Prologue
London, July 1814
Lucas Drake, the fifth Earl of Kendall, was foxed. But only foxed, not an entire three sheets to the wind. And he should know. He spent more than a decade in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Lucas knew precisely how dangerous a situation it was to have three sheets to the wind. The sheet controls the sail, after all, and if the line is not secured, the sheet flops in the wind. If all three sails were loose, the ship would be out of control. Lucas was not out of control. Four mugs of watered-down ale at the Curious Goat Inn would not do that to a former sailor. He was foxed enough, however, to say, “I think it’s time I find a wife,” aloud, in the presence of all three of his closest friends.
As expected, he silenced his three companions. Worth, Bell, and Clayton immediately snapped to face him with varying expressions of alarm.
Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, was the first to find his voice. Worth was an excellent man at heart, but his horse’s arse of a father—God rest the former duke’s soul—had all but ruined him. Rhys took himself and his title too seriously. Competitive to a fault, especially when it came to gaming or women—both of which he usually won—the duke enjoyed the finer things in life and projected a devil-may-care attitude that only his close friends understood was a façade.
Worth’s reply to Lucas’s statement was to wince, suck in his breath, shake his head vigorously, and say, “A wife? Good God, man! There’s no need to rush into anything so…permanent.”
“We’re not getting any younger,” Lucas pointed out.
“On the contrary,” Worth replied, “at nine and twenty, we’re pups. My father was over fifty when I was born.”
The second head to turn and stare at Lucas was that of Beaumont Bellham, the Marquess of Bellingham. There was no finer patriot than Bell. The man had tried to renounce his title for a spot as a soldier in the wars against France. He’d been turned down in his request, however. Apparently, the Crown did not fancy its marquesses gallivanting across Europe being shot at. Instead, he’d settled for a position with the Home Office and did what he could by way of reconnaissance to help with the war effort on solid English soil. Bell was shrewd, detailed, and focused and was often accused by Worth of working too much. A charge Bell fully admitted to. He liked to tell Worth that he might try an honest day’s work instead of spending his time gaming and chasing women. Worth had yet to take such friendly advice.
Bell narrowed his eyes and said, “Are you certain you’re ready? It’s only been two years since….” Thank God the man ended his sentence there. Lucas wasn’t in any mood to discuss Emily. He never would be.
The third head to swivel toward Lucas was that of Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton. Clayton had recently got himself leg-shackled, and was just back from his honeymoon. Clayton had a mind for science and there were few things he liked better than experimenting and creating things. He was the kind of man you’d entrust your deepest secrets to. Rich as Croesus and loyal to a fault, Clayton loved his wife Theodora deeply and completely. He’d been the last one they’d all have thought would be the first to marry.
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.”
Lucas took another long draught from his mug and wiped the back of his hand across his lips. His role in their quartet was that of the peacekeeper and confidant. The four of them had met at Eton as lads and stuck together through all manner of hurdles.
Lucas’s main concern was, and had always been, duty. He’d spent his life trying to fulfill his duty to his father, his family, and the Crown. In that order. His years in the Navy had taught him responsibility, respect, and the importance of hard work. The death of his older brother Charles fourteen months ago had taught him the importance of living life to the fullest and fulfilling his promise. Before his death, Charles had been championing a bill before Parliament. On his deathbed, as consumption slowly pulled his life away, Charles had asked Lucas to ensure the bill was passed. “For the good of our estate,” Charles had said. “For the good of the country.” Lucas had promised his brother. If it was the last thing he did, he would ensure the Employment Bill passed.
Lucas would take a bullet for any one of his friends. He’d give his life for his country. He would walk across broken glass for his mother or sister. But finding a wife who would be true to him, who didn’t want him merely for his money or his title, that was something he couldn’t control. And he detested that fact.
Lucas glanced around at his three friends, who watched him as if he’d recently escaped from Bedlam. The rules of etiquette were different here at the Curious Goat Inn. The pub sat like a fat little duck on the corner of two streets in an area of London that was a goodly length from Mayfair, but not quite as far, status-wise, as the Rookeries. Here one could do things like get foxed, wipe the back of one’s hand across one’s lips, and say things like one was looking for a wife, without having to worry about mamas and maidens popping out of every nook and cranny in search of a husband with a title. Ever since he’d inherited the title, he’d been beset by such ladies at every turn.
“I’m entirely serious,” Lucas 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.”
“I certainly won’t disagree with you that you’ve been too preoccupied with the Employment Bill,” Worth drawled. “Obsessed is more like it.”
Lucas shrugged. “Well, now that the Lords have tabled the vote until the autumn session, I have more time to rally the votes I need. I might as well get about the business of looking for a wife in earnest.”
“I never bother to vote in Parliament,” Worth drawled. “Don’t happen to care for the hours. And all the arguing is downright exhausting.”
Bell gave Worth a beleaguered look and shook his head. “God forbid you take an interest in your seat or any of the issues the country is dealing with.”
Worth gave them his most charming grin, flashing his perfect smile that had been the downfall of many unsuspecting women. “I’m entirely confident you chaps can handle it,” Worth replied, clapping Bell on the back.
“When the time comes for the vote for my brother’s law,” Lucas continued, addressing his remarks to Worth, “I’ll drive to your town house and drag you out of bed myself.”
Bell’s and Clayton’s laughter filled the alcove in which they were sitting.
“Let’s not talk of such unpleasantness,” Worth replied with a sigh. “You mentioned finding a bride, Lucas. That’s much more interesting. Now, how old are you again?” The duke shoved back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Lucas.
Lucas arched a skeptical brow at Worth. “The same age you are, old man.” After Eton, they’d all gone on to Oxford. They’d all taken their firsts together. They all were the same age save for a matter of months.
“Well, then,” Worth declared. “You’ve plenty of time to find a wife as far as I’m concerned.”