Love Is a Rogue (Wallflowers vs. Rogues #1) - Lenora Bell Page 0,13
him at his sister’s home.
Ford only had a fortnight in London before his new ship, the HMS Boadicea, arrived in port. Tiny had traveled with Ford to London to pick out a promise ring for his intended, a Miss Eliza Broome.
“He’s only five and twenty,” said Tiny, through a mouthful of sausage.
“He’s not getting any younger,” Mrs. Meade replied. “And what would happen if he were killed in battle?”
“I should think that’d be a reason not to marry,” said Ford.
“Don’t you want to leave a son behind to carry on your line?” asked Mrs. Meade.
Her three daughters, ranging in age from thirteen to nineteen, leaned forward, eager to hear his response. He couldn’t keep their names straight. The youngest one was Dinah, and he thought the eldest was Martha. The middle one he couldn’t recall.
“I’m not the marrying kind, Mrs. Meade. I treasure my freedom too much.”
And he never stayed in one place long enough to be tied down.
“All bachelors say that until they find the right girl,” said Mrs. Meade. “Love will find you yet, Mr. Wright, mark my words.”
If Tiny’s sister had her way, love would find him right here in this breakfast room. She’d been pushing her daughters in his path ever since his arrival yesterday.
Ford wasn’t looking for a bride. Finding female companionship was easy enough. He preferred experienced women with healthy appetites for carnal adventuring and no expectations of anything beyond a mutually pleasurable and finite liaison.
He never put down roots anywhere; he stayed adrift.
“Love found you, John, didn’t it?” asked Mrs. Meade.
Tiny, whose real name was John, ducked his shaggy head. “Eliza’s a sweet lamb of a girl.”
Ford had met Eliza and he wouldn’t describe her as sweet or docile, but perhaps Tiny wanted someone to rule his roost. The big lug was clearly besotted.
More fool, him.
“Still no word of Thorndon?” Tiny asked, mercifully changing the subject.
“I visited his solicitor yesterday, and the man practically begged me to send word if I heard anything about the duke’s whereabouts. He’s gone completely missing. Last time anyone saw him was in Naples at the Hotel Royale where he was staying with his new bride. They left there and haven’t been heard from since. Never showed up to board the ship back to London.”
“Strange, that. A duke and his bride going missing,” said Tiny.
“Maybe they’ve been kidnapped,” said Dinah.
“I hope not,” Ford said. “I need to speak to him before I ship out. I’m going to visit his townhouse today to see if the family has any more recent news.”
“You’re going to the Duke of Thorndon’s townhouse in Mayfair?” asked the middle niece, her eyes widening. “You must tell us every detail.”
“Lady Beatrice Bentley is rumored to have the most beautiful gowns in all of London,” Dinah said with a sigh.
“And she’s bound to marry a dashing duke or a handsome earl this Season,” said Martha.
Ford set down his fork. “How in the world do you know all of this?”
“We read the society pages,” replied Dinah. “If you see Lady Beatrice you must tell us what she’s wearing. We want to know the color of her gown, the pattern of the cloth, how her hair is dressed, we want to know everything.”
“Men don’t notice details like that,” said Tiny.
Ford was fervently hoping not to see Lady Beatrice. He’d been seeing far too much of her in his memories. The copper of her hair, the glow in her eyes as she taught him new words.
“I’m due at the jeweler’s at nine,” said Tiny.
Ford rose with the rest of the group. “Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Meade.”
“Don’t forget the details,” said Dinah.
Ford and Tiny left the house and headed toward Covent Garden.
“If you stay at my sister’s house much longer, she’ll have you married to one of my nieces,” Tiny remarked.
“Your nieces are safe from me.”
“Martha’s taken a shine to you. She’ll be heartbroken when you leave.”
“What about you? You’re actually going to go through with it and tie the noose around your neck?”
Tiny ducked his head. He was so large that passersby stared at him. “Reckon Eliza’s the girl for me.”
“She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Love makes fools of us all.”
His parents had married for love and paid a high price. His mother had been disinherited by her wealthy father for choosing a mere carpenter when her father had wanted her to marry into the aristocracy and increase their social standing.
London never felt welcoming to Ford. This was his estranged grandfather’s city—a cold and pitiless