Page 46 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

My tone is cool and clipped when I answer him. “Not in the slightest.” Though I am willing to make absurd conversation with my friends, Lewis is currently not among that lot. Until he and I eventually have it out, I consider him an acquaintance and nothing more.

“Come,” William persists. “You are not preparing yourself. What if Henhaven is a formidable foe?”

At that, I can’t help the bark of laughter that rips from my throat. “Him? Formidable? He’s one polished buckle away from being a fop.”

Lewis crosses his arms. “Do not underestimate fops. They could be putting on airs for appearance’s sake.”

“Not everyone is conniving and slippery like you,” I hiss. The others look between us, their gazes uneasy.

“And not everyone is a stubborn arse like you,” he says back.

“If you’ll allow me to be so rude, I must bid you all a good day. I have matters to attend to at White’s before I meet Henhaven at Jackson’s.”

The others laugh and follow me out, not giving me an ounce of space to think or even breathe. I certainly don’t have to go to White’s, but I do need an occupation that’s not reliant on my friends occupying the very air I take into my lungs.

As I mount Erebus, the others take to their horses, still talking and laughing amongst themselves. Even between them, they lay friendly bets on who will win and who will lose. Thankfully, my brother seems to understand the nature of this spar and has rightfully put his bet on me.

By the time I reach White’s, my heart pounds in my chest. It’s been several days since I’ve actually checked the betting books, so there might be a new entry of note. I meant to check yesterday while I was there, but found myself too preoccupied with that farce of a handwriting experiment that ended with no new information.

As I stride to the back, the others, thankfully, stay behind. There are several new entries, but that is to be expected. The Ton thrives on games, and they seem especially enamored with placing bets on any little thing that strikes their fancy.

Case in point, I nearly laugh out loud at the first bet that catches my eye.

27th May 1814

Angus Grant, Earl of Loxburn, wagers Jensen Stevens, Earl of Langwike, the sum of five guineas that it will rain Sunday next.

A. Grant J. Stevens

I skim over the rest, just to make sure none of them match the blackmailer. Still no luck. As I read the others, prepared to laugh at the preposterous nature of them, I find that my stomach turns.

29th May 1814

Luke Morris, Baron of Harhall, wagers Aston Wood, Earl of Kinwell, the sum of twenty guineas that the Duke of Norhaven attends the Campbell-Richardson wedding without incident.

L. Morris A. Wood

This one guts like a knife. Can all of London see the desire burning in my soul? Can they truly know the designs I have on the addicting Cynthia?

29th May 1814

Jensen Moore, Marquess of Blackford, wagers Elis Griffiths, Viscount of Oakwell, the sum of thirty guineas that Miss Campbell of Kirden enters her wedding to the Viscount of Henhaven with genuine felicity.

J. Moore E. Griffiths

Genuine felicity… No. If this wedding goes through, I’d wager nearly all my coin that she will cry her way down the aisle. The thought alone makes my blood boil and my vision waver. To know that she will be so miserable if I fail… It’s unconscionable.

Of course, the rest take a turn toward the match I have planned for today. I never expected it to be a secret, but I didn’t expect my friends to get in on the action behind my back. As of this morning, three bets lie on the books, the ink barely dry.

2nd June 1814

Benedict Fortescue, Duke of Portswell, wagers Joseph Harding, Duke of Foxford, the sum of fifteen guineas that the Duke of Norhaven will lose his match to the sprightly Viscount of Henhaven

B. Fortescue J. Harding

2nd June 1814

Robert Dowding, Duke of Blackport, wagers William Dowding, Duke of Birchleigh, the sum of twenty-five guineas that the Duke of Norhaven will, in fact, trounce the unwieldy Viscount of Henhaven.