Page 1 of Courting Miss Lancaster
Chapter One
VW
London, August 1806
“First thing in the morning,I am throwing her in the Thames.”
Harry Windover grinned, though he was certain the dire pronouncement from the Duke of Kielder was meant to inspire anxious concern. While the rest of England trembled at the slightest hint of a threat from the infamous duke, Harry’s friendship with the notorious nobleman was of long-enough standing to allow him greater insight into the gentleman’s character. Adam Boyce, Duke of Kielder, was more than capable of and, if truth be told, entirely willing to follow through with the most drastic of threats. But, though he growled regularly, he acted rationally.
“And what has this doomed female done to deserve such an unenviable fate?” Harry asked, smiling still.
“She requires a Season,” Adam declared, his tone clearly communicating his utter disapproval as well as his complete disbelief.
“Most young ladies do,” Harry answered. “How else are the poor dears’ parents to see them married to the highest bidder, er, most suitable gentleman?”
He almost laughed at the black look Adam gave him. Adam had redefined “highest bidder” in his courtship. If one were being picky,courtshipwould not be the word to describe Adam’s successful acquiring of a bride. He’d written a letter, offered the equivalent of several small fortunes, and had been married—all within a few short weeks. Those gentlemen, like Harry, who did not possess one small fortune, let alone several entirely disposable ones, found themselves perpetually unsought-after, ineligible, and very, very single.
“Dare I ask why this particular young lady’s very commonplace requirement has warranted the ending of her no-doubt short life?”
“If she is dead, she will not need a Season.”
“True, but she would need a wake and a funeral. Those, too, can be tedious.”
“But far shorter in duration.”
A young gentleman, probably having no more than twenty years in his dish, passed near the chairs in the back of White’s, where Harry and Adam were spending the afternoon. With one look, Adam sent the young cub scurrying in the opposite direction, a look of pale-faced fear crossing his features.
Harry chuckled. “Must you torture the infantry?”
Adam ignored him. Which made Harry laugh more. It was their pattern, had been since their days at Harrow. Adam put on his “Fearsome Duke” façade. Harry laughed at the absurdity of it—he knowing that Adam was a good-hearted person beneath it—and that made Adam grumpy. Adam, Harry knew very well, realized he was a different person beneath his ironclad mask, and it unsettled him to think that his armor could be pierced. Adam hadn’t yet tossed Harry over, nor run him through, though he had many times threatened to do so.
Harry returned to the subject at hand. “Countless young ladies have their Seasons each year, Adam. Why should this particular case upset you so entirely?”
“In this particular case, I have the dubious distinction of being the debutante’s guardian.”
For a fraction of a second, Harry’s breath caught. He was certain he knew the identity of the soon-to-be victimof Adam’s distemper. Athena Lancaster.“You did apply for legal guardianship of your wife’s sisters and brother,” Harry reminded him. “When one acquires sisters-in-law, and when one has provided them with the kingdom’s most enviable dowries, such things as Seasons must be assumed.”
“I assumed guardianship because their father is losing hold of his faculties,” Adam corrected. “But if I am forced through the tedium of a come-out, I shall lose hold of mine.”
“And then where shall we be?” Harry laughed.
“My sanity is a source of amusement to you?” Adam raised that universally feared eyebrow.
“Everything about you is a source of amusement to me.” Harry smiled.
“I should call you out for that,” Adam threatened.
“As much fun as that would be, it does not solveyourproblem.”
Adam harrumphed and contented himself for a while with glaring at the other members of the club daring, or foolish, enough to sit within visual range. Harry’s mind spun as Adam brooded in silence.
Athena Lancaster.
He could picture her with perfect clarity: golden curls, sparkling green eyes, creamy complexion. Athena was taller than her sister, the Duchess of Kielder, coming to Harry’s chin, something he knew by virtue of having stood beside her as they’d signed as witnesses to Adam and Persephone’s wedding. He’d discovered in that same moment that she smelled like violets. His sister, Jane, wore the same scent but not at all in the same way. Harry had become a favorite of the little flower girl on the corner of Piccadilly. She always carried violets. And he always bought a posy. In other words, Harry knew himself to be well and truly besotted.
It was, in all reality, a tragedy.
Athena, thanks to the desperation of her then-future brother-in-law, was exceptionally well-dowered, having £20,000. She was also the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance, an assessment he was certain would be shared by every gentleman who met her. In addition, she had the world’s most overprotective guardian. Adam griped and grumbled over the inconvenience of his newly acquired wards, but Harry knew Adam secretly cared a great deal for them, due in large part to how deeply he loved their sister, his wife. And while the fearsome duke might allow Harry’s friendship, there was little hope that he would look favorably on a suit for the hand of his sister-in-law from a gentleman who could boast only a marginally productive estate in the wilds of Northumberland and less than £700 per anum. Athena could do far better. Adam would make certain she did.
