Chapter 1

"Where is he?" John de Blois burst straight through the door, his eyes bulging and his after-dinner claret showing in his cheeks.

At his bureau sat William Rothingham, quill in his hand. The study was well-appointed, with a solid oak writing bureau and finely carved wooden chair furnishing it grandly.

However, for the third duke of Iverst, this modest townhouse seemed hideously cramped. The family estate in Kent was where his real home was, and right then, it was where he longed to be. London was not somewhere Will felt like home. It was full of pox, flux, and bad air. Every winter it was cursed by the plague, and every summer it was visited by the sweat.

If that was not enough, it was also in the middle of an unfortunate little quarrel called the War of the Roses. So, all in all, London was a place Will could not wait to leave.

At thirty years of age, William was more than averagely handsome, with well-set features and thick black hair. His blue eyes lit any room he was in, and it seemed certain he would have any pick of the ladies about town.

But William had no time for women. In fact, he had no time for anything. Helping his beleaguered king and running his estates was more than enough use of his energies. A woman would only complicate things.

However, sometimes a brother could be just as bad. Because at the first sign of John de Blois, Will knew instinctively this was about Trenton.

And he was not wrong.

"I know he"s in here!" snarled John, a man around thirty with a pronounced paunch. His pudgy English face was drawn into a tight frown.

Will, who had been trying to determine what should be done with habitual drunkard Jack Clott, set down his quill.

"John?" he said concernedly. Jack"s fate would have to wait, as John de Blois was pacing the lengths of the room, threatening to wear out the thick rug. "Who are referring to?"

"Trenton, o" course!" snapped John.

Wearily, Will sighed. "What has he done now?"

Trenton was Will"s twenty-year-old brother, whose only discernible talent was keeping the local gossip-mongers at work.

"What has he done?" huffed John, as Will sat back in his chair and waited. Obviously, he was going to get the full nine yards from John. Pouring a fresh glass of claret, Will resigned himself to a wasted afternoon.

"Here, John," he said, offering his friend the drink. With barely a word, John took the wine and drank it whole. Will watched as his face colored bright scarlet and then back to white again.

After a theatrical promenade of the room, he turned to Will.

"He has only taken my horse!"spluttered John, taking a handkerchief and wiping claret from his whiskers.

Will looked in puzzlement. This was not the worst that he was expecting. However, the trick with someone like John—a man he knew well—was to play it straight. It would never do to let him think that he was not taking him seriously.

John was rich and powerful. But of common stock, and as such, had rather a chip on his shoulder.

Straining his brow, Will pretended to think. "Hmm, well, I am sure I can compensate you for any loss. I assume the horse has been returned? If not, I can?—"

But John shot him dead. "Sir, you have not heard the best part yet. The horse is at the bottom of the pond, with my best knight on it."

Will"s expression changed. His mouth opened in surprise. "Pardon?" he said, sitting up, listening.

John strutted around the study before turning back to Will. "Just like I said, sir, the horse is at the bottom of the pond…or was when I last looked!"

"B-But," spluttered Will. "Is it alive?"

His eyes were wide with shock, but inside, his head was spinning. Just what had his brother done now?

John de Blois glared at him as if he were an imbecile. For a moment, Will feared the worst. Then John conceded. "Well, it was when I left the place. The cursed beast got its leg caught in the undergrowth. It got a whole team of them trying to pull the daft bugger out." His eyes flashed to Will"s. "Which is more than I can say about your brother, being the one that put him in there. Although I would like dearly to put him in there too right now!"

After ages of struggling, Will finally lost patience.

"John," he said firmly, "can you tell me, kindly, what has happened in detail?"

John gave him another one of his looks. Then he conceded. "Your brother organized a race or some such frippery. Between him and my best knight, Stevens. Well, I suppose you might say he won it."

John"s eyebrows raised theatrically. "He collected several pounds in prizes before gallivanting off to his next catastrophe!"

