Page 1 of In Service to the Duke

CHAPTER 1

ROBERT

Raucous merriment and ribald laughter fill the space, drawing a haggard groan from my lips. It’s bad enough I have Mother and the rest of the household to deal with. Now, I have to be a party to my adoptive brother’s farce of a wedding breakfast. All around, men and women mill about, gracing the happy couple with well-wishes and toasts for good fortune in the future.

But it’s not correct. It’s not proper. If any one of these stuff-shirted buffoons knew the secret, knew my proper brother's wife was a lowly courtesan… It matters not to me that her personage is of a far higher caliber. The fact of the matter remains—her scandal could have quite literally torn this family apart.

Heaving another sigh, I watch as the women gather around a large cake, their faces beaming. In the middle, surrounded by our loved ones, the new duchess of Birchleigh takes on an air of demure embarrassment, as if all the attention is almost too much for her. But it certainly wasn’t too much when my brother fucked her in front of the men in The Rose and Thorne.

Anger bubbles up, threatening to choke me. I can’t fault the chit, unfortunately. In fact, gathering the attention of a Duke is the highest any whore can climb. Well, unless they set their sights on the crown prince… but even she wouldn’t be so bold.

Shaking my head, I grab my glass and drain the rest of the brandy. The burn as it slides down my throat fortifies me, shoring up my civility as I plaster on a fake smile and join the others. In truth, William and I have come to an understanding, especially once the plot surrounding her was uncovered.

It still doesn’t help that I wanted so much more for him. The daughter of an Earl is a grand prize indeed, a fitting match for any duke. It’s not her title which I take umbrage with, but her family. She should have never fallen into such a scandalous situation. He loves her, though. I suppose that’s all that matters.

However, I cannot help that niggle of unease as it slithers down my spine like those damnable cobras from India I’ve heard tales of. There’s just too much I still don’t know—don’t want to know, in point of fact. But will Catherine prove to be the demure miss she aimed to be before her fall? Or is she a viper lying in wait?

Truthfully, it’s not only this new bride who has me so captivated. If I were an honest man, I’d acknowledge the fact that most of my ire is better served hounding down the young governess who absconded herself away with my family, joining them when I can’t be there. She may very well prove to be the cause for all this needless worry and concern which clenches my stomach at every turn.

Catherine seems, for now at least, to be a known quantity. This upstart whom I know nothing about is a conundrum, a potential threat lying in wait, as most of her class are prone to do. At least Catherine ended up being the daughter of an Earl.

It’s one of her saving graces. Were she still but a common maid, I’d worry about her plans to use this union as a way to make a name for herself. But she’s not. As it is, if not for the plot causing her to take to hiding for fear for her life, she would have married within her station or even a touch above it.

No scandal there. At least none that I can see. Besides, as a duke in his own right, William can take care of himself. His fortune is no longer tied to ours. Hasn’t been since acquiring a dukedom of his own from the king. But still… It does nothing to ease the concerns which plague my brain at every given moment.

Gripping my hand into a fist, I allow myself to feel the anger of knowing some potential wolf in sheep’s clothing is even now with my mother and sisters, plotting who knows what in the wake of my absence. It’s enough for my vision to blur for a moment, drowning out the sea of cheerful faces. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm down.

No doubt, the stench of my fury is an unwelcome guest at this party. And as much as I still have reservations toward the woman my brother now calls wife, I do not wish to upset either of them on this occasion. Again, I look about, noting the indulgent smiles on both my brother’s and Foxford’s faces—the two leg-shackled men of the lot.

If anyone had told me these two would be the first to fall, to take an arrow to the knee, I would laugh at them. Then again, it isn’t as if any of us were so inclined at the start of the season. It’s as if some disease has swept through, felling the strongest of us all.

I long to bring my cravat up to my face to block the sickness from invading my nose. A pox, a plague be upon those houses. I, for one, cannot imagine taking a trip down the aisle, and I challenge anyone to make such a statement.

Loud squeals pepper the room, bringing a wince to my face. The two besotted men merely smile while the others, myself included, look on with an almost unsure moue on their faces. The only one showing any emotion other than elation or utter dismay is Norhaven.

The poor sot hangs back, almost buried in the shadows as he watches the affair with a somewhat detached air about him. The only other person far more concealed than he is Redleigh. But then, the ‘monstrous’ duke keeping his face hidden makes sense.

He sees himself as a blight on the title bestowed upon him after his father and brother passed. Norhaven has no such scarring or disfigurement. Why doesn’t he join in the laughter like the rest of them? I follow his gaze as it burns with an almost unholy intensity.

One of these ladies has caught his eye, but whom? It’s clear he’s besotted, making me wonder if it will be him next caught in the parson’s trap. As the ladies gather closer to the cake, he leans forward, far more interested in this new tradition than he probably ought to be.

It seems as if this new bride is bringing more than just her brothel skills into the household. Instead of a quiet celebration with some cake, food, and drink, it is to now be a far more boisterous ceremony, complete with some odd form of playing with their food.

The whole thing is unseemly. It’s bad enough we’ve had to hide all the surrounding scandal, but to make such a large show of it? It makes no sense to me. If I were the one embroiled in such potential for gossip, I’d make the ceremony quiet and go on with my life.

Or perhaps that’s why it’s such a grand affair? To show the Ton they have nothing to hide. Grumbling under my breath, I cross my arms as the ladies take turns digging into their pieces of cake to reveal some sort of charm. That is, for those lucky enough to find a piece with one hidden within.

Though the meanings behind these bits of metal were explained to us, I’ve already forgotten. Or, I guess, the real truth is I didn’t care enough to pay attention. Even now, the ladies hop about, giggling and comparing while we gentlemen pretend to be just as excited.

My mother and sisters would have loved such an affair. The two rambunctious girls would, no doubt, gorge themselves on sweets and race about the room, tossing every care to the side. Mother, Of course, kind soul that she is, would refuse to force them to settle down, opening us up to all manner of scrutiny.

It would be up to me, once again, to play the role of stern taskmaster. While I do not blame Mother for her indulgences, I do wish someone else could assist with keeping them in hand. It’s a task I do not relish when it comes to my siblings.

Besides, they are old enough to know decorum and should conduct themselves as such. But since Mother’s health has been steadily declining, there’s been no one to school the girls, teaching them what it means to be soft-spoken and genteel. Though that task has now fallen to a stranger, a woman whose only job is to train them correctly, I still fear for their future.

Not one person consulted me about this new hire, and now that they’re out in the countryside, I must trust my mother’s judgment that she will be a good fit for our household. But even that is questionable.

With her health waning… Shaking my head, I refuse to allow my thoughts to go in that direction. Mother will be fine. She has to be.