Chapter 3
Hugh woke the next morning with a head that pounded as if someone was pealing the bells of Westminster between his ears. He didn’t remember how he’d made it home or remember climbing the stairs to his room. In fact, he remembered very little of the night before. Especially what he’d done after he’d heard that Lady Claudine was going to marry Viscount Treverton instead of him.
Hugh groaned in agony, then slowly opened his eyes. When he could at least focus on the colors of the room, he realized the reason he didn’t remember entering his room was that . . . he hadn’t. He hadn’t gotten any farther than his study.
He rolled to his side and fell off the sofa. The hard floor came up to meet him in a most unforgiving fashion, and he moaned in pain. He tried but was unable to move.
“When you can manage to sit up,” a male voice said from somewhere in the room, “I have a pot of white willow tea waiting for you.”
Without turning his head much, Hugh shifted his gaze in the direction of the voice.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t move.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’m surprised you’re even alive to face another day.”
“I’m not alive,” Hugh said closing his eyes. “I’m just too cowardly to give in to death.”
The owner of the voice rose from the overstuffed wing chair near the fireplace. Hugh heard footsteps approach until Caleb Parker came into view.
“I’m going to help you up if you promise not to cast up your accounts all over my shoes.”
“I never get sick from excessive imbibing.”
“I’ll let you explain that to the unfortunate servant who was assigned to clean out your carriage this morning.”
The words Hugh uttered were ones he never used. Even in front of his friends. “Help me sit,” he said, gathering all the strength he could muster to help Caleb lift his six foot three inch body.
Caleb stood behind him and slid his arms beneath Hugh’s armpits, then with a loud groan, propped Hugh against the sofa from which he’d fallen.
“Here.” Caleb handed Hugh a cup of tea laced with white willow. Hugh drank the restorative tea in almost one gulp and held out his cup for Caleb to refill. After replenishing Hugh’s cup a third time, Caleb sat in the chair opposite where Hugh sat on the floor.
“Do you remember what happened last night?” Caleb asked.
“No.” Hugh took another swallow of his hangover remedy. “Do I want to?”
“No.”
Hugh growled another vile curse beneath his breath. “Are the authorities going to come to arrest me?”
Hugh was relieved when Caleb laughed.
“No.”
“Then perhaps I can handle knowing.”
Caleb refilled Hugh’s cup, then sat back in his chair. “Before we get into the more questionable events of the evening, why don’t you tell me what led you to drink so much that you lost memory of last night? We’ve been in our cups more times than I can count, and I’ve never witnessed you so drunk before.”
“That’s because I’ve never been so drunk.”
“Why last night? What happened to cause that?”
Hugh finished the bitter brew, then refused when Caleb offered more and set his cup beside him on the floor. It was time Hugh confided in someone, and who better than one of his closest friends?
“You know that my father gave me the deed to one of his estates.”
“Yes, Red Oaks. I’ve been there with you. It’s magnificent.”
“Yes, it is.” Hugh pushed himself from the floor and sat on the sofa. “What I failed to mention is that now that the estate is mine, I will no longer receive any financial assistance from my father.”
“None?”
“Not one farthing. Any money I require to sustain my lifestyle in Town will have to come from the profits earned from my estate.”
A frown covered Caleb’s face. “I’m not sure why that’s such a concern. From what I remember of Red Oaks, it appears to be a profitable estate.”
“It is. Because my father and my brother have seen to it. They’ve made every decision for the running of the estate and have handed down the instructions to the steward, who follows their orders.”
“Well, that seems manageable.”
“It would be, yes, if I had the slightest idea of how to manage an estate. But I don’t. I never paid attention when Father instructed Chad on what decisions to make.”
Hugh closed his eyes. “I don’t have the vaguest idea of how to rotate crops, or how many sheep can graze on how much land, or how to sell the wool sheared from the sheep, or even how or when to shear a damn sheep.”
“Oh,” Caleb said.
“Not only that,” Hugh said, sitting up and staring at Caleb. “I hate life in the country. I don’t want to live in the country. I’ll go bloody mad if I have to live at Red Oaks.”
“So what do you intend to do?”
“What I have been attempting since my father gave me this ultimatum—to marry a suitable female with a massive dowry and live in the City. The estate can go to rot and ruin for all I care.” Hugh leaned forward and propped his forearms on his knees. “I thought I’d found the perfect female a month or so ago. She was ripe with a massive dowry, but she rejected my suit and announced her betrothal to someone else.”
Hugh lifted his head. “But I didn’t let that deter me. I continued my search and found another suitable female.”
“The Lady Claudine who is now betrothed to Lord Treverton,” Caleb mumbled.
