1. An Invitation on a Rainy Day

June 1816, the rainiest month in England’s history

For the briefest of moments, Baron David Engleston was sure the sun had made an appearance through the gray clouds that hovered over his manor house near Kent. A rare event given it hadn’t stopped raining for more than a few hours for the entire month of June.

He rushed to the window in his study and stared out in an attempt to catch a glimpse, but it was too late. A shroud once again hid the ball of light.

“Should we build an ark, sir?” Peters asked from the study’s threshold.

David gave his portly butler a quelling glance as he tightened his greatcoat around his body. Despite the constant fires that had been set in all the fireplaces of Engleston Park, a chill still permeated the air. “How are the horses?” he asked, worried the stable might have flooded by now.

“Mr. Cooper let them out. Said they were restless,” Peters replied, referring to the groom who saw to the six geldings, two shires, and a single stallion that made up the bulk of the animals on the estate. A few chickens, a single cow, and the sheepdog, who at that moment could be found under David’s desk, made up the rest. The dog had been keeping his feet warm that morning as he saw to updating the estate’s ledgers.

“I know how they feel,” David replied. “Has Mr. Tuttlebaum paid a call?” The farmer was one of three who worked the farmlands to the east of Engleston Park. Their tenant cottages were located on the outskirts of the nearest village. David feared the thatched roofs of the two-room domiciles might have begun to leak. If he had to pay for repairs, the emergency funds he had set aside upon the death of his father would be nearly depleted.

“He’s in the kitchens with Mrs. Wright,” Peters replied.

David’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you inform me he was here?”

The butler’s eyes darted to the right before he said, “He asked that he be allowed a few minutes alone with the housekeeper before I announced him.”

Blinking, David considered this bit of news before his eyes rounded. “Is he finally proposing marriage?” he asked in alarm. His oldest tenant farmer had held a candle for his housekeeper for as long as he had been a baron, a title he had inherited when his father died of pneumonia ten years earlier.

The reminder of marriage had David wincing. At thirty-three years of age, he had yet to take a wife, which meant he didn’t have an heir. The nursery on the third floor of the country manor remained as it had been when he was but a young boy, as did the nursery in the family’s townhouse in Westminster.

“One can only hope, my lord,” Peters replied on a long sigh. “Given the poor growing season, he may be asking that she wait yet another year.”

David grimaced. Although he didn’t rely entirely on the income from the crops grown at Engleston Park to make his living, his tenant farmers did. Everything that had been planted in March and April had drowned with the incessant rains. In an effort to stave off complete starvation, he had funded the building of several greenhouses near the tenant cottages and ordered that the farmers grow whatever they could beneath the oil cloth-covered buildings.

That had been a month ago.

“Do you suppose he’s done with his proposal?” David asked, nodding in the direction of the kitchens. He almost envied the farmer. Not only had Tuttlebaum found a potential wife, he was in the warmest room of the house. “Because I could really use a cup of tea about now, and I’d like to drink it in the kitchens.”

“Of course, my lord,” Peters replied. He stepped aside as David made his way out of the study and down the long corridor leading to the back of the house.

In the past, he would have paused before the portrait of his late father to regard the familiar visage—one he stared at every morning in a mirror whilst he was shaving.

Today he stopped to regard the painting next to it, one of his mother. Lady Eva Engleston was still alive, preferring to live in London year-round. Although David had feared she would spend her inheritance quickly and require him to support her, she had surprised him by practicing frugality in her purchases. “I’m no longer invited to all the best balls,” she told him on one occasion. “And unlike most of my iIk, I am not beholden to the latest fashions from Paris.”

At the time, David remembered telling her she could buy whatever she liked. He could afford it.

Now... now he wasn’t so sure. This year’s income from his business in London was at risk. Rain had put a damper on shopping and threatened the livelihood of anyone who depended on farming for their incomes. The lack of good crops from the year before certainly didn’t help the situation. Food was expensive, and the chilly weather meant everyone was forced to buy more coal for their fireplaces. Only those who owned coal mines would see a profit this year.

As he stared at Lady Engleston, David wondered if he would be lucky enough to find a woman as steadfast and as wise as his mother. If he did, would she be able to live with him?

Would he be able to live with her?

At the moment, he realized he would have to do so. He couldn’t afford to hire a mistress, let alone pay the rent on a townhouse and cover the cost of her modiste and fripperies.

How did other aristocrats manage when their incomes were at risk?

He found Mr. Tuttlebaum seated at the trestle in the middle of the room where the servants ate their meals. Hat in hand, the man appeared as if he had lost his best friend.

“Did she say ‘no’?” David asked as he stopped before the dejected man.

Frank Tuttlebaum glanced up, obviously startled to discover the owner of his farmlands regarding him with an expression of worry. He quickly stood and gave a short bow. “I didn’t ask Mrs. Wright for her hand, my lord,” he replied.

David leaned over to glance through the arched doorway that led to the kitchens. When he didn’t spy the housekeeper, he turned his attention back to the farmer. “Why ever not? I thought you two would be wed by now.”

