Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“ Y ou, Theo, need a wife.”

Theodore Stanley, the Duke of Langdon and heir to one of the most impressive estates in the country, waved aside a cloud of cigar smoke and eyed his friend impassively.

“What an interesting suggestion. You, my dear Stephen, need a brain. Or perhaps a hobby or two, to keep you from worrying so excessively about my private life.”

Stephen snorted. “I suspect this charming personality of yours is exactly why you remain single.”

“For which I thank the good Lord on my knees every morning and evening. What brought this on, then?”

Stephen sighed, sinking lower into the ornate leather armchair. He flicked his cigar aside, and at a glower from his friend, he meekly picked up the butt and deposited it in an ashtray. Theodore did not smoke and only permitted Stephen the occasional cigar on sufferance.

They were, of course, taking their ease in Langdon House, the largest and finest townhouse in London, and less like a bachelor’s apartment than Stephen’s home.

Theodore took a long sip of his brandy and eyed his friend over the rim. “Come on, then. Tell me. You have a point to get at, don’t you? So, let’s hear it.”

“Well, I was reading one of the gossip columns the other day…”

“Oh, good Lord. The high and mighty Duke of Blackwood, reading a gossip column? This won’t do anything for your reputation as a haughty and unpleasant young rake, you know.”

“Stop it, you fool. I read the column in private, and anyway, they’re remarkably good for getting information about London. All that stuff in the columns is accurate , you know. But that’s not the point. There was a great deal about us two, you know.”

Theodore took another sip from his brandy. “So what? We’re single, young, good-looking dukes. Of course, London is interested in us. More to the point, ambitious parents and their grasping young daughters are interested in us. Or, more specifically, in being the next Duchess of Langdon and Blackwood. I have no intention of letting them have their way.”

“I always knew I’d have to marry one day,” Stephen admitted. “But our legacies matter, don’t they? If we have no heirs, our fortunes and estates will be passed on to strangers. And that’s the best-case scenario. If there are no heirs, our titles will become extinct. Of course, when it comes to marriage, you have many more things to consider. Kitty, for a start.”

“That seems to be worrying you a great deal more than it worries me. Perhaps because you’re the one who pores over all those history books and dusty old genealogies. I myself prefer to live life, you know.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I simply do not know why I try to talk to you about serious matters, Theo.”

Theodore grinned, draining his brandy glass.

The two men had been friends for years. Decades, likely. At the age of thirty—almost!—he had been the Duke of Langdon for nine long years. Stephen had inherited his dukedom on the same night. Their fathers had been close friends and were killed in the same carriage accident. Perhaps that was why Society connected the two so often.

Physically, they were opposites. Stephen was very tall, at least six and a half feet, and he was slim and elegant. He had broad shoulders and a tapering waist, white skin, blue-black hair, fine slate-gray eyes, and the sort of face one might see on a Grecian statue.

Theodore considered himself a more earthy man. He was tall, just a hand shorter than his friend. He had dark red hair, a deep auburn that could be considered a reddish brown in most lights. He had freckles, but only in the summer, and the body of a farm laborer rather than a duke.

His eyes were blue—the most common color in all of England, it seemed—and his face might have graced the sculpture of an unenthusiastic dilettante. He didn’t enjoy dressing well, and his hair always seemed to be a little too long and unkempt for Society’s liking. At the moment, for instance, it curled down to his collar and was pushed back from his forehead and behind his ears in quick, rough gestures, entirely without pomade or styling.

He couldn’t even remember if he’d brushed it that morning.

“Why are you not at Henry’s wedding, Theo?”

He flinched, the question taking him by surprise. It wasn’t wholly unexpected, though. Stephen knew the story, and they’d all heard the wedding bells that morning.

“Why should I go?” he responded, eyeing his now-empty brandy glass.

Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “Because he’s your younger brother, and he is getting married today.”

“He’s marrying a penniless fool of a girl. He’s bending to the pressure from Society, and no doubt fancies himself a knight in shining armor.”

“The gossip papers could talk of nothing else,” Stephen remarked, getting up to refill their glasses. “The two had apparently been friends for years, and Society gave up all hope of their making a match of it. It seems to be rather sweet. Have you met the girl?”

“No, I have not. You know how I avoid meeting people.”

“True,” Stephen acknowledged, sitting down. “But you ought to take a leaf out of Henry’s book, truly. Kitty is… she’s such a sweet girl, but little girls need their mothers. She’s growing up fast, and I know that raising her has been difficult for you. You need somebody by your side. She needs a mother , which means that you need a wife. If I were you, I’d choose a bride this very Season.”

Before Theodore could respond, there was a discreet tap on the door. The butler entered, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

“Your Grace, there… there is a woman here to see you.”

