Chapter 1

May 1816, London

" S hefford, this reluctance to marry has gone on long enough."

Clive Halifax, twelfth Earl of Shefford and heir to the Duke of Henlow, closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly. He counted to three, then lowered his head, opened his eyes, and leveled his bored gaze at his mother.

"It isn't so much reluctance as refusal." Sheff gave her a bland smile. "It will continue for the foreseeable future." He moved to the tray atop a cabinet that held a helpful supply of wine and liquor. This was his father's house, and there would never be a lack of such fortification. After splashing port into a glass, Sheff turned.

The Duchess of Henlow, standing in the center of the drawing room, nearly growled in frustration, her blue eyes flashing. Though she was a small, very thin woman, her presence could fill a room. "It's bad enough your sister hasn't wed yet. She's now seen as having impossibly high standards. Her position on the Marriage Mart has fallen far below that of other young ladies of less stature and breeding. It's unconscionable!"

"Oh, yes, it's just a scandal that Minerva doesn't want to wed herself to a philanderer or a drunkard. Her standards are absolutely too high." Sheff kept from rolling his eyes, but the urge was strong.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't take that sarcastic tone with me. Your sister is being altogether too demanding. No man is perfect."

"He doesn't have to be. He just needs to be perfect for her ," Sheff said softly. He lifted his glass in a toast before taking a drink.

"Pfft. I never credited you for a romantic," the duchess said. She stared at him a moment, her ire seeming to ease. "I didn't think you or your sister would be like that. Not after… Well, not with what you've been privy to."

She meant the awful example of matrimony she and their father had set, not that it was her fault. Sheff knew it was entirely his father's. Just as Sheff expected to be the same kind of husband. Some men weren't meant for an eternal love.

Or love at all.

"This is precisely why you shouldn't expect or demand marriage from either me or Min. Our sense of it is rather warped."

His mother's gaze hardened once more. "You've a duty to the dukedom. And your sister isn't going to be some hopeless spinster. It's bad enough she's aligned with one."

The duchess referred to Min's companion, Ellis Dangerfield, an orphan they'd welcomed into their household when she was nine years old—at his father's insistence. Their mother had never been particularly warm toward Ellis, but that was to be expected given Ellis was just one of the duke's many illegitimate children.

Or so Sheff believed. No one had ever said, and he'd never asked. It was just something he took as truth. Why else would the duke take in the child of a family friend who'd died? He'd never possessed one sentimental thought, as far as Sheff could tell.

That wasn't exactly true. If it were, the duke would never have accepted Ellis. Someday, Sheff would like to know definitively that Ellis was his father's daughter, but they never discussed the duke's indiscretions outside of when they were happening. In those moments of crisis, Sheff was typically required to clean up his father's mess to protect the duke's reputation, though Sheff didn't do it for him. He did it for the family—for his mother and especially for Min. Then, they were never mentioned again. And the duke's past peccadilloes were certainly never resurrected.

"Mama, I'm sure you don't mean to disparage dear Ellis," Sheff said. "She has been a sister to Min and me."

The duchess pursed her lips, her expression disgruntled. "I have no concern for her whatsoever except for how she reflects on and influences your actual sister."

Sheff exhaled. "I don't think she bears any reflection on Min, nor does she exert influence. Min has a mind of her own, which I should think you would know." He sipped his port and glanced at the clock. They were due to leave for the ball at Northumberland House shortly. Which meant Min and Ellis would enter at any moment. They might even be eavesdropping outside the door. That made him smile. It would serve his mother right to be overheard in her judgment.

"Of course I know that," the duchess snapped. "But the two of them together…it's concerning. Min must wed this Season. I fear she will be relegated to spinsterhood if she does not."

Sheff considered arguing, particularly since it would keep the conversation away from him, where it had started. But he was saved from doing so by the arrival of his sister and Ellis.

