The Footman and I - Valerie Bowman

Prologue

London, July 1814

Lucas Drake, the fifth Earl of Kendall, was foxed. But only foxed, not an entire three sheets to the wind. And he should know. He spent more than a decade in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Lucas knew precisely how dangerous a situation it was to have three sheets to the wind. The sheet controls the sail, after all, and if the line is not secured, the sheet flops in the wind. If all three sails were loose, the ship would be out of control. Lucas was not out of control. Four mugs of watered-down ale at the Curious Goat Inn would not do that to a former sailor. He was foxed enough, however, to say, “I think it’s time I find a wife,” aloud, in the presence of all three of his closest friends.

As expected, he silenced his three companions. Worth, Bell, and Clayton immediately snapped to face him with varying expressions of alarm.

Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, was the first to find his voice. Worth was an excellent man at heart, but his horse’s arse of a father—God rest the former duke’s soul—had all but ruined him. Rhys took himself and his title too seriously. Competitive to a fault, especially when it came to gaming or women—both of which he usually won—the duke enjoyed the finer things in life and projected a devil-may-care attitude that only his close friends understood was a façade.

Worth’s reply to Lucas’s statement was to wince, suck in his breath, shake his head vigorously, and say, “A wife? Good God, man! There’s no need to rush into anything so…permanent.”

“We’re not getting any younger,” Lucas pointed out.

“On the contrary,” Worth replied, “at nine and twenty, we’re pups. My father was over fifty when I was born.”

The second head to turn and stare at Lucas was that of Beaumont Bellham, the Marquess of Bellingham. There was no finer patriot than Bell. The man had tried to renounce his title for a spot as a soldier in the wars against France. He’d been turned down in his request, however. Apparently, the Crown did not fancy its marquesses gallivanting across Europe being shot at. Instead, he’d settled for a position with the Home Office and did what he could by way of reconnaissance to help with the war effort on solid English soil. Bell was shrewd, detailed, and focused and was often accused by Worth of working too much. A charge Bell fully admitted to. He liked to tell Worth that he might try an honest day’s work instead of spending his time gaming and chasing women. Worth had yet to take such friendly advice.

Bell narrowed his eyes and said, “Are you certain you’re ready? It’s only been two years since….” Thank God the man ended his sentence there. Lucas wasn’t in any mood to discuss Emily. He never would be.

The third head to swivel toward Lucas was that of Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton. Clayton had recently got himself leg-shackled, and was just back from his honeymoon. Clayton had a mind for science and there were few things he liked better than experimenting and creating things. He was the kind of man you’d entrust your deepest secrets to. Rich as Croesus and loyal to a fault, Clayton loved his wife Theodora deeply and completely. He’d been the last one they’d all have thought would be the first to marry.

Clayton exclaimed, “Thank heavens. I cannot wait until I’m no longer the only one of us with the parson’s noose around his neck.”

Lucas took another long draught from his mug and wiped the back of his hand across his lips. His role in their quartet was that of the peacekeeper and confidant. The four of them had met at Eton as lads and stuck together through all manner of hurdles.

Lucas’s main concern was, and had always been, duty. He’d spent his life trying to fulfill his duty to his father, his family, and the Crown. In that order. His years in the Navy had taught him responsibility, respect, and the importance of hard work. The death of his older brother Charles fourteen months ago had taught him the importance of living life to the fullest and fulfilling his promise. Before his death, Charles had been championing a bill before Parliament. On his deathbed, as consumption slowly pulled his life away, Charles had asked Lucas to ensure the bill was passed. “For the good of our estate,” Charles had said. “For the good of the country.” Lucas had promised his

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