Chapter 2

Two

H enry Collins, the Viscount of Harcrest, scrolled into his club whistling as he walked. His day could not have gone better if he’d actually tried to make it so. He’d stayed up all night gambling in a den of iniquity that had proved profitable.

Now that he’d had a little bit of rest, he was about to meet with a few of his friends. This club wasn’t filled with everything sinful, but it still catered to gentlemen that wished to gather free of scrutiny. He preferred the other type of place, but this club had its uses.

He walked into the backroom to find four of his closest friends already there waiting for him. They were at a table drinking what he could only assume was brandy. The Earl of Foxcroft lifted his glass and took a long swig. Before his father died and he’d inherited the title, he’d been one of Henry’s closest friends. He would have been right by his side as they spent the night in every sinful activity they could find. That had changed when he had to take on so much more responsibility. It didn’t help that his father had left the earldom near penniless and creditors nearly knocking down his door. Henry had to commend Foxcroft for pulling his family from the brink of ruin.

“Hello all,” Henry said as he took a seat at the table. He turned to the Earl of Thornton on his left. “Surprised to see you here, Ole’ chap,” he said. “I thought you abhorred the club.”

“I hate a lot of things that I’m forced to endure,” Thornton said dryly. He ran a hand through his black hair, leaving it disheveled. “But even I have to leave my house from time to time.” He gestured toward the Duke of Castlebury. “His Grace thought this should be one of those times.”

The duke glared at Thornton. They had similar black hair, but their eyes were different. Where Thornton’s were green, Castlebury’s were blue. Rumors suggested they were truly brothers, and that Thornton was one of Castlebury’s father’s by-blows. No one knew for certain, but Castlebury’s connection to him didn’t help the rumors from spreading. They were too close, and some questioned Thornton’s right to the earldom. His father never disowned him. He held the title—even if most believed he was actually a bastard. Henry had never asked. He didn’t think it was his business, although he did have a bit of curiosity. He wouldn’t turn the information away if it presented itself. Though he did know that Thornton’s father had always been hard on him and that was one reason he didn’t socialize much.

“Thornton spends too much time in his study brooding,” Castlebury said. “You would think he’d have some motivation to enjoy life now that he’s able to.”

“Because my father’s dead?” Thornton asked. “Let’s all toast to the rotten old codger,” he said as he lifted his glass of brandy. “May he continue to burn in hell.” Definitely no love lost there…

The Marquess of Ardmore shook his head. “Mate,” he began. “I feel for you, but at least you no longer have to live with the man.” He wasn’t even certain why Ardmore had decided to join them. It took a lot to catch his interest. This club wouldn’t normally top that any of the marquess’s lists.

“Why are you with us this evening Ardmore,” Henry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Nothing more appealing for you this evening?”

He sighed. “You’re as uncouth as usual, Harcrest.” Ardmore sipped his brandy. “But if you must know, I do have another engagement.” His lips twitched in amusement. “But not until much later. Until then, you chaps will have to suffice.”

“How kind of you to grace us with your presence?” Henry rolled his eyes.

“By the way,” Ardmore began. “I’m having a house party in a fortnight. You’re all invited.” He said it so nonchalantly it gave Henry pause. The marquess did not have house parties.

“And why would we want to attend a house party?” The duke drawled. “That sounds positively dreadful.” His tone suggested it would be far more than that, and he would rather not attend.

“As His Grace has so eloquently stated,” Henry said. “House parties are not the sort of entertainment we seek out.”

“That is why this one will be far more interesting than most,” Ardmore said, and then winked. “Would I have a party that promised nothing but ennui?”

Well, when he put it that way… “I’ve never known you to be dull.” The marquess did have a certain reputation.

“Is this a house party that promises debauchery?” Henry would absolutely attend, if that were the case. It had been an age when he’d attended a party of that sort.

“Of course not.” Ardmore rolled his eyes. “My little sister will be there. That’s not the proper environment for a young lady.” He sighed. “But I will have some private entertainments at a hunting lodge on my property. For those with more…discerning tastes.”

Henry grinned. “All right,” he said in a jovial tone. “You’ve convinced me.” He was curious enough to go and discover what the marquess had planned.

“I’ll consider it,” the duke said. “Depends on what other entertainments are available. I rarely enjoy the country.”

“Do you enjoy anything?” Thornton asked?

“Do you?” Castlebury retorted. They glared at each other for several excruciating moments.

“Well,” Foxcroft said. “Now that we’ve moved past that uncomfortable exchange…” He lifted his brandy and gestured toward the marquess. “I’ll be there. Whether these two leave London or not. So you’ll have two of us at your private party while the rest of your guest take over your house.”

Ardmore laughed. “That aspect of the party is all Victoria,” he said. “My sister decided that she wanted to gather with a few of her friends and coerced me into this party. She’s inviting others, so it should be a grand affair.” He rolled his eyes. “It’ll be a pain, but if you’re all there, it will be more tolerable.”

“Well,” Foxcroft said. “If the betting book is accurate, it should be an opportunity for Harcrest here.”

“I don’t follow,” Harcrest said. What the blazes was Foxcroft going on about? “What’s in the betting book?” He had a terrible feeling he would not like what he had to say next.