Will"s eyes opened wide. So he actually has some money? he thought. But of course, he said none of this. And besides, he still needed to get to the bottom of what had actually occurred.

"Well, then, John, I am not sure how this is..."

"How this is his fault, you mean? I tell you, it is. He plied the other riders with drink—and the horse, for all I know. Raced at a foolhardy speed and coursed all the way through the hunting grounds, whereupon he fell in the pond."

Will screwed his eyes tightly. "Trenton fell in the pond? But I thought you said that?—"

John de Blois turned to him sharply. "He did. And it was down to my poor knight to rescue him."

Will blinked. This tale was grating on him. He wished that John would just get to the point.

"So, Trenton fell in the pond but won the race?" said Will, his mind marveling.

"Indeed," huffed John brusquely. Then, he turned sharply to Will and looked him up and down. "Sir, I am not furnished with all the particulars of this harebrained scheme. Only that Trenton took my horse and jumped it into the water, where it stuck hard. And it has taken a team of my top men to extricate the creature. I should be incredibly lucky if it ever runs again!"

Will sighed. Finally, he had come to the point.

"I see," he said delicately, while wishing to send Trenton and the riders of the drunken race to the bottom of the sea, never mind the millpond. "I shall compensate you for your lack of palfrey."

"Destrier," said John abruptly. "Large destrier—large, expensive destrier!"

Will stubbed his thumb with the quill tip, sending black ink splurging everywhere. Of course, it is. Nothing Trenton ever does is cheap. Setting his quill forth, Will got ready to write down the cost.

"Pray tell me, John, how much do you need?" he said plainly.

"Seventy pounds, seven shillings, and sixpence," said John crisply.

Will nearly choked on his teeth.

"Um, huh," he said, coughing into his sleeve. "Very well. I shall have it sent along in due course. In the meantime, pray take this note as proof of intent. And once again, I am very sorry."

The wind out of his sails, John took the parchment meekly. Perhaps he was not expecting such an easy victory. Under normal circumstances, Will would have bargained a little further, asked a few more questions. But right then, he was all fought out. Having just returned from battle, he had precious little energy left for engaging in more. Especially not with tailors, no matter how glorified they might be.

It just was not worth his energy or reputation—both of which were being successfully ripped to shreds by his younger brother.

"Well, ah, thank you," said John, with a conciliatory nod. "And I will bid you good day, sir," he said, smiling. As he turned to go, Will could not escape the feeling that he had somehow just been swindled.

"Good day, John," said Will miserably, waiting for the door to shut. Only when he was sure he was gone did he stand up.

His temper at boiling point, Will paced the chamber. At every turn, he glanced about, poking and prodding at the furnishings as if searching for something. Sure enough, there was a rustling from the corner. Moments later, the ottoman opened, and up popped Trenton.

"Is it safe?" whispered Trenton, his whey-face looking especially pale that afternoon. He clambered out of the box, dusting himself down. Will noted that he had yet another new silk doublet.

Fury building, Will snapped, "Safe?"

He thumped Trenton in the ear. Immediately, he fell.

"Safe? From him? Or me?" Will asked, as Trenton pulled himself up, rubbing his ear. "Or even from yourself? Because I do not know the answer to that question, Brother!"

Trenton blinked, his watery green eyes watching Will uncertainly. Will struggled hard to keep his temper in check.

"Seventy pounds, Trenton!" he yelled.

Trenton eyed him unsurely. His long fingers struggled with his chaperon, which was unraveling all over.

"Seventy pounds for a palfrey?" he said, incredulous.

Will snapped. "A destrier, Trenton. Did you not notice what you were riding?"

Trenton pulled a frown. "Is that what he told you?" he said, smirking. "That poor mare? A destrier?"

And to Will"s deep irritation, Trenton fell to laughter.

