Chapter Two
Edward Thorne, Duke of Redhaven, was not in the least bit curious when his butler announced he had a visitor. There was only one man in all of London he had bothered keeping in contact with. He supposed that, technically, Frederick Grey was his friend.
The Duke of Redhaven was not the sort of man who had friends. It was a testament to Frederick's persistence that their acquaintance had continued at all in the ten years which Edward had spent away from London. Fortunately – or, Edward might say, regrettably – persistent was only one of the words which could be used to describe the Earl of Lathkill. Handsome was another, or so Edward had been led to believe. Witty might certainly make the list. Charming – Frederick was nothing if not charming., Finally, and most regrettably of all: cheerful. Frederick was exceptionally cheerful. His constitution was as sunny as a summer's day.
How such an abomination of a man had ever attached himself to Edward to such a degree that they had actually become friends was a mystery Edward would never be able to solve.
"I say, Thorne, old boy," said Frederick, entering Edward's study and bringing his usual sunburst of energy with him, "it's awfully fine to see you again. I was beginning to think you were some sort of vampire – that you might turn to dust if you ever left that draughty old castle you call home. Now, I see that the rumours are true! You are flesh and blood, after all. I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you."
"Good to see you, too," Edward muttered, hoping that would suffice as a social pleasantry.
"It might be traditional to offer me a drink, Thorne," said Frederick cheerfully. He and Edward had known each other since their schooldays at Eton twenty-odd years ago, and he steadfastly refused to use Edward's title, even now that he was Duke. "Got any brandy?"
"I believe there's some in the drinks cabinet," said Edward. His butler insisted on keeping his cellar stocked with the finest brandy and the most expensive vintages of wine, even though Edward himself rarely drank. "Don't stand on ceremony. Help yourself."
Frederick poured out two generous servings of Edward's finest brandy and pushed one glass across the table towards him. "A toast! We must have a toast."
"I can think of nothing worth raising a glass to."
"Really? I can think of any number of things to celebrate. Your return to London, for one."
"That is certainly not a cause for celebration. I have not come of my own accord."
"No matter," smiled Frederick. "I am perfectly capable of celebrating it by myself." He knocked his glass against Edward's with a loud clink and took a hefty swallow. "Now then, old chap, I'm simply dying to hear all your news."
"News?"
"Yes, Thorne! I assume that something noteworthy has occurred. Nothing short of a miracle – or a disaster – could possibly winkle you out of Redhaven Castle. What has happened to bring you all the way back to the bosom of society?"
"I'll be avoiding society's bosom as much as possible," said Edward wryly. Frederick laughed as though he had told a very clever joke. "The fact is, Lathkill, I've recently received some disturbing news about my cousin – Mr Reginald Thorne."
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "He's your heir, isn't he? I didn't think the two of you were terribly close."
"We are not, and a good thing, too. He has recently been mixed up in some legal trouble – a servant was beaten half to death. Well, Reginald managed to make the whole business go away, but it did spur me on to have a closer look at him." Edward took a sip of the brandy. It ran down his throat like fire, pouring heat on the simmering coals of anger that burned inside him whenever he thought of his cousin. "To make it brief, it turns out that my cousin is not what anyone would term a gentleman. His behaviour is utterly appalling. It is only through luck and, I can only assume, hefty bribery, that the law has not punished him for his actions."
"Gracious," said Frederick. "That's a disappointing thing for a man to learn – especially a man who takes such great care of his estate and tenants as you do."
"I have never done more than my duty. But, I must admit, I take duty more seriously than most. No, it has become clear to me that I cannot allow the situation to continue any longer."
"The situation?"
"The unfortunate twist of fate which risks putting the Dukedom of Redhaven into the hands of my black-hearted cousin. I must do something about it, Lathkill."
Frederick lowered the glass of brandy from his lips. "You're not talking about – killing him, are you?"
Edward's hand went unconsciously to toy with the silver watch in his fob pocket. It was a habit of his whenever something had made him particularly unhappy. "Really, Lathkill. It's precisely that sort of rumour-mongering that has kept me out of London all these years."
"I'm sorry, old chap. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." Frederick held up his hands in apology. "What do you propose to do about Mr Thorne's behaviour, then?"
"The only thing I can do. I must block him at all costs from inheriting my lands and running my tenants into misery and penury. I must get myself a new heir."
Frederick spluttered a mouthful of brandy across the exquisite leather top of Edward's desk. "Pardon me," he said, dabbing at the mess with a handkerchief. "It's only that, as far as I'm aware, the only way to get a new heir is... is, well..."
