“Good morning, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Hawdon opened his eyes blearily, a little befuddled. It seemed far too early in the morning for anyone to be rousing him, and he certainly would not have brought a woman to bed. Yet, a female voice was speaking to him, rousing him from his slumber.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, good morning, Your Grace.”

"Good gracious!" Amos suddenly realized a woman was standing before him, a mischievous look on her face.

“What’s the matter, Your Grace?”

Amos rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of his bare chest. He focused on the woman's face as a sudden realization swamped him. Narrowing his eyes, he identified her as the new housekeeper. He rolled his eyes.

“Woman, I have had enough. I have warned you before; I do not dally with my staff. Take yourself away from my room—and from my house. Your employment is terminated.”

Shock flooded the lady’s face as she stuttered, tugging the sheet a little more tightly around her. “Your Grace,” she spluttered. “By your many looks and flirtations, I assumed you cared for me.”

"Those were of your own imaginings," Amos replied curtly, wishing that he'd been a little more self-aware.

His new housekeeper was, indeed, a pretty lady—if that could be said of the hired help. He enjoyed flirting with her, but she had taken it far too seriously. “I will, however, write you a reference,” he finished, taking a little of the sting from his blow. He did it only because this was partly his fault; he should never have looked twice at the woman.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she said, quietly, her voice full of unshed tears.

He did not look at her again, waiting for the door to click shut before he got to his feet. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed himself again for his idiocy. He had been far too lax with his flirtations, knowing full well that his reputation preceded him. He liked to smile and flirt with women, even with the women in his employment. He enjoyed their blushes and sparkling smiles. However, the ton would be vastly surprised if they had known that Amos had never taken a mistress, or even enjoyed a liaison with an actress, as so many of his counterparts did.

He enjoyed kisses from a woman, of course, but he had never let it go too far. His handsome face, along with the occasional rumor about his antics, kept the ladies sighing over him. Amos would be lying if he said he did not appreciate the attention.

Of course, Amos had to marry. Being a duke, it was expected of him to produce an heir and to produce one fairly soon. His mother lived in the dowager house back in the country. Whilst she was a loving mother in all respects, she was growing restless over his refusal to marry. Amos was waiting for something. He wanted love; he wanted romance and passion — not simply a ‘good match’ as his mother and father once had. They had never loved each other, his mother had once confessed. They had gotten on well, and had been dear friends, but that was all. Amos refused to choose that for himself. His self-imposed celibacy was for good cause. His wife would be the one he loved and the only one he took to bed. Until then, let the ton talk.

Sighing, Amos dressed quickly and made his way to the dining room. He would break his fast and then set about finding himself a new housekeeper. Perhaps, his friend, Bernard, Earl Heber, would know someone.

"Good morning, Heber," he said, completely unsurprised at his friend's early appearance. Having stayed up too late the previous evening, Amos insisted that Bernard spend the night in his townhouse. The man could not have ridden home and was practically falling asleep by the time they'd made it to the front door. Amos was pleased to see a hot cup of coffee waiting for him, although Bernard looked a little worse for wear.

“Sleep well?”

Bernard groaned. “Remind me never to touch a drop of port again.”

Amos laughed, filling his plate before he sat down at the table. “I am sure I will see you with a glass of port in your hand by the end of the week,” he replied, still laughing at Bernard’s miserable face. “Although I hope, by now, you have gotten over your misery.”

“I shall never get over it,” Bernard said, stoically. “Lady Heston betrothed? It has devastated my heart.”

Hiding his grin by bringing his coffee cup to his lips, Amos refrained from rolling his eyes. Bernard was in love every week, it seemed, with a different young woman every time. He flitted from lady to lady, extolling her virtues every time he and Amos were together. "I am sure you will get over her in time," he replied. "Perhaps there may be a new beauty to catch your eye at Lady Haye's ball tomorrow?"

Bernard sat up a little straighter, a sudden spark in his eyes. “Oh yes, I had quite forgotten! Mayhap I shall meet some new, eligible young lady who will take the pain from my heart.”

“Indeed,” Amos replied dryly. “In the meantime, perhaps you can help me find a new housekeeper.”

“Another one?” Bernard asked, astonished. “What happened this time?”

"The same as the last one," Amos sighed, slumping in his chair. "There are times when these rumors about me are more of a hindrance than a help."

"The problem is that you keep hiring women who have either a pretty face or bountiful curves. And you insist on practicing your flirtation on them! Simply hire a housekeeper with a plain face and keep your flirtations for the eligible ladies of the ton.”

Amos sighed. “I suppose you are right. I shall have to be more careful in my selection.”

Nodding, Bernard toasted Amos with his coffee cup.

“To finding a plain, unassuming and completely ordinary housekeeper.”

“Cheers,” Amos replied.