Min looked beautiful as always, her dark hair coiled into an elegant, complicated style of curls and braids adorned with pearls and a tall peacock feather. Her gown was a shimmering teal blue with purple ribbon decorating the flounces at her hem.

Ellis, by contrast, wore a simple peach-colored gown with a minimum of lace at the bodice and hem. Her blonde hair was styled and decorated without fuss, a single ivory ribbon wound through the curls.

"I am sure I heard the word ‘spinsterhood' just before we entered," Min said, looking at the duchess. "Were you referring to me or to Ellis?"

Sheff didn't give their mother the chance to prevaricate. "Both of you, really. Come, we should go."

The sooner they arrived, the sooner he could leave. He often escorted his mother, Min, and Ellis to events, stayed a short but acceptable amount of time, then took himself off to one of his clubs. He was already considering where he might go. The Phoenix Club to drink fine whisky? Perhaps the Siren's Call to play a hand of cards or two. Ultimately, he would likely end up at the Rogue's Den, where his favorite courtesan would greet him with a seductive smile.

However, it appeared Min was not ready to let the matter of spinsterhood drop. She narrowed her eyes at their mother, looking nearly like the duchess had when she'd scolded Sheff a bit ago. "Spinsterhood is not akin to hanging, Mother. If that is how I am meant to spend my life, so be it. I will choose being alone if that will bring me the most happiness."

"It will not," the duchess said firmly.

"Can you really say that?" Min asked quietly. "Would you not be happier if you weren't leg shackled to Father?"

Their mother sucked in a breath. She did not hesitate before answering. "I would not . Where would I be? Alone at my parents' estate in Dorset. Reading the same books over and over, and probably herding cats."

"That sounds rather lovely," Ellis murmured.

Sheff swallowed a grin. Ellis rarely spoke around their mother, and she certainly didn't take an adversarial point of view. He was glad she did just then.

Min was too, for she sent an approving smile toward Ellis. "Yes, it does. Anyway, Mother, I'm not in danger of anything horrible. I am quite content with my life as it is for now, and I'm not concerned about the future. So you shouldn't be either. Why not pester Sheff instead?" She sent him a look, then mouthed an apology.

Now, Sheff did roll his eyes. "How do you think our conversation started?" He finished the port and set the glass down on the tray. "Time to go."

He started toward the door, gesturing for the younger ladies to precede them. Then he offered his arm to the duchess.

She set her gloved hand on his sleeve. "Would you please just find a wife? Any wife will do at this point. Then your father will stop bothering me about what I'm doing to ensure you do."

That was the truth, then. She was seeking to put a barrier between herself and her loathsome husband. Sheff not only didn't blame her, he felt badly that his actions had caused her to be the focus of any of his father's attention, let alone his anger.

"I will consider it," he said in a low tone that made him feel as hollow as his intention. He would not find a wife. Not even any wife. But he would say anything to end the haranguing.

Would he also do anything?

An idea began to form. It was daring. Perhaps even foolhardy, but it would give him a much-needed reprieve. If they believed he was betrothed, their persistent harassment would end. But he couldn't actually betroth himself, not unless he intended to marry, which he absolutely did not.

Was there a woman who might help him? Someone who would agree to a betrothal—but no marriage? Finding her might be a challenge, but Sheff was always up for that.

She wouldn't be someone on the Marriage Mart, for such a young lady would never agree to the scheme. That meant finding someone perhaps older or less "appropriate." He suddenly realized this plan could have the added benefit of horrifying his parents. That would serve them right after their years-long campaign to see him trapped in marriage.

He would consider this most sincerely. But was he desperate enough to make it happen?

A fter staying a dutiful hour at Northumberland House, Sheff departed in a hack bound for the Siren's Call. He might play cards, or perhaps he'd just have an ale. He could not stop thinking about the plan that had been formulating in his head all evening. And there was no better place to continue his contemplation than the Siren's Call.

He seated himself at the table in the corner where he and his friends usually sat. One or more of them might turn up, but it was early yet, not even eleven.