“Yes.” Hugh raked his hand across his face. “I was certain she would accept my proposal. I’d even spoken to her father, and he was more than agreeable. He liked the idea of having a war hero as a son-in-law, and I didn’t bother to explain I was far from being a war hero. That to many, I was considered a traitor.”
“We weren’t traitors,” Caleb argued. “That was only the role we played.”
“Nevertheless, I discovered last night that Lady Claudine intended to marry Lord Treverton. I no longer have a prospect for a bride, and I am running out of time.”
Caleb frowned again. “Would you care to explain why you were searching for an ugly bride? Lady Claudine is hardly ugly. In fact, most of Society would consider her one of the beauties of the Season.”
Hugh crawled to his feet. The room swayed for a moment, but eventually he was steady enough that he could make it across the room and lean against the fireplace mantel. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” he said staring into the dying flames.
“All you could go on about was that you needed to find an ugly female. That your mistake was in searching for a beautiful bride. You needed someone plain, ordinary, and ugly.”
Faint recollections seeped into his mind. He vaguely remembered mentioning some sort of drivel about searching for an ugly bride. Had he really said something so inexcusable? So shameful? So reprehensible?
Hugh clenched his fingers around the edge of the mantel. The fog concealing his memory slowly lifted to reveal a woman’s face. A stranger to him.
“Tell me everything,” Hugh demanded.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“What I’m sure of is that I may have insulted someone I had no right to offend. Did I?”
“Yes. You did.”
Caleb slowly, in as gentle terms as Hugh was sure his friend could find, explained what Hugh had done. What he’d said. How he’d acted. If Hugh hadn’t been ill before, he was after his friend told him what he’d done the night before. He’d never felt more ashamed of himself than he did at that moment.
“Who was she?”
“Her name is Lady Annalise Lyman.”
“What do you know about her?”
“She’s the eldest of the Earl of Lyman’s six daughters.”
“Six?”
“Yes. From what I’ve discovered, she’s nearing her thirtieth year. She had three disastrous Seasons and retired to the country where she helps her father manage his estate. She’s returned to London only to chaperone her youngest sister during her come-out.”
“Do her sisters look like her?”
Caleb smiled at Hugh’s question, and Hugh turned to face his friend. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded. Truly, I didn’t. I am simply not familiar with the Earl of Lyman’s daughters.”
“They’re all a good deal younger than us, Hugh, and we did happen to miss a couple of Seasons with that little altercation in the Crimea, as you may remember. But I’ll tell you what I know,” Caleb said, filling his cup from the fresh pot of tea a footman brought in. “One of her sisters—Lady Brianna— is married to the Earl of Wesley.”
“Lady Wesley is her sister?”
“Yes. Another of her sisters—Lady Colette—is married to the Duke of Vanderman’s third son.”
“That beautiful creature is the Earl of Lyman’s daughter?”
Caleb nodded.
The more Hugh discovered about Lady Annalise, the more of an ass he felt. “I remember when Lady Colette had her come-out. She was the most sought-after debutante of the Season. Every buck with a title wanted to snag her for his wife. In the end, she chose a lowly third son, although his father does happen to be a duke.”
“And then there’s—”
“You can stop. I don’t need to hear any more.” Hugh placed both hands on the mantel and lowered his head between his outstretched arms. “I behaved like a two-headed ass.”
“What are you going to do?” Caleb asked.
“I’m going to get cleaned up, then pay a visit to the woman I insulted so horribly last night.”
“Do you need someone to accompany you? In case her father threatens to shoot you?”
Hugh tried to smile but failed in his attempt. “A bullet to my head wouldn’t hurt any more than it already does.”
Caleb laughed, then rose. “I’ll leave you to your misery then, my friend,” he said and walked to the door.
“Cal,” Hugh said before he’d opened the door. His friend turned. “Did anyone see me kiss the lady?”
That question had gnawed at his gut from the moment Caleb had told him he’d kissed her. If anyone had witnessed what he’d done, his fate was sealed. He would be getting a special license and finding the nearest clergyman, as well as offering an apology.
Hugh held his breath until Cal answered.
“No, Hugh. No one saw you. The four of us and the lady are the only ones who know what happened.”
Hugh released his breath. “There is that,” he sighed. Although he wasn’t clear from every catastrophe. Lady Annalise could still claim he’d dishonored her . . . which he had . . . and demand he marry her . . . which he was obligated to do.
Hugh had resigned himself to marrying in order to avoid living out his life in the country. After his actions last night, it was possible that not only would he be living his life in the last place he wanted to be, but he’d be married to the last woman he wanted to be with.