Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

The earl fought to keep from grinning from ear to ear. His son was a man he could be proud of. Was proud of. But that didn’t keep him from wanting to throttle him. Imagine his only son and heir choosing—choosing—to take up a commission as a major in the cavalry.

“I knew you’d hear about it,” Griff admitted. “I just didn’t expect you to hear about it quite so soon.”

“So soon?” Weymouth came perilously close to shouting. “You accepted that commission a sennight ago. I only learned of it this morning.”

“I did ask that my decision be kept quiet until I had a chance to discuss it with you,” Griffin offered.

“And when did you intend our discussion to take place?” The earl’s tone had taken on a biting edge, a biting edge that had been known to quell far greater men than his son.

“If you’ll check your appointment calendar, sir, I believe you’ll find your secretary assigned me the hours between four and six tomorrow at White’s.”

Weymouth reached over, flipped open his appointment book, and discovered that his son’s name had, indeed, been duly noted for the hours of four to six at White’s on the following afternoon. “You could have discussed this with me before you accepted the commission. Or did you keep it secret because you feared I would withhold my approval?”

“I have reached my majority,” Griff reminded his father. “I don’t fear your displeasure or require your approval.”

“You are my heir,” the earl replied. “My only heir. Have you no sense of duty?”

“England is at war. Father,” Griffin said.

“I know England is at war!” Weymouth barked. “I see the results of it every day at the War Office, and I’ve no wish to see my heir’s name added to the casualty lists.”

Griff straightened his shoulders and stood at attention. “I had hoped that you would be pleased that I had decided to serve my country in her time of need.”

“Pleased?” Weymouth snorted. “I’d be pleased if you would forget this nonsense. I’d be pleased if you’d sell your commission to someone else and let them serve in your place.”

“So the Earl of Weymouth’s heir can be spared? So someone else’s heir’s name can appear on the casualty lists?” Griff glared at his father.

Weymouth glared back. “Yes, dammit! Better theirs than mine.”

“Have you so little confidence in my ability to survive?” Griffin asked.

“I have every confidence in your ability to survive,” Weymouth said, “as long as you stay home where you belong. We’re not talking about fox hunting or stalking stag or hunting expeditions spent traipsing across the wilds of Scotland with your friends. We’re talking about war.”

“I know what war is, Father.”

“Do you?” Weymouth mused. “I wonder. I wonder if anyone who hasn’t experienced it knows what war is.”

“Then let’s just say that I know where my duty lies.”

“Your duty lies with your family, with tending and preserving what your mother and I have tended and preserved for you.”

“And what of Bonaparte and the threat he poses to England and to our way of life?”

“What of it?” Weymouth demanded. “Bonaparte is more of a threat to our family and our way of life if you go to serve against him than he would be if you stayed home and watched him conquer the whole of England.”

Griff recoiled, shocked to the core by his father’s words. “I cannot believe you would forfeit your country so willingly.”

“I am a great deal more w

illing to forfeit my country than I am to forfeit my son.”

“You mean your heir,” Griff corrected.

“I mean my son, dammit!” Weymouth glared at that son, daring him to contradict. “And I cannot believe that you would willingly forfeit your future and your family’s future in order to become cannon fodder for the French.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Cavalry. Bloody hell. I could understand the navy. I could even understand a commission as one of Wellesley’s aides. But the cavalry…” He shook his head. “It’s foolhardy. It’s vainglorious. It’s the most dangerous—”

“It’s my strength,” Griff said softly. “I sit a horse better than any man you know.”

Weymouth nodded. “You sit a horse better than any man I’ve ever seen or ever hope to see.”