Theodore arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She’s in rather a state, Your Grace. I only admitted her at all because she is… well, you will see.”

“What? For heaven’s sake, Timmins, tell me.”

The butler let out a long, slow breath. “She appears to be a bride, Your Grace.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Stephen let out a hoot of triumph. “Well, that’s a sign if ever I heard one! Send her in, Timmins, send her in!”

The girl—the bride —arrived like a whirlwind.

Theodore had already half-guessed who she might be. There was a thundering of footsteps in the hall, and the door swung open to admit a harried-looking young woman in a worse-for-wear white gown.

“Miss Belmont, I assume,” Theodore remarked, languidly rising to his feet. Stephen, already annoyingly proper, was standing already. “How was the wedding?”

He wasn’t sure what he expected in response to his comment. Tears, perhaps? Anger? It was clear that something had gone wrong, and Theodore had a feeling he would be reading all about it in tomorrow’s gossip columns.

The very same columns that he read in secret, and had so freely mocked Stephen for reading.

The girl entirely ignored him. Theodore blinked, conscious of a flutter of irritation. She darted around the study, her head swinging from side to side.

She’s looking for something. Someone, I’d wager.

The girl was in a state. Her hair was coming out of the elaborate updo, falling over her shoulders in messy locks. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and were those dead flowers in her hair? Goodness.

The dress was ruined.

The silk hem had clearly been inches deep in mud and dirty London puddle water, and there were several tears he could see even from where he was standing.

There were some smears of what seemed to be pollen around her waist and a worryingly vivid spot of blood. She held no flowers in her hands, and her face was gray and pinched with worry.

Without looking their way, she pointed vaguely towards the window. “I hired a hackney to get here,” she said flatly. Her voice wobbled, sounding rather strained. “I told him I had money, but of course, I don’t. Could you pay him, please?”

Theodore opened his mouth to tell her to get out of his home immediately and take her disgusting dress with her, but Stephen quickly interceded.

“I shall deal with that at once,” he said gracefully, executing a neat bow which the girl did not notice. He left the room, shooting Theodore a meaningful look that he could not quite fathom.

“I assume you are the Duke of Langdon, then,” the girl said, still looking around as if she expected to see Henry crouching behind a sofa. “Henry’s brother. The one who didn’t come to the wedding. You didn’t even reply to the invitation. Although that was probably for the best.”

“If you don’t tell me what is going on,” Theodore snapped, “I shall have you removed. If you are expecting me to be a gentlemanly, chivalrous sort of man, solicitous about a distressed female, you are about to be seriously disappointed.”

The girl—Miss Belmont, it had to be Miss Belmont—drew in a deep, ragged breath. She didn’t seem to have even noticed his sharp words. Her gaze was distant, inward-looking. Whatever was troubling her, it was occupying her whole mind.

“You will see, if you glance at the clock, that it is one and a half hours since I was meant to be married to your brother. To Henry. And here I am, unmarried. I am Miss Belmont still. He never arrived, Sir.”

Theo sighed. “It’s Your Grace, actually. Not Sir . Do excuse my correction.”

She was not listening. No tears, no hysterics, just a dry sort of panic, increasing with each passing moment.

The papers, Theo thought resignedly, are going to have a wonderful time with this story.

“Where is he?” Miss Belmont burst out. “Is he here? I want to speak to him. I must speak to him.”

It was clear that the girl was on the cusp of a meltdown. Theodore took a tentative step closer, not sure whether the girl was going to do something like attack him, or scream, or launch herself out of the window.

“Henry is not here,” he said firmly. “Tell me what is going on.”

A kernel of worry lodged itself in his gut. There were a number of things that could have happened between here and the church. Footpads, carriage accidents, a sudden fit of apoplexy that robbed Henry of his breath and left him face-down in a filthy puddle.

Miss Belmont took out a crumpled, folded piece of paper and wordlessly shoved it towards him. He recognized Henry’s handwriting at once. The message was short but extremely eloquent.

I’m sorry.

Ah.

He bit his lip, folding the paper carefully. “I see,” he said slowly.

“So,” Miss Belmont said, sounding exhausted. “Where is he? I just want to talk to him.”

Theodore let out a sigh. “He’s not here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged. “Don’t believe me, then. You won’t be allowed to search my home, so my word is all you’ll have.”

She was breathing heavily again, and he wondered if she had been running. She must have earned herself a few stares, running through the streets like that. Hiring a hackney when she didn’t have the money to pay for it.

“He promised,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. “Perhaps I pressured him a little too much, but we’re friends. We’re friends ! I thought… Oh, what does it matter what I thought? I bought this ridiculous, expensive dress because of him.”

