She looked up from her lap, forced out of her most private thoughts. “I am. And I agree with your logic. I shall attend the musicale tomorrow evening, but only if you accompany me.”
“What?”
“The invitation is addressed to anyone and their guest. You will be my guest.”
Willa stood. “It would be my pleasure, but I do not have a gown to wear.”
Julia laughed and shook her head. “You will not get out of this that easily. You must come home with me tonight. My maid will happily alter whatever gown of mine you choose.”
Though the two were similar in height, Willa had a slighter build. Where Julia had full breasts and hips, her friend had a delicate form.
“Well?” Julia prodded.
“Yes, of course I’ll go!”
Chapter Three
Bloody impertinent woman…he’d been perfectly content shopping and enjoying the rare, cloudless day when all of a sudden, he was chased down like a common criminal by a gaggle of uncontrollable women. Then, seeking sanctuary, instead of finding a peaceful place to catch his breath, he ended up in the company of a bluestocking—a beautiful one who chose to masquerade as a commoner, though he could see through her poorly planned guise with his eyes closed!
Alonzo ended up at White’s with a glass of whiskey. He took a seat at his favorite table. Every man who walked by acknowledged his presence but steered clear of joining him. Until his friend, Damien Rochester, the Duke of Wrath, dared to approach with a glass of wine in his hand.
“A bit early in the day to drink, even for you, old chap,” Damien said.
Alonzo gestured for him to sit.
“Has London’s most famous songbird finally lost his voice?”
“Shut up, Damien,” he said, setting his glass down hard. “The reason for my untimely indulgence is due to a rare sort of creature I encountered today. A creature who could vex me—hell, any man—every day if allowed.”
Damien rolled his eyes, crossed his legs, and took another drink. “Do tell.”
There was something wonderful about being a duke, and whenever Alonzo was fortunate enough to spend time with his closest friends, Damien and Graham, the Earl of Ganes, he felt at ease, especially after being gone as long as he had been.
“The kind of creature you marry and reproduce with, or the type you sate your animal lusts with?”
He considered his friend of twenty years. They had attended Eaton together and discovered and experienced innumerable pleasures as young bucks making their marks on Town.
“Perhaps both,” he answered, rotating his empty glass over and over again.
“Such a vessel does not exist,” Damien assured him.
“I have always disagreed with you on that point, Damien.”
“And what benefits has that disagreement brought you?”
“Unlike you,” Alonzo said, “I can afford to bide my time in choosing a wife.”
“But a wife you shall have.”
Their gazes met. “Eventually,” Alonzo admitted. “Every duke needs an heir.”
“Every duke requires a mistress or two.” Damien signaled for another round of drinks. “At the moment, I believe you have neither.”
“It is pointless to discuss it further.” Alonzo had spent two years on the Continent with a different woman in his bed every month. If he chose to take a much-needed respite in order to find the perfect mistress, something he had planned before his return home, his friend should support his decision. “I will not settle for just any woman in my bed now that I plan on staying in England.”
Damien’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
“Yes,” he said. “It is time to accept my responsibility and start acting as a duke should.”
