“That’s easy to say, coming from a man who’s never given a toss about securing his own title,” Lucas shot back, giving his friend a good-natured grin.
Worth returned the smile. “I cannot argue with you there.” He turned and gave the barmaid his even more charming smile, the one that brought out the dimple in his cheek, as he ordered another round of ale for the table.
“Yes, well, if you’re seriously looking for a wife, Lucas, the Season has just ended,” Clayton interjected. “It seems you’ve missed your chance. The entire ton is about to retire to the country as soon as Parliament closes next week.”
“I’m well aware,” Lucas replied with a curt nod. “The Season makes my skin crawl. Full of simpering maids and purse-eyeing mamas eager to show off their best behavior in the hopes of snaring a rich husband. I don’t want to find a wife that way.”
“How else do you intend to find one?” The marquess’s intelligent eyes turned shrewd.
“I don’t know how exactly.” He took another drink, growing more confident with each sip. “But this time I intend to find a lady who loves me for myself.”
He was talking about Lady Emily Foswell, of course. He never mentioned her name, but his friends knew what he’d been through. No amount of swaggering or denial on his part would convince them that he hadn’t had his damn heart destroyed by her. Though until tonight, he hadn’t even thought about Emily since Parliament had resumed session a few months ago. He’d been far too preoccupied with the Employment Bill.
“Yes!” Worth pounded his fist against the table. The duke’s normally jovial voice filled with anger. “I think we can all agree that Lady Emily is the lowest of the low. There’s no excuse for what she did, tossing over one man for another with a better title. As far as I’m concerned, she no longer exists.”
Leave it to Worth to bring up a sore subject. The duke had been the most outraged of all of them by Lady Emily’s behavior. And the most interested in ensuring Lady Emily knew that she’d inadvertently tossed over a future earl for a baron.
“Can we not discuss Lady Emily, please?” Lucas said with a groan, covering his face with one hand.
Worth’s good humor returned with the arrival of the barmaid who’d appeared with their drinks. “Keep ‘em coming, love,” he said to her, before turning back to Lucas and adding, “I’m merely pointing out that if you want a lady who loves you for yourself, the Season and its ridiculousness are the last place you should go.”
“Yes,” Lucas replied with a sigh, lifting his mug into the air to salute the duke. “Didn’t I already say that? The Season and its fetes are the last place I should go, which is why I’ve avoided it like the pox for the last two Seasons.”
“Oh, is that why you haven’t attended the boring balls at Almack’s?” Worth replied with a smirk. “I thought it was the tepid tea and small talk. That’s why I steer clear of them.”
“You avoid them because they don’t serve brandy and we all know it,” Bell pointed out, staring fixedly at Worth, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Worth winked at his friend. “That and they won’t give me the bank that Hollister’s will.”
Hollister’s was Worth’s favorite gambling hell. The man spent nearly all his free time there. Hollister’s had given the duke carte blanche and he won and lost small fortunes there regularly.
Lucas scratched his chin and stared blindly at his mug. “If only the ladies of the ton didn’t know I am an earl, I’d have a much better chance of finding a match,” he grumbled. Hmm. The drink was obviously making him looser with words. Perhaps looser with thoughts as well.
Worth’s laughter cracked off the wooden beams on the tavern’s ceiling. “I’d pay to see that. An earl dressed up like a common man to find true love. Has a certain poetic ring to it, don’t it?”
Clayton laughed too and shook his head, while Bell’s shrewd, narrowed-eyed stare intensified. “It’s not a completely outlandish idea.” He tilted his head to the side.
“What’s not?” Lucas had nearly forgotten what he’d said.
“The idea of pretending you’re a commoner to find a wife,” Bell replied.
Worth slapped Bell on the back. “Are you mad, man? You’re not even drinking.”
Bell never drank. His mug probably contained rice milk or something equally unexciting. He preferred to remain in control of his faculties, and they all knew it. He’d always been the one to ensure they all made it home safely and without unnecessary run-ins with the foot patrol or the chancellors at Oxford. The marquess leaned forward to stare directly at Lucas. “Given the right circumstances, it could work, you know?”
“Pretending I’m common?” Lucas replied, blinking. “I don’t see how.”
“Everyone in the ton knows him,” Clayton pointed out. “How would he ever manage it?”
“Are you suggesting he wear a mask or alter his appearance?” Worth asked, stroking his chin, his own eyes narrowing as if he, too, were taking the idea seriously.
Lucas glanced back and forth between Worth and Bell. “You cannot be serious, either of you. Clayton’s right. How would it ever work?”
“No, not a costume.” Bell addressed his remarks to Worth. “I was thinking something more like the right...situation.”
“Such as?” Worth replied, drawing out both words. He also leaned forward.
“You two are frightening me, you know?” Lucas replied. “You seem as if you’re actually trying to plot out a way this ludicrous idea might work.”
“Like a…house party,” Bell replied to Worth, stroking his chin and completely ignoring Lucas’s concern.
Worth inclined his head, his eyes still narrowed. “A house party, yes. I see what you mean.”
“But it couldn’t be just any house party, of course,” Bell continued. “It would have to be one given by someone who was in on the experiment.”
“Experiment?” Clayton perked up. “There are few things I enjoy more than an experiment, and I just so happen to be about to send the invitations to my annual country house party.” Clayton’s words were stated casually as if he hadn’t just added a large helping of kindling to the fire that was already burning brightly with insanity.
“Experiment?” Lucas repeated numbly, blinking.
Bell snapped his fingers. “Your house party would be perfect, Clayton.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” Lucas, who sat between Bell and Worth, pushed against each of his friends’ shoulders with both hands. He needed to sober up quickly. His friends had clearly lost their minds, even Bell, who was normally the level-headed one when things went too far afield. “A house party isn’t going to change my identity. Ladies of the ton will still know who I am at a house party.”
“He makes a good point,” Clayton replied, sloshing more ale down his throat. Thank heavens, Clayton wasn’t taking this discussion seriously, after all.
“Not if you invite only the debutantes from this Season,” Bell replied, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And not if you create the right circumstances.”