His mind turned to the matter at hand: marriage. More accurately, stopping his parents' incessant demands that he wed.

If he were betrothed, he could put an end to their harassment, both of him and Min. Perhaps then he and his sister could breathe easier and live the lives they chose instead of what their parents or Society demanded.

But could Sheff really avoid that? He'd successfully kept himself from serving in the House of Commons, but that wasn't something his father bothered him about. Why would he when the duke could hardly be moved to tend to his own duties in the Lords? If he went to Westminster more than once a month Sheff would be surprised.

Someday, perhaps sooner rather than later, if his father didn't ease his indulgences, Sheff would inherit the dukedom. Then it would be his responsibility to serve in the Lords. Even if he paid only a modicum of attention, he'd do better than his father.

Though, he planned to do more than that. He also knew one of his friends in particular, the Baron Droxford, would ensure he did. No one took his duty more seriously than Droxford.

"If it isn't the Earl of Shefford." Josephine Harker, daughter of the owner of the Siren's Call, approached his table with a sway of her hips and a quirk of her lush mouth. "You don't have ale yet?"

"Becky's been busy." Sheff inclined his head toward the redhead balancing a tray of ale as she made her way to a table. "Are you short a serving maid tonight?"

Jo's dark brows pitched over her hazel eyes. What would have been an expression of consternation on someone else was an arresting look of contemplation on Jo's striking features, as if her mind churned faster than even she could keep up with. But then she was inordinately clever. "No, but I don't know where Agnes has gone. I hadn't realized she was missing until you just said something. Damn."

"Is that a problem?" Sheff asked. "Perhaps she's taking care of a personal matter."

Snapping her gaze to his, Jo smirked. "I'm surprised you would think of such a thing."

Sheff wasn't sure if he ought to be offended or amused. "Why?"

Jo lifted a shoulder, which was covered by the slightly puffed sleeve of her otherwise austere blue gown. "Because you are a rogue with little consideration for the fairer sex."

Touching his chest in mock affront, Sheff sucked in a breath. "I have great consideration for the fairer sex. Some would argue too much," he added with a comical leer that prompted her to laugh, which had been his goal. Straightening his expression, he added, "I also have a sister and an almost sister, and I know that sometimes a lady just needs a moment—or ten—alone."

"How shockingly astute of you," Jo murmured with an appreciative nod. "And now you must excuse me so I may look for Agnes. I'm sure Becky will be along directly with your ale. She knows what you like."

"I am an open book, I'm afraid."

"Come now, Sheff, even you must have secrets," Jo said with an almost flirtatious edge, but that was the relationship they shared—not quite flirting with one another, but not entirely platonic either. "I know you do." She sent him a taunting look, daring him to ask what she imagined them to be.

But she was gone before he could ask.

A moment later, Becky brought him his ale, and they chatted for a few minutes. When she departed, Sheff took a drink as he contemplated whether he wanted to visit the cardroom.

Deciding he may as well, Sheff stood just as Jo returned. She strode straight for him, her face dark with concern. "Come with me," she said without preamble before taking his hand and tugging him from the large common room.

Sheff had no choice but to leave his ale on the table as she pulled him through an arched doorway. There were stairs leading up and down. She released his hand and took the ascending staircase. As Sheff trailed behind, he wondered at the tingling sensation shooting from his palm and alerting his body to the fact that Jo was an exceptionally alluring woman. Who'd touched him.

Jerking his focus to whatever problem was at hand, he asked, "What is happening?"

"I've found Agnes." Jo looked back at Sheff over her shoulder as they reached the first-floor landing. "She was not taking care of a personal matter, at least not to do with her." She continued up the next flight to the second floor.

Jo opened a door into a small chamber. Moving through the space, she entered a narrow corridor. "We rent rooms here to some of the employees. Agnes has been living here since she was hired three months ago."

They were going to Agnes's lodgings, and she was not dealing with a personal matter.

Sheff reached out and snagged Jo's elbow, drawing her to stop. "Why did you want me to come up here?"

