Prologue
December 1810, English Channel
When faced with certain death, people’s true nature often showed itself, with perhaps a dash of desperation added to the mix. Which was how Leonard came to be watching a veritable farce play out before him.
“I am done with this life of adventure,” Thomas Denby shouted, his red hair matted to the back of his head. “I swear it, on my life, I shall marry the first woman I see when we dock.”
“If we dock,” Leonard grumbled.
The lantern shifted, causing an eerie light to creep about the cramped cabin. It was Leonard, Rowan, and Ambrose’s sleeping quarters, but the lot of them decided if they were going to die, at least they would die together. Now the room, which already had an unpleasant odor, was overcrowded, stuffy, and even more unappealing than before. Not to mention the raging storm outside making even the simple act of sitting difficult. Several times, Leonard had to push his hands against the bed to keep his place.
“Whenwe dock,” Thomas continued, the man’s mannerisms practically maniacal, “I will be the first of any of you louts to marry.”
Leonard held in a scoff. He had no desire to marry. But if this little wager kept his friends distracted, then he would agree for their sake.
The walls of their packet ship groaned under the weight of the storm, and Leonard eyed the wooden planks, as if his gaze could force them to withstand the force. “Fine chance of that,” he goaded his friend, peeling his eyes from the worrisome walls and looking back at Thomas. “I swear on my life, you will not be the first. Last, perhaps.”
Another wave thrashed their boat, and Rowan slammed back into his bunk. Leonard watched his friend in the spot beside him, and for a moment, his worry overcame his frustration.
“And if I am—” Thomas paused as a particularly dangerous wave rocked them all to the side. “I shall pay forfeit. One hundred pounds to each of you! And you can pay me one hundred pounds when you are last.”
Leonard hardly spoke a word amongst the chaos that ensued. It was likely that Leonard would either die tonight on this very ship, or he would end up taking his brother’s place as heir. In which case, six hundred pounds would not be so hard to come by.
The dark thought should have made Leonard feel guilty. But how could it when the sentiment had been driven into his mind since he was only ten years old?
Leonard tried to sit up, but when he did, another wave hit their ship and threw him into the wall. One by one his friends agreed to the wager—Rowan, Charles, Tristan, Ambrose, and Andrew. There was a desperation to cling to life propelling their words. Though, Leonard was quite certain none of them would everhave need to marry. For it would take a miracle for them to make it out of this.
Chapter One
September 1816, London
The allure of London was something that Leonard would never understand. It felt cramped, overcrowded, loud, busy, and altogether suffocating. His current residence here was only to appease his father, who, despite Leonard’s adamant protestations, insisted this was the only place to find a decent bride. In other words, London would procure the wealthiest of young ladies who had been trained for this very moment. Years of practice in dancing, manners, how to hold their head just right to appear demure yet enticing to gentlemen, all to showcase them during a season in London. It seemed rather silly to him, but Leonard’s father insisted that this was the place to be until he ‘stopped acting like an immature buck’ and decided to settle down.
And Leonard had tried to find a wife—though, admittedly, half-heartedly. It was rather humbling when a woman took a passing glance, then chose someone with a cheerier disposition to converse with. Humbling, but understandable.
“Leonard!”
He jerked his head toward his friend’s voice. “What?”
Mr. Langford, or Andrew to those who had worked with him for a number of years, heaved a weary sigh. “You are not focused.” He brushed a dark strand of hair that had fallen out of place back into order.
Leonard huffed a breath and took a passing glance about his friend’s office. Andrew sat behind his desk, centered in the room with bookshelves towering behind him and anchoring the space. Dark paneling covered the lower half of the other three walls, with a green papering above which boasted some sort of print. Leonard really wasn’t good with such things, though he was sure Andrew knew the precise name for it.
“I apologize, Andrew,” Leonard replied. “My mind keeps wandering to other matters.” Like the idiotic wager his friends had forced upon him. Andrew being one of them and the second of them to procure a wife. Now all the men were married, leaving Leonard the one holding the bill. “Can you please say it in terms that are straight forward? I fear my mind is not up to the intricacy of numbers today.”
Andrew rubbed at his brow. “As I was saying, I do not think it prudent to remove funds from your investments at the moment. They are doing well, and if you withdraw them, it will take some time to rebuild to what you previously had. Especially that large of a sum.”
Leonard gritted his teeth, his boot bouncing on the floor. “I need six hundred pounds. You know this better than anyone. And I don’t know how else to get it.”
“You could ask your father.” Andrew’s tone was as dry as a week-old biscuit.
Ask his father indeed.
Leonard gave his head a hard shake, then rubbed his mouth. “You know that is not an option.”
“Yes, because you are a very stubborn man.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know he would hold it over my head. Or, worse, make me beg.”
