If he had hoped Ewan would smile at his jesting, he was disappointed. Instead, Ewan wrote, “I’m your friend. Can’t you tellme?”
Baldwin squeezed his eyes shut. How often had he wished to tell his friends about his position? Especially as the dire straights he was in became more and more clear. He knew he would find their support and sympathy if he spilled his secrets.
But he would also find their judgment. For how could they not judge him? He’d made things worse by acting just like his father. He didn’t want them to know that while he pretended to be honorable and decent and settled that he was a wastrel.
And beyond that, he also knew that if he whispered to Ewan the truth, Donburrow would immediately offer help—in the form of blunt. So would all of his friends. And that humiliation was perhaps worse than he could bear. To have his friends heap charity upon him, to have them talk about him behind his back in subdued, mournful tones, to owe them more than he did just for their friendship?
No, he had some pride left.
“It’s nothing, I assure you,” Baldwin said softly, turning his face so that Ewan wouldn’t press.
His friend let out a sigh, but if he intended to pry further, he was cut off when Charlotte called out, “Do stop glowering in the corner, you two, and come join us.”
Ewan gave Baldwin one last look. One that needed no written translation. A look that told Baldwin that Ewan was there for him. That he would help if it were needed.
Baldwin clapped him on the shoulder. “I know,” he said. “Now come on. You should know better than most that my sister will not be denied.”
Ewan’s face brightened a bit and they walked together to join the ladies for their tea. With great effort Baldwin shook off the resentments, he shook off the weight on his shoulders. The first ball of the Season was in two days. Until then, he was going to enjoy his last few hours of freedom.
Until then, he was going to do his damnedest to forget what the future held. And what he was bound to do in order to save it for them all.
Chapter Two
The Rockford Ball had been the launch of every Season for five years running. Lady Rockford took great pleasure in choosing themes and dressing her poor servants in livery to match them. This year she’d chosen a fairyland as her theme and had draped her ballroom in gauzy blues and greens. Her footmen were styled much the same, and from their frowns and blank expressions, they did not enjoy the small wings that had been affixed to their attire.
Baldwin might have smiled at the silly display, but at present he was surrounded by friends—married friends. The Dukes of Abernathe, Crestwood, Northfield and Donburrow were all waxing poetic about wives and home lives and, in James’s case, children.
“How is little Beatrice?” Simon, Duke of Crestwood asked. “I see you finally convinced Emma to leave her alone for a night.”
James, Duke of Abernathe, arched a brow. “You saw Bibi yesterday. She is little changed since then. Though she’s perfect, so thank you for inquiring. And I can see Emma watching the time even from across the room, but she frets for nothing.”
Baldwin followed James’s loving stare to find Emma standing with Charlotte, Simon’s wife Meg and Graham’s wife Adelaide. They were laughing together, fast friends. Would any woman he chose for her purse fit into their set? And if she didn’t, would he slowly be eased out of their circle?
“What are you frowning about?” Graham, Duke of Northfield, asked as he jostled Baldwin’s shoulder gently.
Baldwin scowled playfully. “I just don’t understand how I came to be sucked into the circle of old married dukes. I’m still free.”
The others chuckled, but Baldwin saw Simon and James exchange a brief look. His chest tightened at the sight of it.
“There is a rumor, you know, that you are intent on finding a match this Season,” Simon said.
Baldwin arched a brow. “And who started this dastardly rumor?”
The group turned toward Ewan en masse, and he shrugged and raised his hand without so much as a sheepish expression.
Baldwin folded his arms. “Let me guess. My mother told my sister, who told you, and you told Simon, who told everyone because he has a big mouth?”
Simon glared, and Graham laughed, “That is essentially the line of progression, yes.”
Baldwin rolled his eyes and fought desperately not to have the truth of his situation revealed by his reaction. “Well, there is no use trying to hide it. It’s true. I do intend on finding a wife this Season. It’s time.”
Graham pressed his lips together. “Time really has nothing to do with it. Marry when it’s right, not when it’s time.”
Ewan nodded enthusiastically as James said, “Truly, Graham is right. Marry for love, Baldwin. You deserve all the happiness your friends have found and even more.”
Baldwin shoved his suddenly sweaty hands behind his back and forced a smile. They meant well, after all. They didn’t know the truth.
“Well, I’ll certainly take your advice into consideration,” he said. “You know everyone is in town at present. Well, everyone but Lucas. We should get together if you can separate yourselves from your wives.”