“That you’re officially in the market for a wife,” Foxcroft said.

Henry blinked. Several times. Did he just say…

“You are?” The duke spun to look at him. “Since when?”

“I bloody well am not,” Harcrest sputtered out. “What the bloody hell… That cannot be correct.”

He had to go take a gander at that book. Who would have started that rumor? Why was it even in the betting books? Whoever had done this was going to hear from him. This was horrid. If the ton at large heard that rumor… Then he’d be pursued for the purpose of marriage. He shuddered in horror. He had carefully cultivated his reputation to avoid that.

“I assure you,” Foxcroft said in a smooth tone. “It is definitely in the books. The wagers vary in what they think will happen. The odds do not favor you my friend. Most believe that some adventurous young lady will win your hand by the end of the summer.”

“Bollocks,” he cursed. “I don’t understand any of this. Why are they even making these bets?”

“Perhaps it has something to do with your drunken behavior at that ball a sennight ago.” It was almost the end of the season and a lot of families would be returning to the country for the summer. That was probably why Ardmore was having his house party in a fortnight.

“Again, I do not understand. As I was inebriated, my memory is lacking. Please explain.” Harcrest rubbed his temples. Perhaps he should stop imbibing so much. No, that wouldn’t solve anything, and he enjoyed brandy.

“You claimed a pretty little wallflower tried to strip you and have her wicked way with you.” Ardmore wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And that she was quite determined in her pursuit.”

“A wallflower?” That also seemed implausible. “Why would a wallflower try to take off my clothes?” And more importantly, what was her name? Was she indeed pretty, and if so, why was she a wallflower? He had more questions than answers.

“That is the question on almost everyone’s lips,” Foxcroft said.

“I cannot help wondering myself,” the duke drawled. “I’ve seen Lady Lilah Stephens. She is indeed pretty. On the poorer side, but lovely nonetheless. Not as pretty as some of the other debutantes this season. Probably why she was mostly ignored. There were far more appealing prospects. That is, if one was in the market for a wife.”

“Which you are not,” Henry supplied.

“Quite true, mate,” he said. The duke downed his brandy and then poured more into his glass. “Much like we all believed of you. But since that night a sennight ago many have wondered if perhaps you were just looking for a reason to claim the chit. I mean, you ruined her with your tale. Are you certain you do not recall this?”

He frowned. He didn’t even recall going to a ball. Could it have happened? Why would he tell everyone that she’d accosted him if she hadn’t actually done it? “Do you know whether or not it was true?”

“That’s what everyone believes,” Foxcroft said. “However, I do not know if Lady Lilah Stephens actually did the deeds you claimed.” He shrugged. “No one witnessed these acts. But your words did enough damage that the lady is practically ostracized.”

“I don’t remember…” Henry rubbed his hand over his face. If he did say all of it, and the lady did not in fact try to remove his clothes… What had he done? He had to find out if it was true and somehow fix it. The lady should not be shunned because of his drunken stupidity. However, if she had tried to do as he claimed, perhaps she has gotten what she deserved.

“My sister is friends with her,” Ardmore said in a casual tone. “I didn’t like it, but she plans on inviting her to the house party. You can rest assured that she won’t even come close to you during the party.” He met Henry’s gaze. “The lady hates you and will avoid you. There might be other ladies that would willingly trap you into marriage, but Lady Lilah won’t be amongst their ranks.”

“Well, hell….” He had a lot to make amends for, apparently. “I don’t even know her. Why would I say all of that?”

“I cannot say with any certainty,” Foxcroft told him. “We have all wondered it ourselves.” He motioned between himself, Ardmore, the duke, and Thornton. “But the real question is. Are you really looking for a wife?”

“No,” he said emphatically. “That has not changed. If you want to place a wager, then I’d bet against everyone else.”

“Oh, I already placed my wager,” Foxcroft said. “I am leaning toward you, finding yourself leg shackled. There will be some determined young lady that makes it her mission to be your wife, and you’ll find yourself in a neat little parson’s trap.”

“You’re an arse.” Henry glared at him.

“But I’m right,” he said. “The remaining unmarried ladies after this season’s end will look at you as their last chance. They will circle you like you’re their prey and it’s their last meal.”

He shuddered. “God…” What an image that was in his head now. “Maybe I shouldn’t attend this house party after all.”

“Awfully cowardly of you,” the duke said, then laughed. “But that is to be expected.”

“You would hide if you were in a similar position,” Henry exclaimed.

“I am already,” the duke told him. “Every damn day. It doesn’t matter how much I claim that I do not wish to wed. Some young lady with high aspirations of becoming a duchess will get a grand idea of how to trap me or make me love her. It’s the curse of being a duke.” He shrugged. “You could only live on that awful reputation of yours for so long. This was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time.”

Henry hated that his friend was right. But that did not mean he had to like it. “Well,” he said. “I guess I’ll still attend. However, I have lost any interest in doing anything more this evening. If you’ll pardon me, I am going home.” He would drown his sorrows in his own brandy in the safety of home. Then he’d ponder all the mistakes he had made and decide what he should do next. What a bloody mess… “Good evening.” With those words, he stood and left his club. His mood soured, and his mind troubled.

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