Facing him, Jo pursed her lips. "I suppose it's better if I prepare you before we just walk in. Agnes was…entertaining a gentleman. He has, unfortunately, become ill, and Agnes was afraid to leave him."

A cold certainty settled into Sheff's middle. "This gentleman wouldn't be the Duke of Henlow, would he?"

Why else would Jo ask for his help specifically? What's more, this was precisely the sort of activity Sheff's father would engage in on a Thursday evening. Hell, any evening.

"Yes," Jo replied. Her tone was short, succinct, but her gaze was soft, caring.

"Has he done this here before?" Sheff asked. Over the past few years, he'd had to rescue his father from countless similar situations, but never from the Siren's Call. Most often, it was from some opera singer's bed or one of many brothels he liked to visit.

Jo nodded. "It's been a while, nearly a year, I'd say. My mother tossed him out that time and told him not to come back. I don't think he has—until tonight."

Sheff blew out a breath and muttered, "Lovely." It seemed Jo did know Sheff's secrets. Or one of them anyway. Summoning a bland, humorless smile, he gestured for her to continue along the corridor. "Shall we?"

Turning on her heel, Jo led him to the room at the end on the left. The duke lay face down on the floor next to Agnes's narrow bed, wearing his shirt and breeches, which had been loosened. The rest of his clothing, including his boots, were strewn about the small bedchamber.

Agnes sat on the edge of the bed, a blanket drawn around her shift-clad form. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook. Upon seeing Sheff, she bolted to her feet, barely missing his father sprawled on the floor. His low snores filled the tight space.

"I'm so sorry. I was just trying to be hospitable. Him being a duke and all," Agnes blathered. She sniffed and wiped the edge of her blanket over her nose. The lift of her arm exposed more of her shift, and Sheff noted a splash of sick on the garment.

He closed his eyes and tamped down the disgust coiling within him. He counted to three before opening his eyes again, his shame and fury buried once more.

"Did anything happen between you before he fell unconscious?" Jo asked.

Agnes stared at her. "I…yes." She looked down at the floor. "But we did not have intercourse."

Relief coursed through Sheff. He appreciated small triumphs.

"Still, if my mother finds out, you'll be looking for a new job," Jo said.

Sheff snapped his gaze to her. "Don't let that happen. This isn't Agnes's fault. My father is a master manipulator. Furthermore, he is a duke. What young woman has the gumption to turn her back on him? Besides you," he added.

"It isn't my decision." Jo sent poor Agnes a sympathetic glance. "My mother has no patience for serving maids who dawdle with customers. It is a condition of employment and made very clear at the outset."

Agnes's crying started anew. "I know. I'm so ashamed." Sobs racked her frame.

"Come away now," Jo said, holding her arm out. "You can go to my chamber downstairs and get cleaned up while his lordship manages the duke."

"Wait," Sheff said. "Agnes, it's imperative you say nothing of this to anyone . Can you promise me that? This is vital." Rumors of the duke's transgressions were numerous and sometimes obscene, but Sheff did his best to quiet them.

Agnes nodded.

Jo gave her a pointed look. "Do listen to his lordship. If you manage to retain your position here, it will be in jeopardy if you gossip."

"I understand. I am terribly sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble." Agnes's voice hitched, and she began to cry again. She quickly dashed from the chamber.

"Poor girl." Sheff frowned at his father's snoring form. "I can't comprehend how she—and others like her are—are swept away by him."

"As you pointed out a few minutes ago, he's a duke," Jo said sardonically. "That is enough to turn many heads. And he's not unattractive. Speaking objectively," she added.

Yes, he was a not-unattractive duke with more charm than he deserved. "Can you bring coffee? I'll need that to rouse him from his stupor, at least long enough for me to get him dressed and into a hack. Once he's home, the footmen can carry him upstairs."

"I take it that is not an unusual occurrence. How unfortunate that you must involve members of your household."

"They are discreet. If they aren't, they are soon dismissed."

