Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman Page 0,3

staring fixedly at Rhys, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Rhys winked at his friend. He wasn’t about to deny it. “That and they won’t give me the bank that Hollister’s will.”

Kendall scratched his chin and stared blindly at his mug. “If only the ladies of the ton didn’t know I am an earl, I’d have a much better chance of finding a match,” he grumbled.

Rhys’s laughter cracked off the wooden beams on the tavern’s ceiling. “I’d pay to see that. An earl dressed up like a common man to find true love. Has a certain poetic ring to it, don’t it?”

Clayton laughed too and shook his head, while Bell’s shrewd, narrowed-eyed stare intensified. “It’s not a completely outlandish idea.” He tilted his head to the side.

“What’s not?” Kendall asked.

“The idea of pretending you’re a commoner to find a wife,” Bell replied.

Rhys slapped Bell on the back. “Are you mad, man? You’re not even drinking.”

Of course Bell wasn’t drinking. The man never drank. Most annoying thing about him. The marquess preferred to remain in control of his faculties, and they all knew it. He’d always been the one to remain out of any fracas the other three got into, usually due to his sobriety.

Bell leaned forward and stared at Kendall. “Given the right circumstances, it could work, you know?”

“Pretending I’m common?” Kendall replied, blinking. “I don’t see how.”

“Everyone in the ton knows him,” Clayton pointed out. “How would he ever manage it?”

Hmm. Was Bell actually serious? Rhys stared intently at his friend. He was serious, wasn’t he? Why, this could be interesting. Quite interesting, indeed.

“Are you suggesting he wear a mask or alter his appearance?” Rhys asked, narrowing his eyes just like Bell. Could this actually work?

Kendall glanced back and forth between Rhys and Bell. “You cannot be serious, either of you. Clayton’s right. How would it ever work?”

“No, not a costume.” Bell addressed his remarks to Rhys. “I was thinking something more like the right…situation.”

“Such as?” Rhys replied, drawing out both words. He also leaned forward.

“You two are frightening me, you know?” Kendall replied. “You seem as if you’re actually trying to plot out a way this ludicrous idea might work.”

“Like a…house party,” Bell replied to Rhys, stroking his own chin and completely ignoring Kendall’s concern.

Rhys inclined his head, his eyes still narrowed. “A house party, yes. I see what you mean.”

“But it couldn’t be just any house party, of course,” Bell continued. “It would have to be one given by someone who was in on the experiment.”

“‘Experiment’?” Clayton perked up. “There are few things I enjoy more than an experiment, and I just so happen to be about to send the invitations to my annual country house party.”

“‘Experiment’?” Kendall repeated, blinking.

Bell snapped his fingers. “Your house party would be perfect, Clayton.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” Kendall, who sat between Bell and Rhys, pushed against their shoulders with both hands. He was clearly becoming concerned that they were serious. And they were quite serious. “A house party isn’t going to change my identity. Ladies of the ton will still know who I am at a house party.”

“He makes a good point,” Clayton replied, sloshing more ale down his throat. Leave it to Clayton to try to be reasonable. The man simply didn’t have the imagination Bell and Rhys did. Poor chap.

“Not if you invite only the debutantes from this Season,” Bell replied, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “And not if you create the right circumstances.”

Kendall sucked in a deep breath and pushed his mug out of reach. “The ladies may not know me, but some of their mothers do. More than one of them has already been to court with an older daughter making her debut.”

“That’s where the right circumstances come in,” Bell replied, crossing his arms over his chest, the half-smile still riding his lips.

Rhys scratched at the day-old stubble on his chin and smiled an even wider smile than Bell’s. “By God, I think you’re onto something.”

“I refuse to wear a mask if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s positively medieval,” Kendall declared, shaking his head.

“Not a mask,” Bell replied. He settled back in his chair and plucked at his lower lip, a gesture he often made when he was plotting something.

“Or a costume, either,” Kendall continued. He pushed his mug farther away. Probably for good measure. No doubt the poor chap was trying to sober up. Ha.

“Not a costume…precisely.” Bell exchanged a positively roguish grin with Rhys.

“By God, I’m going to have the best time