, the Duke of Blackwell, was having an exceptionally good Saturday morning in Blackwell Manor.
He was enjoying his breakfast in his study as sunlight poured through the windows. It was a rare sunny day in London, and he was considering taking advantage of the good weather by going for a walk around the gardens.
Then Peter Swinton burst through his doors and effectively ruined the mood. He had a wide grin on his face, as usual. No matter the time of day, the man was almost always smiling. “I said good morning, Evan!” he said. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it?”
Evan sighed. “Peter, how many times have I told you that you cannot just barge in here? There is a wonderful concept called knocking. Perhaps you should ask one of the servants to teach you since you are still incapable yourself.”
“Charming as ever, aren’t you? And here I was hoping to catch you in a good mood.” Peter sat down in the chair across from the duke’s desk. “Why are you moping in your study, anyway? The Season has not begun yet, so I know you don’t have any matters of Parliament to take care of.”
“I was in here for the peace and quiet, which you have pointedly eliminated.” Evan gestured to the teapot on his desk. “Help yourself, if you wish.” He could never truly be cross with Peter. He was one of the few people that Evan truly considered a friend. Perhaps theonlyperson he considered a friend.
“Tea would be lovely, thanks.” Peter poured himself a cup. Despite the smile on his face, there was a nervous energy about him. He tapped his fingers lightly on his knee as he sipped his tea. Evan knew he was not merely here for a chat.
“Is there any reason in particular that you wanted to catch me in a good mood?” Evan kept his facial expression and voice controlled, but he was already steeling himself for whatever unpleasant business had emerged since he woke up this morning.
“Yes, indeed. It has come to my attention that our dear grandmother has been scheming.”
Evan suddenly felt tired. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did she do now?” Even as he asked the question, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the dowager duchess was scheming about. It was the same issue she wanted to address every year.
Peter gave him an apologetic look. “She made a list of all the eligible ladies of thetonfor you to meet. She wants you married by the end of the Season.”
The duke sighed. “Of course she did.” His grandmother had been pestering him for the past three years to get married. She grew more determined every Season.
Peter took another sip of tea. “I did manage to cross out one or two of the names, based on your tastes, but there are at least two dozen ladies on the list.”
Evan glared at him. “You mean to tell me you knew about this and didn’t stop her?”
Peter raised his hands in surrender. “You know how she can be.”
The duke sighed. “Yes, I do.” He ran a hand over his face, already dreading the endless encounters with all the ladies of theton.He had no plans to marry anytime soon, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to marry at all. But that didn’t stop the dowager duchess.
“She is worried for you. For both of us. She wants us to be settled before she…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.He didn’t need to, however. Evan knew exactly what he was implying.
The two men were so wrapped up in their conversation, they didn’t realize the subject of their discussion had entered the room until she spoke.
“That’s right,” Martha Locke, the Dowager Duchess of Blackwell, broke the silence, causing them both to jump. She strode into the room, looking as regal as ever, even in a slightly wrinkled morning gown. “I want to see my great-grandchildren before I die, and clearly, you need a push in that direction if that’s to happen.” She arched an eyebrow at Evan. “Judging from the look on your face, one would think I was asking you to shoot yourself on the foot with a hunting rifle, instead of asking you to converse with the opposite sex.”
“Good morning, Grandmother,” Evan said blandly. “I trust you slept well.”
“Of course, my dear. But do not think you can distract me from the matter at hand. Need I remind you that you will have no one after I die? Humans are not meant to be alone, even if you are determined to prove otherwise.”
“Excuse me, but the last time I checked, I was a human as well,” Peter said, smiling. “Evan and I will always have each other.”
The dowager duchess turned to face him as her hands went to her hips. “You could do with finding a bride for yourself, Peter. You are not getting any younger, you know.”
Regret and a dash of panic flitted across Peter’s face, and Evan could not help but smile slightly. “She’s right about that,” he said, unable to help himself. “You are only a couple of years younger than me.”
“Yes, but I am not a duke, am I? I am your steward. I don’t even have any noble blood, so what does it matter if I marry?”
Their grandmother scoffed. “Peter, that has never mattered to me for a single day since you arrived at the manor, and you know it. I want great-grandchildren, and if Evan will not deliver, then it will be up to you.”
Peter threw his arms up in the air. “How didmymarital status become the subject when we have the Duke of Ice sitting right here?”
Evan snorted and took a sip of his tea. “Is that what the gossip rags are calling me now?”
