PROLOGUE
London, July 1814
Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, was having a fine evening. True, that all his evenings were fine, as they usually included drinks with friends and then a jaunt to Hollister’s gaming hell where he often lost a small fortune in the span of a few hours. Tonight, he was enjoying the drinks-with-friends portion of the evening at the Curious Goat Inn. A decent little place outside of Mayfair where he and Kendall, Bell, and Clayton could drink and talk freely without being scrutinized by the other members of theton. The Curious Goat was much preferred to any of those stodgy gentlemen’s clubs on St. James’s Street.
Just before they’d entered the establishment, his friends had all exclaimed how glad they were to have him back to his old self. Until somewhat recently, he’d been someone different entirely. The headaches were a regular reminder. But that was something he didn’t relish thinking about, something he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.
Rhys was ordering his third ale of the evening from a comely barmaid when Kendall, of all unexpected people, blurted, “I think it’s time I find a wife.”
The heads of all three of them, himself, Bell, and Clayton, immediately snapped to face Kendall. They stared at the chap as if he’d lost his bloody mind.
Never at a loss for words, Rhys found his voice first. He winced, sucked in his breath, shook his head vigorously, and said, “Awife? Good God, man! There’s no need to rush into anything so…permanent.”
Kendall was a good man. After they’d all left Oxford together, Kendall had gone on to become a Commodore in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. But he hadn’t been gifted a commission by his father, the former earl. No. Kendall had worked his arse off. There was no one more diligent or more loyal. But the poor sop actually wanted awife. Kendall should know better after his last attempt at marriage with the disloyal Lady Emily Foswell. Had he forgotten about her defection?
“We’re not getting any younger,” Kendall shot back to Rhys.
“On the contrary,” Rhys replied, “at nine and twenty, we’re pups. My father was overfiftywhen I was born.”
His father had famously remained a bachelor for decades before settling down with his (much younger) mother, and dutifully producing Rhys. Of course, having begotten his heir, his father decided to continue his bachelor lifestyle, leaving Rhys’s resigned mother to her own amusements, of which she’d found plenty. As a result, Rhys had mainly been raised by servants, governesses, and tutors.
His father would return to the ducal estate upon occasion to see how Rhys was growing, to ensure his son understood the enormity of his title, and to give him advice about women that Rhys seriously doubted was sound.
It certainly hadn’t helped the one time that Rhys had come close to offering for a lady. A fate he’d narrowly escaped, having discovered the lady in question was interested in him only for his title.Thatwas something else he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.
Bell, or more correctly, BeaumontBellham, the Marquess of Bellingham, was the next to speak to Kendall. Bell might have been a bachelor, but the man was essentially married to his position as a spy in the Home Office. The fool had even tried to renounce his title for a spot as a soldier in the wars against France. Thank God, he’d been turned down in his request.
Instead, he’d been offered a position with the Home Office, where he was kept safe enough most of the time. Though Bell had been on some dangerous missions before and Rhys knew it.
Bell was clever, direct, and driven. If the man had any fault, it was that he worked too much, for Christ’s sake. The marquess needed to relax more than anyone Rhys had ever known, and Rhys told him that often enough. Instead of taking such sound advice, however, Bell attempted to tell Rhys thathemight try an honest day’s work instead of spending his time gaming and chasing women. Who neededthatsort of advice?
Bell narrowed his eyes on Kendall and said, “Are you certain you’re ready? It’s only been two years since….” Bell let his voice trail off, but they all knew he was talking about Lady Emily. The look on Kendall’s face told him to leave it alone.
Finally, Clayton exclaimed, “Thank heavens. I cannot wait until I’m no longer the only one of us with the parson’s noose around his neck.”
Rhys laughed at that. Clayton had recently got himself leg-shackled. On purpose. The viscount loved science and creating things. He was extremely wealthy, had yet to meet a stranger, and was an active member of Parliament. He was the last one they’d all thought would be first to marry. But even Rhys had to admit that marriage seemed to agree with the chap. Clayton had just returned from his honeymoon and he still appeared to be deeply in love with his wife, Theodora. Who knew? Perhaps love was a thing after all. At least for some gentlemen.
Rhys took a draught from his mug and glanced around at his three friends. The four of them had met at Eton as lads and stuck together come what may. Each of them played a unique role in their group.
These days Kendall was distracted by the bill he was trying to get passed in Parliament. The Employment Bill was a piece of legislation that his older brother had sponsored before dying of consumption and leaving the earldom to Kendall.
Bell was obsessed with chasing after a traitor who had betrayed the English army at Bidassoa in Spain, and Clayton was busy as usual, hosting parties and playing politics, the two things he did best.
Rhys was well aware that he was the devil-may-care ne’er-do-well of the lot. He kept up his steady stream of drinking, gambling, and chasing women. That was what thetonexpected of the Duke of Worthington, after all, and that’s what they got from him. He was one in a long line of dukes who spent more time seeing to their own pleasures than the details of their estates. That was what solicitors were for, after all, and Rhys had a fine solicitor. He even met with the man nearly daily to hear the boring details as to how his properties were running. What more could he be asked to do? Life was for living, after all, not keeping one’s head inside a tedious book of figures. Or any book for that matter. No matter how much Bell teased him for not reading, Rhys remained convinced just aboutanythingwas more fun.
Rhys had a head for figures, but instead of using it to run his estates, he used it at the gambling table. Only far too often he was too deep in his cups at the gambling table and he lost. But no matter. What was lost today might easily be won again tomorrow. That was the beauty of gaming. There was always a second chance. Quite unlike marriage.
If one made a bad marriage, one was stuck for life. And, as he’d learned, some women were nothing more than scheming liars looking to spear the biggest fish. And in their world, the glitteringbeau monde, the biggest fish meant the man with the best title. Outside of royalty, there was no better title than duke, of course.Thathad been drilled into Rhys’s head by his father from the time he was barely able to walk. Rhys had to be especially careful when it came to the fairer sex.
And he had been. Or so he thought.
Unlike Kendall, at least Rhys hadn’t actuallyofferedfor the woman he’d nearly fallen for. Rhys had always been suspicious of Lady Emily Foswell for Kendall’s sake, however. The woman had never seemed particularly pleased to see Kendall. And when she tossed him over on the eve of their wedding for a baron, Rhys had been incensed. Angrier, even, than Kendall himself.
Kendall, who, at the time, had been a second son in the Navy, had taken the news with a sort of resigned unhappiness, but Rhys, Rhys had been prepared to go find the woman and give her a speech on the importance of loyalty and the treachery of greed. Not thatheshould be lecturing anyone on anything, but Kendall had every right.
The one thing that consoled Rhys was the fact that now Lady Emily had to live the rest of her life knowing she’d inadvertently tossed over a future earl for a baron. Ha.
“I’m entirely serious,” Kendall continued. “I must look to secure the earldom. I fear I’ve been too preoccupied with the Employment Bill. I’ve been remiss waiting this long to find a bride.”
