Chapter 3

Thomas McCallister, the Earl of Bedford, descended from the coach and stretched his legs, which had grown stiff and sore during the long ride. While he loved working on the continent and Ireland, travelling to and from those places was an exhausting endeavour.

It seemed as though either the roads worsened each time he returned or that his body ached more than before. Perhaps, all that travelling was beginning to leave its mark on his body. He gave Matthew, the driver, an acknowledging nod and set a leisurely pace towards his townhouse. It was a warm spring day, cloudless and filled with birdsong.

As he reached the townhouse, the door opened. Geoffrey, the aged butler, bowed. "Welcome home, My Lord."

"Thank you."

"You have a guest. Lord Worthington wanted to greet you upon arrival."

Thomas sheepishly raked a hand through his dark hair. He was certain that the hours spent in the coach had left him looking a little ragged. Samuel, Lord Worthington, would not care if Thomas looked a little rough, but Thomas still disliked meeting anyone while looking anything less than perfect. "How long has he been waiting?" Thomas asked.

"Two hours, My Lord," Geoffrey said. "He asked to wait for you in your study. Lord Worthington said that if he did not greet you upon arrival, you would devise some means to avoid him."

Thomas barked in laughter. As reluctant as he was to admit it, his friend made a compelling case. "He is likely right," Thomas admitted, thinking about the financial records and correspondence awaiting him. "Samuel has never understood the importance of hard work."

Most of the ton did not. They preferred to leave such things to their solicitors and other staff, but not Thomas.

"I will see him now."

Thomas hurried up the stairs and towards his study, smiling and nodding at the staff who greeted him as he passed. His study door was open, and Samuel had already made himself comfortable at Thomas' desk. Samuel had always had a habit of lounging all over the place. It was something that Thomas had first observed at Eton that continued to Cambridge and now—it seemed—into the present.

Thomas clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Samuel's head snapped up from the book he had been reading. "It has been some time since we last spoke," Thomas said. "I am glad to see that you are well."

"McCallister!" Samuel said cheerfully. "I was beginning to worry you might not even come home!"

"I did consider leaving once I heard you were here."

Samuel gasped, feigning offence. "Oh, how dare I try to pull you away from your business for a single evening of pleasure and delight? Truly, I am a villain beyond compare!"

"You are," Thomas said dryly. "I am quite sure that I read something about you being cast to Hell in the Bible."

Samuel snorted. "You should not use the Lord's word in such a blasphemous way."

"Hm."

"I think we should share a few drinks and visit the theatre," Samuel said, undeterred by Thomas' attempts to distract him. "There is a theatre putting on a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, which I know is your preferred Shakespearean comedy."

Thomas shook his head, fighting against a smile. "I have just returned from being in Ireland for weeks. Have you considered that I may want rest?"

"I wish you would rest," Samuel said, climbing to his feet. "But I know you too well. There is no doubt in my mind that you want to spend the evening working, even though you just returned from weeks of work in Ireland. You will probably start with all the correspondence you have received since leaving. I have hidden it, by the way."

"Excuse me?" Thomas asked. "You cannot simply decide to hide my correspondence! There are likely many important missives in there that need my attention!"

"Indeed," Samuel replied. "That is why I shall reveal where I have hidden your correspondence after our visit to the theatre. Since you are unable to answer any of it until then, you have no reason to deny me."

Thomas grimaced. He was not really angry with his friend. Over their many years of friendship, Thomas had learned how Samuel behaved. Sometimes, Thomas had to endure some mischief. Still, Samuel was vexing him at the moment. "I can think of many reasons," Thomas said.

Samuel shook his head and brandished a decanter of brandy. "None of them are good!" He filled two glasses and pushed one across the desk, nearer to Thomas. "Drink with me. You know that I will argue you into submission eventually, so it is best to just comply."

Thomas sighed. "If I must. As loathe as I am to admit it, I could likely do with a good drink."

"Ah, trouble in Ireland?"

Thomas shook his head and drank a long sip of brandy, savouring the familiar burning sensation. "No, Ireland was lovely. My father's will, however, is anything but."

"Oh?"

Thomas sat in an empty chair while Samuel perched irreverently on the desk's edge. "It seems that my father arranged a marriage for me to the daughter of Lord Norwood."

"Oh, no," Samuel said. "You must marry a beautiful woman! How will you survive?"

Thomas cast him a vexed look, drawing a laugh from his friend. "If you would treat the matter with even a small amount of decorum, I would appreciate it. This matter is quite serious."

"Apologies," Samuel replied, looking a little contrite. "But some of us have to court and woo women, and despite our best efforts to win the love of ladies, we still remain bachelors."

"Perhaps, if you tried to win the love of fewer ladies, marriage would not be such an insurmountable obstacle."

"Inconceivable. The fault surely lies in the fathers of such ladies, who want their daughters to wed only for money and nothing else. I wish that my father had arranged something so I could at least have that matter handled. My wife and I could always come to an understanding."

Samuel always had a rather pragmatic and unromantic view of marriage. He was an odd man, eager for passion and love, and yet Samuel insisted that he would likely find neither with a wife. Once, Thomas had dubiously asked if his friend intended on never marrying and thought he should be an eternal bachelor, finding pleasure in a litany of willing ladies. Samuel had arched an eyebrow and replied that such a life sounded rather wonderful.