“I don’t believe that’s quite true, Miss Belmont,” Theodore drawled. “Henry bought the dress, and Henry has no money, you know. He gets an allowance—a generous one—from me, which I suppose would have kept you comfortable. However, I am the one who bought that dress for you. You’ve been remarkably careless with it. Really, I should ask you to give it back this moment, as you have clearly ruined it.”

Her head snapped up, her gaze accusatory. Theodore felt a twinge of guilt. He reminded himself that he was talking to a gently-bred lady, not one of the girls at his favorite, less-than-savory haunts.

“Listen,” he continued, waving the folded piece of paper. “This note is very clear.”

“It isn’t,” she insisted, shaking her head. “There must be something else. A note, a letter, a…”

“Henry has jilted you, that’s the plain truth. Now, it’s not exactly gentlemanly behavior, but I believe a little bad behavior is worthwhile in order to avoid a lifetime of misery.”

She stared at him, her eyes remarkably large and green. She was pretty, he acknowledged, possessing a combination of beauty and spirit that would have drawn him across the room at the controversial Clara’s Heart, his favorite club.

Club was perhaps a grandiose word, but never mind.

“What are you trying to say, Sir?” she snapped. “A lifetime of misery? I intended to make him happy. We are friends.”

“Perhaps, but it’s clear that Henry did not want this marriage. Otherwise, you would be Lady Stanley right now. To be frank, Madam, you must have trapped him into it.”

There was a half-minute of silence. Then Miss Belmont flew across the room, swinging her hand back.

Even as Theodore realized in amazement that she intended to slap him, his arm came up of its own accord. His hand wrapped neatly around her wrist, effectively blocking the blow.

They stood there for a heartbeat or two, her breaths coming hard and fast. She seemed almost surprised he’d blocked her blow.

“That,” Theodore said levelly, “was not very ladylike. And in my own house, too.”

She had the grace to blush.

Yanking her hand free, she spun away from him. “You provoked me!”

“I believe I spoke only the truth, my dear. My brother and I do not see eye to eye on many matters—least of all this marriage—but I don’t wish to see him miserable. And nor will I turn him over to you, even if I knew where he was.”

She stood stock-still for a moment, her back turned to him.

The wretched girl belongs in an asylum.

Then she let out a short wail, pressed her hands to her face, and crumbled to the floor in a flurry of white silk and long locks of black hair, hunching over.

Theodore eyed her warily. “What are you doing now, Miss Belmont?”

“He was my last chance,” she said, her voice low and tight, and he realized with a jolt that she was crying. “I didn’t care about him being rich, I just needed to save my mother and sisters. My father’s debt has never left us alone. Three years he’s been dead, and we’re still poor as church mice. Getting poorer, in fact. I fully intended to make Henry happy. I didn’t… didn’t expect a proper marriage, you know? He’s never wanted to marry. I couldn’t care less about children and a doting husband. I know… I know it’s not what Henry wanted. I would have made him happy if I could. Things could have gone on as before. I suppose a true friend wouldn’t have put him through such a thing.”

Theodore chewed on his lower lip. He wished Stephen would return. The wretched man was likely kicking his heels in the hallway downstairs, leaving him to sort all this out.

Theodore edged around the room until he could get a proper look at Miss Belmont’s face. Her expression was blank and exhausted. Her hands hung limp in her lap, and she was staring off into space.

“I’ve ruined everything,” she whispered to herself more than anyone else. “I don’t have a dowry, so nobody wanted to marry me before. But after this … well, nobody will ever have me.”

Theodore took a hesitant step forward, before dropping into a crouch. “Are you angry with Henry?”

She nodded. She paused. She shook her head.

“He’s my friend,” she said helplessly. “I love him like a brother. I should never have put him in this position, but I so badly wanted to save us. It’s over, though. I’ve run out of ideas.”

Theodore watched her for a long moment, then let out a long, heavy sigh. “I might have one more idea for you.”

She glanced his way, looking him properly in the eye for the first time since she’d barged in. Her eyes narrowed, and he saw intelligence flickering in them. And a hearty amount of skepticism.

“What do you mean?”

“I shall have to find Henry, of course.” Theodore shrugged. “Can’t let my only brother disappear into thin air. But I won’t stand by and see him condemned to a loveless marriage, regardless of how good your intentions are. You and Henry are not a match, I’m afraid.”

Miss Belmont pressed her lips together, glancing to the side. “I would like to know that Henry is safe, at the very least.”

“Good. Good. But you, Miss Belmont… you are exactly what I am looking for.”

She returned her gaze to him, simmering with anger and outrage. Theodore wondered, just briefly, what unpleasant offers had been made to her in the past to make her react in such a way.

“Oh?” she snapped. “And what is it, exactly, Your Grace , that you are looking for?”

His face broke into the wide smile he’d been told made him look like a hungry fox.

“Miss Belmont, I am looking for a duchess.”

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