Prologue

Many generations ago, when royal favours and titles were being dispensed like seeds from a maple tree in spring, a young fellow by the name of Hopper Trease found himself in the unusual position of assisting a member of the then-Royal family out of a bit of a sticky mess.

The gentleman in question (who shall remain nameless) was caught without some fundamental garments—you can imagine which ones—and in the company of no less than three buxom milkmaids.

Hopper, who'd had an eye for one of those milkmaids himself, would have been within his rights to protest, since he was the manager of this particular farm, and at no time had he been given to understand that the milkmaids' duties included larking about in the hayloft with a well-known Royal missing his breeches.

He managed to contain his temper, however, upon seeing several members of the Royal cavalry approaching the stable and calling for their titled companion.

Aware that disaster might occur should the August Personage be discovered with his royal weapon on full display and in the hands of common milkmaids (all of whom actually had very smooth hands, it must be noted), Hopper lived up to his name, and hopped up into the hayloft in a trice.

He hurried to the tumbled group, shushed them all immediately, handed the gentleman his breeches, and silently pointed down to where the afternoon sunlight was sparkling off the helmets of the officers below.

Horror-struck, the Royal dressed in a hurry, blew kisses to the sighing milkmaids, quickly asked Hopper his name, then thanked him profusely.

Showing him the ladder that led to the door at the rear of the barn, Hopper bowed respectfully, then held his breath as the man descended, only to appear a few moments later on the ground, straightening his clothing and addressing his men, giving them to understand he'd taken some moments to relieve himself behind the building.

The men saluted, brought the royal horse forward, and the gentleman mounted, leaving with reputation intact.

Hopper, heaving a sigh of relief, turned to the milkmaids with the intention of upbraiding them for their lack of decorum. However, he was but a man, and the sight of three lovely, almost-naked women lounging on the hay was too much to turn down. So, several hours later, the milkmaids staggered down the ladder to the barn, and Hopper, pleased with himself as only a man who has thoroughly satisfied three women could be (and one of them twice), lay at ease, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and relaxing in the knowledge of a job well done.

Thus he was very surprised to learn, a few months later, that a message had arrived at the farm, directed to him, from that lusty Royal.

Hopper blinked upon learning that he had, in fact, been awarded the title of Hopper Trease, Marquess of Lesser Barnhope. His astonishment grew apace as he discovered he was now the owner of several hundred acres in the next county.

This changed his life considerably, of course. He married a milkmaid (the one he'd satisfied twice), set up house in Barnhope Hall, and raised a large, mostly happy, family. In fact, the Trease of Barnhope Hall were all considered to be prime examples of exactly what Trease should be…sturdy, dependable, and rather nice to look at most of the time.

All of which doesn't have much to do with the following story, but it does, at least, explain the origins of the Trease family, humble though they might be.

So, moving swiftly through time a couple of hundred years, it's time to introduce the hero of our story, the current eldest son—the Right Honourable Ashe Trease.

Yes, the family tradition of embarrassing its offspring by naming them after a species of tree continues, to the snickers and giggles of those to whom they are introduced.

It's a burden, but it hasn't stopped a Trease from getting his way yet…and Ashe will be no different.