She looked at Sheff with sympathy. "I didn't realize the situation was that bad. I mean, I knew he had a reputation for debauchery, but it sounds as though you manage regular misbehavior."

"Honestly, tonight's situation is far from the worst I've dealt with." Why was he telling her this? "Never mind. Forget I said that." He wiped a hand over his brow.

"What the devil is going on in here?" Jo's mother, Jewel Harker, stepped into the small chamber, one hand on her hip. She possessed the same wide, expressive mouth as her daughter, but her hair was a lighter brown and now lined with gray. Her eyes were smaller and her chin broader. She was a striking woman, her figure curved and enticing in all the right places. Noticing such things about any woman he encountered was one of many reasons Sheff knew he was a scoundrel at his core.

Jewel looked down at Sheff's father and scoffed. "Is that bloody Henlow? He's not allowed here." Her gaze snapped to Sheff. "Given your presence, it must be him." Finally, she fixed her attention on her daughter. "Explain."

Exhaling, Jo detailed what they knew or had deduced—that Agnes had been persuaded by the duke to bring him here, that they had not engaged in intercourse, that he'd been ill. Then he'd lost consciousness.

"Make sure she's gone tomorrow," Jewel said. She glowered at the duke. "And toss him out now."

Before Sheff could advocate for Agnes, Jo spoke. "Mama, Agnes knows she made a mistake. Henlow took advantage." She glanced toward Sheff.

"Yes," Sheff quickly agreed. "He preys on impressionable young women."

Jewel snorted. "I bloody well know that. I was once an impressionable young woman." She moved closer to Sheff's father and sneered down at him. For a moment, Sheff thought she might spit on him. And Sheff wasn't sure if he'd care.

Then he realized what she'd said. He saw that Jo was staring at her mother.

"Mama, you and the duke…?"

"Me and half of London." Jewel shifted her attention to Sheff. "Honestly, I'm surprised he doesn't have the pox. Or does he by now?"

If he did, Sheff was not aware of it. God, what would Sheff even do if that were the case? The man was unstoppable.

"To my knowledge, he does not," Sheff said tightly. "I will remove him from the premises as quickly as possible." How he wished he had his coach and driver. Or at least the driver.

"Good." Jewel pinned him with a dark stare. "And make sure he doesn't return, else I will make sure all of London knows he couldn't fornicate with a pretty, young maid and then tossed up his accounts all over her."

The duke wouldn't like that, nor would Sheff because of how it would reflect on the rest of them. Protecting his mother and Min was the reason Sheff worked so hard to keep the duke out of serious trouble. "I will do my best," Sheff promised. Though, trying to control the duke's actions was akin to trying to stop a waterfall.

Jewel started to turn, but Jo touched her arm. "Mama, please give Agnes another chance. I'll make sure she follows the rules."

Blowing out a breath, Jewel narrowed her eyes at Jo. "You're going to have to harden that heart of yours, my girl, if you're going to run this place someday. Fine, Agnes is your responsibility. If she blunders again, it's on you. And she's working in the kitchen and cleaning up after we close every night for a fortnight."

"Thank you, Mama." After Jewel left, Jo faced Sheff. "How can I help?"

"I appreciate you advocating for Agnes. My father has ruined situations for enough young women," he added quietly. Moving toward the duke, Sheff wrinkled his nose as the scent of vomit grew stronger. "You don't have to help me, though if you want to bring me cleaning supplies, I'll wash the floor." Sheff could see there was sick on the wood pooling from underneath his father's midsection.

"Nonsense, you're heir to a dukedom." She blinked at him. "Do you even know how to wash a floor?"

"Yes, actually. This is not my father's first disaster with drink," he said wryly.

One of her brows gently arched. "I'll be back shortly."

Sheff heard her leave and close the door. He crouched down and poked at the duke, whose only reaction was to snore more loudly.