Frank’s eyes rounded as his face took on the color of a beet. “Oh, well, I told her I intend to, sir,” he said. “So as she doesn’t go acceptin’ someone else’s suit ’afore mine.”

Angling his head to one side, David prompted, “And?”

“She sounded disappointed but not surprised, sir.”

“So... what has you looking so glum?”

Sighing loudly, the farmer pulled out a few missives from his coat pocket and held them out to David. “Oh, it’s just the infernal weather, sir. Although it has given me the chance to sharpen the blades and do some indoor repairs.” He forced a grin. “The mail coach stopped in the village, and seein’ how I was there, I told the driver I could deliver these here letters to you.”

“Thank you,” David replied, rifling through the envelopes. Nothing looked important, but he recognized the writing on one as belonging to a good friend in London. “How are the greenhouses working out?”

“Oh, very good, sir. The stuff we planted is startin’ to come up just fine, and those lemon trees you gave us from your orangery are looking right as rain.” He winced. “Pardon the pun, sir.”

David chuckled. “Well, see to it you get some luncheon before you head back out there,” he said, glad when the cook appeared with a steaming cup of tea and set it on the trestle.

“Afternoon, my lord,” she said as she dipped a curtsy. “Would you like tea?”

“It’s why I’ve come,” David acknowledged.

“I can bring it to your study, sir,” she offered.

“I would prefer to drink it where it will stay warm,” he replied, setting the missives on the table so he could remove his coat. “If Mr. Tuttlebaum doesn’t mind a bit of company.”

Franks’ eyes rounded again. “Oh, I don’t mind at all, sir,” he said.

“I’ll see to it right away,” Margaret said before she turned to Frank and added, “I’ve got some cheese and a dish of beef soup about ready for you.”

“Much appreciated, Margaret,” Frank replied.

“Soup sounds good for me, too, if there’s enough,” David said, his stomach growling despite the breakfast she had made for him earlier that morning.

“Of course there is, sir, although you’ll be having it again with your dinner tonight,” she warned. She disappeared into the kitchens as David broke the wax seals from his letters.

As he unfolded the one from his friend, a pasteboard cream calling card fell onto the table. He picked it up and studied the engraved script. The words “Soho Club” and its address were printed on one side along with the words “Show for admittance” in much smaller print at the bottom.

Curious as to why his friend would send the card, he took a moment to read the letter.

Dear Lord Engleston,

I hope this letter finds you high and dry. I understand you have suffered as much rain as we have here in the capital. Glum weather begets gloomy friends, hence I have decided it is time we hole up at the Soho Club for a few days of games and dancing.

You’re not that far away, there is nothing of importance happening with this much rain falling, and you are not wed, so you have no excuse not to join us. The games begin Tuesday afternoon. Bring your pennies, and we may even play for money. Oh, and bring the card. You’ll need it for admittance to the club and your room.

Sincerely yours,

Dicky

Post scriptum. If you’re still unwed, perhaps we can find you a suitable bride here in London before you return to Engleston Park. About damned time you be betrothed. You’re not getting any younger.

Chuckling at the insistent tone of the letter as well as by Richard Copper’s postscript, David was at first tempted to send his regrets. Although he really should be on the hunt for a bride, he had thought to put it off until the next Season started. The reminder of rain in the capital had him reconsidering. If other aristocrats were suffering crop losses due to all the rain, they might not have the funds to offer decent dowries. Given his dwindling bank account, David was afraid he would require part of a dowry to get by until the weather improved.

He once again glanced at the Soho Club card as he considered his decision. Richard, Earl of Penhurst, had a point. The weather had made him glum. Perhaps a trip to London would do him some good. Give him an opportunity to pay a call on his tailor and visit his favorite stationer. Mayhap take in a show at one of the theatres with his mother. Enjoy some cards and dancing at the Soho Club. If he wasn’t happy with the accommodations, he could always stay in his rooms at the Cleveland Row townhouse where he lived during the Season.

When Margaret delivered a tea tray complete with biscuits and cake along with bowls of soup for both him and Frank, David felt decidedly warmer.

The two men enjoyed their luncheons in relative quiet, each lost in their own thoughts about their immediate futures as unmarried men.

David was quite sure Frank Tuttlebaum had some experience when it came to women. When he was younger, the farmer had been a strapping lad, attracting the attention of the girls in the nearby village. He continued to enjoy female companionship throughout his middle years. Now that he was older, he was finally of a mind to take a wife.

As for David, painful shyness and a gangly body had prevented him from enjoying those same attentions. By the time he had inherited the barony, though, his frame and face had filled out so he looked more like his father had at that age. Taking his place in Parliament had forced him to speak with the other lords. Forced him to learn the basics of conversing with his peers.

However, if a woman so much as looked at him, other than in a dance where the moves prevented easy banter, he glanced away or hurried off. The alternative—to stand his ground and actually carry on his side of a conversation—wasn’t something he could abide. As a result, David found himself at the age of thirty-three not only unmarried, but inexperienced when it came to bedding a woman.

The Rt. Honorable Lord Engleston, sixth baron Engleston, was still a virgin.