Page 12 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“You’re going, Crest,” Viscount Coleton told Matthew, handing him a soft cloth. “You will not talk your way out of it this time. You owe me.”
Groaning, Matthew passed the back of his hand over the sweat that beaded his forehead, then turned to buff the red-painted boat, which was aptly namedRed. It certainly wasn’t warm out today, but the five-mile row up and down the Thames had not only heated him through, it had also turned his arms into jelly.
“I’ll go to the next one,” he said to Cole.
Rubbing down the front end of the boat, Oliver Jameson smirked. “You told him that last time.”
Matthew scowled at his friend.
“And,” Jameson continued, “you also told me we would win today. So now you’re two lies deep.”
From the other side of the boathouse, the Earl of Winthrop snorted as he sanded a rough spot on one ofBlue’sseats. “I think he’s gone a little soft.”
“Aye,” agreed Jameson, “in the body as well as the head.”
“It is this boat, I tell you,” Matthew muttered. “Something is wrong with it.”
“There is nothing wrong with it,” Cole said, his eyes alight with mischief. “As you know well, we built both of these at the same time with the same plan and same material.”
“They’re exactly the same,” Jameson agreed.
“And yet,Redis slower more often than not,” Matthew argued.
“Only because you’re inRedmore often than not,” Winthrop said.
Muttering under his breath, Matthew turned away and went back to his work.
Jameson patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “It’s natural, old man. We all deteriorate with age.”
Matthew cocked a brow. “You are a mere three months younger than I am.”
“Three months makes all the difference.” Jameson grinned. “Just think of it this way—I will forevermore be filled with more youthful vigor than you.”
“Excellent,” Matthew said drily. Then he held up a hand to Cole and Winthrop. “I don’t want to hear it from you,” he told them. Both men were two years younger—when Matthew and Jameson had started their rowing club at Eton, The Lions and the Lilies, Cole and Winthrop had been smaller boys who’d looked up to them like older brothers.
“I won’t say a word,” Cole promised, “if you agree to accompany me to my sister’s soiree.”
“Why wouldn’t you go?” Jameson asked Matthew. “Cole said there will be a bevy of unmarried females there. I thought you were on the hunt for one of that species.”
Matthew hesitated, but only for about half a second. If he told them about his visit to “Mrs.” Porter, they’d torment him to eternity. Usually, he was amenable to a bit of teasing from his friends—the friendships between the four of them had been lighthearted from the beginning, though they were all the first to jump to one another’s aid when one of them encountered any kind of difficulty.
But this…no.Aside from Sir Harry Acheson, who had referred him to the woman and therefore knew about Matthew employing her, he had no intention of telling anyone else.
“I believe I might give it up,” he said casually instead.
“What?” Winthrop said. “Why?”
Matthew shrugged. “Society is…” He searched for the right word.
“Obnoxious?” Jameson supplied. Jameson knew him well.
“Yes, that,” Matthew said. “And—”
“Superficial?” Cole asked.
“Absolutely. And—”
“A groveling crush, thanks to your lofty title?” Winthrop supplied.