"Zooks, Brother, he has taken you for a total lubber. Seventy pounds for a palfrey! Poor thing looked midget bitten. I"d value it as much as a three-legged ass."

Will"s temper did not improve. "That"s not the point," he cried, although, actually, it might well have been. The strong suspicion that he might just have been hoodwinked did not help repair his humor one bit.

"The fact is, once again, our family name has been dragged through the mud."

"Rather through the pond, in this case, Brother, what ho...har har!" smirked Trenton.

Will stared incomprehensibly at Trenton before suddenly swinging at him again. This time he missed, with Trenton darting under the bureau and refusing to move.

"Get out of there! Get out of there and answer me this. How are you going to repay me seventy pounds? And moreover, restore your reputation in London Town?" Will hissed.

He could not help it. He was totally beside himself. Nothing set him off quite like Trenton did. For a few moments, he lost control, kicking blindly at the table legs. He was so lost in his own fury that he did not hear the creaking of the study door.

"William!"

His mother"s voice snapped him right out of himself. Horrified, Will jumped around.

"Mother," he said coolly as, finally, Trenton came out.

"William, Trenton, what is the meaning of this? I can hear your voices down the hall."

Dusting himself down for a second time, Trenton, wore an expression of injured innocence, one he was wont to show in the presence of their mother.

"Trenton has just cost our family seventy whole pounds," huffed Will, his blue eyes jutting around to Trenton"s.

"No, Brother, you did that. As I told you, the full cost of that nag was tuppence ha"penny."

Standing before them both, the duchess stared incomprehensibly. "Will, you speak in riddles," she complained. "Someone explain."

William was not even slightly placated. Fury shone in his blue eyes as he stared at Trenton.

"As usual, Trenton fails to understand the cost to our reputation his foolish games have earned."

The duchess"s eyes went from Trenton, back to Will, and then Trenton again.

Trying his arm, Trenton gazed mournfully at his mother. "Mother, "tis all a terrible misunderstanding. I just had a tiny accident in a millpond."

"With a destrier," pressed Will.

Trenton snarked back, "Palfrey."

"Horse," said Will, with a snort. "The fact is, it was not his to ride, let alone crash into a lake with. Mother, when is Trenton ever going to grow up and accept his family responsibility?"

"Trenton," quipped the duchess mildly. But she made no real efforts at remonstrating with him.

She wouldn"t, thought Will. He knew full well Trenton was her favorite.

"Dearest, I am sure it was all a silly misunderstanding," said the duchess, hoping to smooth things over. "Perhaps Trenton will apologize."

Unfortunately, her conciliatory methods did not pay dividends. Both brothers still stared poison at each other, and Will longed to bury his quill point in Trenton"s head.

"Trenton will not apologize," cursed Trenton, finally giving up re-wrapping the chaperon. It flopped open ridiculously. "Trenton actually won some money, but none of you have even given me any credit for it. Five whole pounds, four shillings, and tuppence!"

Will could not resist a snark.

"Well that"s still a deficit of sixty-five pounds, three shillings, and one groat!" he hissed, as Trenton perfected his look of affronted outrage. "I will be sending Jack Clott to the stocks for breaking a window valued a shilling, so think on!"

"Will," he said pityingly, "I feel sorry for you. You only ever think in numbers. There is more to life than money."

Will nearly chewed his own lip off.

"Yes, that"s easy to say when you"re not paying." He sounded gruff, but Trenton did not hear him. He was already on the way out.

Finally, it was left to him and his mother. There was a pause in which Will tried sorely to control his own annoyance.

His mother smiled weakly.

"Will, he will come around," she exhorted, "Take heart."

The dowager duchess looked at him keenly, a sudden spark in her aged eyes. But for all her attempts at peace, Will could only feel irritation.

"Surely, you remember what it was to be joyful and young?"

Will"s annoyance flashed in his eyes.

"Sorry, Mother, I do not," he said pointedly, before heading to the door. "I, for one, have never been young."