Dev’s father, the duke’s younger and only brother, was most likely in residence, as would be distant cousins, aunts, uncles, and other various types of relations, mostly hailing from the duchess’ side of the family.
Not that they had need to do so, but with so many otherwise unused chambers, it made little sense to take lodgings elsewhere. Prescott House was something of a palace, rather than a mere mansion, large enough for any or all of them to reside inside for days without seeing one another.
That being said, whenever he was in town, since reaching his majority, Dev rented private bachelor’s quarters.
He preferred a modicum of independence to the constant interference of meddling relatives. Although he had no quarrels with his aunt or uncle, he preferred, on principal, that he not be under the duke’s thumb any more so than necessary. He’d seen the effects it could have upon a man. His own father, although a man of independent means, seemed to defer to the duke’s wishes more often than not. Whether this was due to outright agreement or a sense of indebtedness, Dev was not certain. He preferred not discover such a propensity firsthand.
“Captain Brookes.” The longstanding butler, Mr. Evans, damned near stood at attention when he opened the door to admit him. Evans, Dev had learned, had once been a military man and would forever maintain his respect for the dignity of the vocation. “Out of uniform, today, Captain?” he inquired pleasantly, but in surprise.
Dev owed no explanation to servants but nodded and winked at the man. “A disguise, Evans. Ladies are mad for the uniform, you know.” And then, wanting to complete his task as quickly as possible, he said, “Is my father with his grace?”
Mr. Evans nodded affirmatively. “They are not alone, Captain. The duchess, Lord St. John, and Lord Harold joined them not thirty minutes ago.”
Dev pinched his lips together. “A family meeting, eh?”
“I would not know, Captain,” Evans answered predictably.
Dev grimaced and took his time as he sauntered up the stairs and down the familiar corridor.
The door was partially ajar, so he entered unannounced.
“—not necessary to hasten a wedding date.” His cousin Harold’s serious and somber voice carried across the large chamber. Harry spoke as though it were to be a funeral. Surely Harold wasn’t referring to his own wedding?
“Who’s to be wed?” he asked, not bothering to be welcomed into the conversation.
His father and their graces turned satisfied faces toward him as he strolled into the room. His father eyed him warily, noticing immediately, Dev was sure, the absence of his uniform.
“Devlin, my boy.” Prescott glanced up from the papers he’d been perusing. “Harold is betrothed. You’d know this already if you’d bothered stopping by when your regiment returned.”
Good Lord! Harold betrothed?
“This is true, Harry?” Devlin propped himself upon the arm of one of the long leather couches arranged precisely along the lines of an ancient heirloom rug. “Anyone I know?”
“Not unless you’ve been frequenting Almack’s,” St. John interjected, sounding as dry and as bored as usual. Lucas Brookes, the Marques St. John, was Harold’s older brother and Prescott’s heir. He’d been standing in the shadows, preparing to take some snuff.
Almack’s. That was one venue Dev would avoid at all costs.
An image of a petite blonde with porcelain skin intruded into his thoughts. “Not yet, cousin.”She’dprobably landed her fiancé there.
“Dev, so wonderful of you to visit. Where have you been hiding?” Floating over in a cloud of perfume, his aunt placed one hand upon his arm and offered her cheek. “You’ve been in London over a fortnight, yet you’ve only just now come to reassure your family of your safe return. Naughty boy.”
“My apologies, Aunt. I’ve been finalizing my latest assignment… and other things…” he trailed off. This was only one of the reasons he chose not to reside at Prescott House.
His father raised a brow. “Colonel Harris’ duel being one of them?” Of course. The duel.
Duels were no longer legal. But when one’s colonel requested a man to act as second for him…
“And other matters.”
“I’d have seconded Harris if he’d asked me. Well done of you, Dev.” St. John spoke up from the shadows again. “Kensington’s actions were appalling. I understand Harris has been forced to send Alice away. She’s utterly ruined.”
Dev would not expand on that. He’d since learned that Alice, the Colonel’s wronged daughter, had not led the chaste life her father had believed. Perhaps it was best for her to be away from London. Get into less trouble that way.
Dev, though, was curious about his younger cousin’s earlier words. “Harold? A bridegroom? I am all astonishment.”
But Harold did not meet his eyes and laugh as Dev expected. “We haven’t set a date.” From Harold’s tone of voice, his younger cousin was none-too-anxious for the happy event. “I’d prefer a small ceremony at Eden’s Court, after the Season’s end, but their graces wish to hold the nuptials here in London.”
“Your fiancée has no opinion on this?” Most women, to his knowledge, were much involved in these sorts of details. And likely the chit would want all pomp and circumstance possible. She was marrying into a duke’s family, after all. What debutante would not wish to share the spectacle of her good fortune with all of London?