"At least you have the opportunity to wed an interesting woman. You have no one telling you who that lady should or should not be. You could wed a dairymaid if you wanted. Meanwhile, I am being forced to wed a woman of the ton, a lady whom I am certain knows nothing about hard work or the real world," Thomas said. "I would rather remain unwed than married to such a lady."

Samuel sipped his drink, looking thoughtful. "Then, refuse to marry her. It would not be the first engagement to fail, and assuming that your father has not told everyone about the engagement, there would not even be any shame for either you or the young woman."

Thomas clenched his jaw. "I cannot do that. If I do not marry her, I am to give half my fortune to her stepmother, Lady Norwood. How is that for gratitude? I spend years seeing to the success of my father's business, only to be forced into this impossible situation. What was my father thinking?"

Samuel's face softened with sympathy. "I am sure he meant well."

"Well," Thomas said, warmth spreading across his face. "There are far better ways that he could have done it than giving half of Sinclair McCallister to a woman I have never met, to a woman I did not even know existed until a few months ago."

Samuel pressed his lips together in a line, looking thoughtful. "I mean this kindly, McCallister."

I mean this kindly was Samuel's favourite phrase, usually before he said something he knew Thomas would find disagreeable.

Thomas sighed. "I am sure it will sound terrible regardless, but I know that nothing I say will stop you."

"If you had not declined all the ton's invitations over the years, you would know who Lady Norwood is."

Thomas finished his brandy and filled the glass again. He cast his friend a miserable look. "I know you are right."

"I am more often than not," Samuel replied.

"I did not say that."

"It was the sentiment," Samuel said. "I heard it, even if you did not say it."

Thomas begrudgingly smiled. He did not have an especially high opinion of the men in the ton either, but he had always liked Samuel. The man had a sharp wit and exuded a disarming sort of exuberance, making it difficult to dislike him—even when he was being superficial or unproductive. It was as if Samuel knew that he was a man of the ton, and he found it comedic to be precisely the man everyone thought he should be.

"What is Lady Norwood like, then? If you know her so well."

"I did not say I knew her well," Samuel replied. "But she has attended a few balls and soirees, fewer since the death of Lord Norwood seven years ago. She is an elegant woman. Stately. Many of the ton think she ought to consider marrying another lord, but she has never precisely expressed a desire to wed again. I have heard speculation that she still mourns Lord Norwood, but I do not know if I believe it."

"Why not?"

Samuel shrugged. "I can think of many reasons why a lady would not wish to wed, particularly after becoming a wealthy widow."

Thomas frowned. "It occurs to me that she may become wealthier still if her daughter does not wish to marry me."

That was a sobering thought. Thomas took a sip of his brandy, thinking. There was no good reason for why a young lady should not want to marry him. Lady Victoria ought to be pleased with her match. It was precisely what the ton would expect of her. It was an uncomfortable realization, though, that she could so easily prevent him from receiving half of his rightful fortune. And suppose that she received a better offer? A young lady with an inheritance like hers would doubtlessly be desirable to many men of the ton.

"And her daughter?"

"She has not been introduced to the ton yet," Samuel said. "I have not heard anything scandalous about her, so I assume she is a respectable young lady."

Thomas could not decide if that was complimentary or not. On the one hand, he had no desire to be wed to a disreputable lady, but on the other, some black mark on the young lady's reputation would at least indicate that she was interesting. He might prefer a disreputable lady over one who bored him.

"I hate this," Thomas said. "I cannot believe that my father even agreed to this arrangement, much less that he did not tell me of it until now."

"Drink more," Samuel suggested. "Then, you will not be so upset."

Thomas grimaced, but he did pour himself another glass. He knew his limits well, and three glasses would soften his senses just enough to prevent him from worrying overly about his suggested nuptials.

"You are assuming that she will be awful," Samuel replied. "You do not know that, though. Perhaps she will be better than you think."

"Perhaps."

He doubted it, though. While it was true that Thomas had not attended many social functions since growing into manhood, he had spent some time in the ton's company at the behest of his father. Thomas knew what those women were like. The difference between them was that between a rose and a daffodil. They were not the same flower but they were still flowers. Pretty, fragile, and lacking in all depth or substance.

"It is not so terrible, anyway. You make it sound as though you are being sent to the gallows," Samuel continued. "You know that you can always take a mistress, right?"

Thomas glared at his friend. "As if that is a solution."

"You do not care for the ton," Samuel pointed out. "Why do you care if your reputation is marred with an affair? Besides, many gentlemen have such affairs. You simply find a lovely actress in need of a strong protector ..."

"Is that why you want me to go to the theatre? You hope that I will find a mistress?" Thomas asked, less upset about the suggestion than he normally would be. It seemed that the alcohol was beginning to impact him. "That is a terrible plan."

"No," Samuel replied. "I am going to find a mistress. There is an actress in this particular production who I am very fond of, and I hope to make her acquaintance tonight."

Thomas laughed. "So you did not really invite me to the theatre in the hopes of having a pleasant evening with me. You merely wanted me to accompany you so you could charm this actress, hm? Would you like me to share your many virtues with her? Shall I insist that you have never looked at another woman with as much passion and fondness as she?"

"Something like that."

Thomas shook his head and finished the rest of his drink. "Fine. But we will arrive before the play begins. I will not indulge your habit of arriving halfway through a performance."

Samuel grinned victoriously. "Done!"

Thomas shook his head. Despite the pleasant warmth and haze brought on by the brandy, he still spared a small thought for all the work that he was leaving behind. Sure, he could always tend to it the following morning, but Thomas was not a man who liked to wait.