Lawrence Strauss, the fifth Duke of Amhurst, made his polite withdrawal from the young lady attempting to engage him. The drawing room was large, even by the standards of his own sprawling estate homes, and the Earl of Carteret was not shy about being ostentatious in both the size and quality of his surroundings. There was nary a furnishing that lacked gold leaf or intricate carving. And even the pieces that did – such as the inlaid marble chessboard that a pair of lordlings were dawdling over in an attempt to appear sophisticated – were crafted to the highest standard. Even the great black-marble fireplace, large enough for three men to stand in abreast if they were short enough, boasted a fire from exotic, scented woods. In the summer heat, it was entirely unnecessary, though it certainly served its purpose to demonstrate that the earl could quite literally afford to burn wealth.

Lawrence found the scent cloying and the display wasteful, though. He was not a man to attempt to live as commoners did, but he was also not one for extravagant displays of wealth simply for the sake of the display. It screamed insecurity in one’s status to attempt to reinforce it in such a way.

But then, he was likely not the intended audience. The earl had only recently inherited, and was still without a wife. The young man made no secret that he was available, at least in principle, and had encouraged any number of families with particularly beautiful daughters to present them to him for the summer season. Lawrence doubted the man was ready to settle down, though, judging from his boasts at their mutual gentleman’s club in London. The man was downright shameful in how he bedded women and then bragged in the lowest manner about it without even the sense to hold back the woman’s name to protect her reputation!

No, Lawrence was only here because it would not do for the earl to have invited a bevy of young ladies and no men. He was simply on the list because he was not seen as a rival for whichever girl or girls caught the earl’s eye tonight.

The duke had to admit that there were quite a few lovely women here, including the creature he had just left by the open window looking consternated that he had slipped away. Every one of them were well-bred and educated in literature and the classics, ensuring they would make a wonderful wife and perhaps in time a wonderful mother. They were the cream of society.

But despite being unwed himself, Lawrence was by not widely considered unavailable. Twenty-eight and never having been known to have courted a woman, there were increasingly whispers about his tastes being in a different direction. That was, of course, untrue. But Lawrence could just not fathom that he could be the husband any of these women would deserve. And having seen his own parents’ loveless, often adversarial marriage, he refused to marry until he was sure that he was ready. He would never have been able to live with the disappointment he saw daily in his mother’s eyes when he was a youth, not if it had been directed at him for husbandly failure. He would not be his father.

“You have to talk to someone eventually, you know,” came the amused voice of his friend Charles. The man was slightly older than Lawrence, but still not the Earl of Southshire, as was his eventual birthright. Given the power and wealth wasted upon the young – such as their host, the Earl of Carteret – that irked him to no end. He was at least a baron in his own right, having that far lesser title of peerage come down to him through his mother’s sister, whom had never managed to produce a child. His mother had happily abdicated the title to him when he’d reached majority, as she was still the Countess Southshire with or without it.

Despite the age and rank difference, and the not-insignificant fact that Charles was married with a pair of small sons of his own and a third child on the way, he and Lawrence were fast friends, having grown up on neighboring estates. Charles and his wife, who rarely went out at this late stage of her pregnancy, were half the reason Lawrence had accepted the clearly insincere invitation to the night’s events.

“It would be selfish of me to monopolize the girl’s time and lead her on when I have no intention of pursuing her,” murmured Lawrence, raising the crystal goblet in his hand to his lips. The wine was perhaps the only thing in the room that seemed of poor quality. The earl’s estates produced vast amounts of mediocre wine. English wine never was very good.

Charles stroked his beard – neatly trimmed with his upper lip bare, the latest in London fashion – with one hand, pretending to muse philosophical. “Ah, but tis better to have loved imperfectly than to have never loved at all!” He flourished his arm mockingly before laughing through a deep drought from his own goblet. Charles never cared much for the quality of drink, so long as he felt its effects. The slight pink already showing around his cheekbones suggested this was not his first cup. Hopefully dinner would begin before the man had too much.

Shaking his head, Lawrence didn’t reply. Truth was that he was lonely. But it was impossible to shake the deep-seated fears that he would turn out to be a philandering, spendthrift drunk like his father once he’d settled into a marriage. No, it was best to maintain the discipline he’d built into his life. He couldn’t disappoint anyone if no one cared for him.

Adopting a more serious tone, Charles gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ve seen the way you look at these fine young ladies, so I know you’re not sly, Lawrence.” He gestured with his goblet hand around the overlarge drawing room. Men and women were scattered around it in knots of three and four and five, some joking, some deep in serious-looking discussion, some sharing activities such as the two men who had finally settled in to play at the chess board. Brushing absently with his free hand at his double-breasted frock coat, Charles continued. “Maggie and I are worried about you, Lawrence. You are a better man than I, but look how happy I make Maggie!” He grinned somewhat foolishly. “Maggie says it would be a waste for you to remain a bachelor forever. Even if she has given up trying to match you with someone herself, she thinks you should give it a go with someone.” He took another swig of what looked to be a nearly empty goblet now. “Besides, she says you will be a bad influence on the boys as they grow older if you mope on about how perfect a man must be before becoming married.”

Lawrence frowned at his friend. Charles had known his parents, and was always there cheer him up after fleeing a shouting match between them. But that was not the same as understanding. He did have to admit that Charles and his wife appeared to be deeply in love, and as such a close family friend, Lawrence was sure he would have seen if that were a charade by now. But Charles was also a warm-hearted fellow who never seemed to work at bringing a smile or lending a helping hand. Where Lawrence was widely known for his philanthropy, Charles was talked about as a truly generous man who everyone took an instant liking to. There was no way that Lawrence could replicate that.

Stroking his unusual beard again, his friend appeared on the verge of saying more, but the sound of a small gong announced the dinner hour, and everyone began to meander toward the dining room to find their assigned seats.