Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman
Prologue
London, July 1814
Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, was having a fine evening. True, that all his evenings were fine, as they usually included drinks with friends and then a jaunt to Hollister’s gaming hell where he usually lost a small fortune in the span of a few hours. Tonight, he was enjoying the drinks-with-friends portion of the evening at the Curious Goat Inn. A decent little place outside of Mayfair where he and Kendall, Bell, and Clayton could drink and talk freely without being scrutinized by the other members of the ton. The Curious Goat was much preferred to any of those stodgy gentlemen’s clubs on St. James’s Street.
Just before they’d entered the establishment, his friends had all exclaimed how glad they were to have him back to his old self. Until somewhat recently, he’d been someone different entirely. The headaches were a regular reminder. But that was something he didn’t relish thinking about, something he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.
Rhys was ordering his third ale of the evening from a comely barmaid when Kendall, of all unexpected people, blurted, “I think it’s time I find a wife.”
The heads of all three of them, himself, Bell, and Clayton, immediately snapped to face Kendall. They stared at the chap as if he’d lost his bloody mind.
Never at a loss for words, Rhys found his voice first. He winced, sucked in his breath, shook his head vigorously, and said, “A wife? Good God, man! There’s no need to rush into anything so…permanent.”
Kendall was a good man. After they’d all left Oxford together, Kendall had gone on to become a Commodore in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. But he hadn’t been gifted a commission by his father, the former earl. No. Kendall had worked his arse off. There was no one more diligent or more loyal. But the poor sop actually wanted a wife. Kendall should know better after his last attempt at marriage with the disloyal Lady Emily Foswell. Had he forgotten about her defection?
“We’re not getting any younger,” Kendall shot back to Rhys.
“On the contrary,” Rhys replied, “at nine and twenty, we’re pups. My father was over fifty when I was born.”
His father had famously remained a bachelor for decades before settling down with his (much younger) mother, and dutifully producing Rhys. Of course, having begotten his heir, his father decided to continue his bachelor lifestyle, leaving Rhys’s resigned mother to her own amusements, of which she’d found plenty. As a result, Rhys had mainly been raised by servants, governesses, and tutors.
His father would return to the ducal estate upon occasion to see how Rhys was growing, to ensure his son understood the enormity of his title, and to give him advice about women that Rhys seriously doubted was sound.
It certainly hadn’t helped the one time that Rhys had come close to offering for a lady. A fate he’d narrowly escaped, having discovered the lady in question was interested in him only for his title. That was something else he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.
Bell, or more correctly, Beaumont Bellham, the Marquess of Bellingham, was the next to speak to Kendall. Bell might have been a bachelor, but the man was essentially married to his position as a spy in the Home Office. The fool had even tried to renounce his title for a spot as a soldier in the wars against France. Thank God, he’d been turned down in his request.
Instead, he’d been offered a position with the Home Office, where he was kept safe enough most of the time. Though Bell had been on some dangerous missions before and Rhys knew it.
Bell was clever, direct, and driven. If the man had any fault, it was that he worked too much, for Christ’s sake. The marquess needed to relax more than anyone Rhys had ever known, and Rhys told him that often enough. Instead of taking such sound advice, however, Bell attempted to tell Rhys that he might try an honest day’s work instead of spending his time gaming and chasing women. Who needed that sort of advice?
Bell narrowed his eyes on Kendall and said, “Are you certain you’re ready? It’s only been two years since….” Bell let his voice trail off, but they all knew he was talking about Lady Emily. The look on Kendall’s face told him to leave it alone.
Finally, Clayton exclaimed, “Thank heavens. I cannot wait until I’m no longer the only one of us