Over the next several minutes, Sheff managed to bring the duke's breeches into the appropriate position and button the fall. He'd had to roll his father over, and now Sheff worked to haul him up to sit against a dresser.

Jo returned with a bucket, mop, and some toweling. She took care of the floor while Sheff wiped up the duke's face and shirtfront. When he was finished, Jo took the soiled cloth from him. Their fingers touched, and Sheff felt a shocking arc of desire, which he'd been well on his way to earlier when she'd grabbed his hand. What a bloody inappropriate time to experience that.

And why now? He'd known Jo for a while. He found her attractive and fun and enjoyed flirting with her. But he'd never considered her for bed sport. He wasn't quite as bad as his father—he only dallied with widows and courtesans. And it had been a long while since he'd spent time with a widow.

"Shall we get him downstairs?" Jo asked. "We can go all the way to the basement and take him through the scullery up into the alley. No one will see you leave. But first, he needs coffee. I asked Becky to have some sent up and left outside the door."

"Excellent." He met her gaze with appreciation. "Thank you. For everything."

With a nod, she turned and went to the corridor, returning with a small tray bearing a pot and a cup. She poured the coffee and picked up the cup. "Are we tipping this down his gullet?"

"Eventually." Sheff took the cup from her, and again their hands grazed one another. He looked at her, but her gaze was directed elsewhere.

Hell, this was no time for him to be distracted even if he hated these situations the duke created. Sheff put the cup beneath his father's nose. "Wake up!"

The duke snuffled and jerked. His nose twitched. He mumbled something.

"That's it," Sheff said cajolingly. "Wake up now. Time to go. You've had your fun." Though it pained him to speak pleasantly, he'd learned through experience that this was the best way to achieve the desired result—the duke's cooperation.

Thankfully, he didn't resist tonight, which wasn't always the case. The duke sipped the coffee. then blinked his eyes open. "Give me some love now, my gel." His lips curved into a smile, and Sheff had to stop himself from spilling coffee on the man to jolt him fully awake.

"There's no woman, Father," Sheff said flatly. "Just you unconscious after being ill. You need to get yourself up and out of this chamber."

Nodding, the duke took another drink of coffee, then allowed Sheff to get him dressed, though they didn't bother with the cravat, and his coat wasn't buttoned.

"Where's my hat?" the duke slurred.

"Here." Jo handed it to Sheff, who jammed it, none too gently, onto his father's head.

"Ow!" The duke glared at him.

Sheff pulled the duke to his feet, holding him by the arm as he swayed.

The duke's gaze locked on Jo. "She's not the same gel, but she'll do." He smiled at her, his lips parted.

Sheff jerked his father toward the door. "She is not available. Perhaps you aren't aware that you are at the Siren's Call, where you are not permitted. We need to leave. Now."

"She can come with us." The duke tossed her a suggestive grin, then tripped over the threshold as Sheff tried to pull him out to the corridor.

Jo darted to help keep the duke on his feet.

"That's more like it," the duke said, hunched over, reaching for Jo. His hand grazed her breast, and Jo twisted. She bent her knees and jammed her elbow into the duke's loins.

Sheff watched as his father doubled over and crumpled to the floor. Instead of helping the man who'd deserved what he'd just received, Sheff looked at Jo with sheer admiration. "Bloody brilliant."

"I know how to protect myself from revolting men. Come, let's get him downstairs."

"You don't have to help, not after that." He could hardly believe she was offering. Jo was a remarkable woman.

She was also not on the Marriage Mart. And she was precisely the type of woman who would shock his parents. Additionally, she was quite capable of handling herself with them and in Society, as far as Sheff could tell.

The scheme of a faux betrothal rose in his mind. The perfect candidate was standing right in front of him.

He locked his eyes with hers. "Marry me, Jo."

The duke groaned. Then he heaved.

"No, you are not to be sick again!" Sheff hoisted him up and steered him down the corridor. "I'll call on you tomorrow," he said over his shoulder, thinking tonight's disaster had turned out rather well.

There was a first time for everything.