To Pleasure a Duke (The Husband Hunters Club 3)

“It’s not as if we’ll even see the duke,” she comforted herself. “There’ll be a groom to direct us to Erik.”

That meant she probably wouldn’t have a chance to apologize for her father’s shameful behavior, but she could always write a letter, she told herself with relief. She should have written before, to thank him for agreeing to help with the billy goat, but she’d kept putting it off. What did one say to a duke who’d been butted by a billy goat?

The coach was just rolling past the front of the hall when Terrence came strolling up and forced them to halt. Eugenie narrowed her eyes at him through the open window, noting that his necktie was askew, his shirt and jacket were crumpled, and his eyes were shadowed from fatigue—at least she hoped it was fatigue. He was a handsome boy, a year younger than Eugenie, and took after their father in looks, but lately there was an air of dissatisfaction about him.

“Off somewhere interesting?” he asked, opening the door.

“Where have you been, Terry?”

“None of your business,” he said, sneering in a way he probably considered rakish, and then spoiled it all by adding in an anxious voice, “Can you lend me a guinea, Genie? I’ll pay you back.”

“Have you been gambling down at the Five Bells?”

“There’s little enough else to do around here.”

“I thought you wanted to join the army?”

“What’s the point? Father could never afford a decent regiment and I’d hardly want to go in as a foot soldier. I might as well resign myself to being trapped in this backwater until I die.”

He sounded so forlorn that Eugenie felt sorry for him. Terry wasn’t a bad boy, but with no way of achieving his dreams he’d begun to frequent places like the Five Bells and spend his time getting into scrapes with bad company. It wouldn’t be long before he was in debt by more than a guinea.

“Do you think Aunt Beatrix will pay for my commission?” he said, a spark of hope in his eyes. “Like she paid for you to go to Miss Debenham’s?”

“I don’t know, Terry. I hope so. As long as father doesn’t put her back up again.”

Aunt Beatrix was an irascible lady who loathed Peter Belmont and didn’t think too highly of his wife, her sister, who had been left a considerable amount of money by their father. But Beatrix had married well, a manufacturer of soaps and skin potions, and now she was a very wealthy widow. She was fond of Eugenie, probably because she reminded her of her sensible self, but Terry was another matter. Eugenie feared he looked too much like his father for Aunt Beatrix’s liking.

“We’re going to see Erik,” one of the twins said now, bouncing up and down on the old, cracked leather seat. “We’re going to Somerton.”

“Are you indeed?” Terry gave them a thoughtful look. “Mind if I tag along?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, climbing up into the coach and squeezing in beside Jack and Eugenie. She wondered why he should want to come on what he’d normally consider a childish outing, but she was so pleased to see him smiling for a change that she didn’t make a fuss.

“We’re going to see the duke, we’re going to see the duke!” the twins yelled as they set off.

“I wonder if I will be allowed in the stables again,” Jack said quietly, with a little shiver of excitement. “Last time I helped saddle one of the duke’s best stallions. Would you believe it, Genie? The stable boys were frightened of him.”

“You will all be good, won’t you?” Eugenie said, looking around at her brothers’ faces. “You will be on your best behavior. Do you promise?”

Of course they all did, even Terry, but although she wanted to trust them past experience warned Eugenie not to believe a word.

Sinclair St. John, the fifth Duke of Somerton, had business to attend to. Estate business. But business would have to wait until he’d dealt with the question of his sister. Annabelle was being difficult. At the end of last year she had become engaged to Lord Lucius Salturn but as the date for the wedding drew closer she’d become very restless and unhappy. Sinclair didn’t know where she got her ideas from, but he knew their mother was depending on him to make her see sense before she arrived in London to attend prenuptial balls and soirees with her fiancé.

“I will die if I marry Lucius,” she declared dramatically. “He does not believe women should read books. He told me so. How can I possibly marry a man who thinks such things, Sinclair?”

“It is up to you to change his mind,” Sinclair retorted. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of that, Annabelle. He thinks you are a goddess. He told me so.”

That gave her pause, but not for long.

“I don’t want to get married. I am too young. Just think of all the fun I am missing out on by being engaged to Lucius.” Her voice wavered. “It isn’t fair of you to make me do this. I hate you, Sinclair.”

He sighed. Part of being an elder brother and the head of his family meant playing the disciplinarian. Sinclair knew the marriage was a coup where Annabelle was concerned, and Lucius was the perfect addition to their family. His mother had explained the importance of marrying within one’s own sphere, of doing one’s duty by one’s family. Sinclair knew that his tough behavior was for Annabelle’s own good, and any niggling doubts or sympathies he felt must be firmly quashed. But even so it was not easy to feel he was making her miserable.

“That’s as may be,” he said, steeling himself for her tears, “but you will be leaving for London on the first day of July and I expect you to be packed and ready. Do I make myself clear?”

His sister promptly fled the room, her steps ringing up the staircase and her sobs echoing up into the domed seventeenth-century gallery.

“Blast it,” Sinclair muttered, and flung out of the French windows and onto the terrace, where he glowered at a gardener’s boy who was staking lilies, frightening him badly. It was in Annabelle’s best interests to marry Lucius. A year ago their mother announced that Annabelle was growing far too wild and willful, and behaving in a manner that was quite unladylike. She needed curbing; she needed to be married.