"Precisely," said Edward, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "I intend to find myself a bride. Within the week, if possible. A week is about the longest time I can stand in this foul city."
"A week?" Frederick covered his mouth to hide a laugh. "My word, Thorne, you really never do things by halves, do you? And where, may I ask, do you intend to find this bride? Unless you have an array of eligible young women stacked upon your bookshelves, hiding yourself away in this study is hardly the place to start."
"That is exactly the reason why I wrote to you to let you know I was in town," said Edward. "You are an Earl, after all, and tolerably well-connected, I imagine. Any assistance you can render me will be most gratefully received."
"That's the only reason you wanted my company?" asked Frederick, a little hurt. "Really, Thorne, that's a little cold of you."
Edward shrugged. He was the man that he was. Frederick knew that. There was very little chance of Edward blossoming into a socialite at the age of five-and-thirty. If Frederick objected to the terms of their friendship, he knew where to find the door.
"Let me think," said Frederick, drumming his fingers against his chin. He had recently begun to grow a beard, which Edward did not think entirely suited him. "I suppose we had better get you out and about in society as quickly as possible. I know well enough that you will not be able to tolerate the endless parties, theatre trips, and morning calls for long. It's the very atmosphere I thrive in, and the one which you find most intolerable. Ah! Here's an idea! If I recall correctly, your father used to be very good friends with Mr Adam Stirling. Do you remember him?"
"I believe so. My father had a vast number of acquaintances. Great men always have lesser ones tugging at their ankles."
"Mr Stirling is now a man of substance, you may be surprised to hear. A trade fortune, naturally, but an astonishingly large one all the same. Anyway, he happens to be throwing a ball this very evening. I believe it is in honour of his younger daughter's Come Out."
"Is it now the custom to attend a private ball without an invitation?" asked Edward dryly.
"It certainly is not, but, if my supposition is correct, that will not be a problem. Mr Stirling has invited half of London to the ball. It is one of the largest of the Season. I would not be surprised if, as a very old acquaintance of his, and if he has heard that you are in town, you have not received an invitation yourself." Frederick narrowed his eyes at Edward. "Am I correct in guessing that you have not bothered to read any of the correspondence which has arrived since you came to London?"
"Why on earth should I waste my time on correspondence? None of the people who come calling are anything to me. Besides, I know all too well what society thinks of me. I had a good reason for hiding away in the countryside, Lathkill, as you well know. London is full of gossip and rumour. I cannot stand it."
"Let us hope that the rumours are not enough to put Mr Stirling off the dream of snaring a Duke for one of his daughters," said Frederick brightly. Before Edward could stop him, he had rung for the butler. "Ah, Simmons. Would you do me the favour of fetching His Grace's recent correspondence?"
Edward sat and glowered while they waited for Simmons to return. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the evening at a ball. How very irritatingly like Frederick, to prescribe him the exact medicine he least wanted! Surely, there were more sensible ways of going about finding a bride. His original plan, such as it was, was simply to visit a few gentlemen's clubs and make enquiries among the wealthy fathers of London. As far as Edward was concerned, there was no need to waste his time dancing and courting and actually speaking to the girl at all. Her father's permission was all that was required – whoever she might turn out to be.
"Ah!" said Frederick, riffling through the post and drawing out a gilt-edged invitation. "I was right! Come now, Thorne, it would be quite rude to refuse Mr Stirling's generous invitation."
"With a reputation such as mine, I cannot imagine he is longing for me to make an appearance. The invitation was issued out of politeness, nothing more. I will not sully his party by making an appearance."
"Don't be ridiculous, Thorne! You must and will attend Miss Angelica Stirling's Coming Out ball. It will be good for you. I am sure you have not forgotten how to dance. And when you are dancing there is very little need to talk to anyone, if you do not desire it. You may pass the entire evening in near silence, if you so wish. I will do all the talking for you. And, who knows? You may meet the woman of your dreams this very evening."
"The woman of my dreams is any girl who knows how to keep house and hold her tongue," said Edward.
"And, I daresay, she must also be tolerably attractive?" asked Frederick, with a broad wink. "A good head on her shoulders, and big-hearted enough to love a miserable old fool like yourself. It's a tall order. We must begin our search without further delay."
"Love has nothing to do with it," said Edward, unable to stop himself rolling his eyes. Frederick could really be the most ridiculous man.
"We shall see," laughed Frederick, irrepressible as ever. "We shall see!"