Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

Griff was rapidly running out of time.

It had been nearly a week since his father’s ultimatum, and he was no closer to finding a suitable bride than he had been when his father had insisted he do so.

Because a cavalry officer was expected to provide his own horses and provisions, Griff spent nearly every waking moment preparing for war. He journeyed to Newmarket and visited Tattersall’s, inspecting the horseflesh before he purchased the three horses he was obliged to take with him. The rest of his time was spent at his tailor’s and his boot maker’s, where he endured fittings for uniforms and boots. He purchased camp furniture and a comfortable campaign tent as well as supplies and clothes for his groom and for his personal manservant.

His days had been so full that Griff had barely made appearances at the rounds of balls and parties to which he had been invited. And none of the young ladies at any of the parties he’d attended had made him consider staying long enough to dance with them.

Acknowledging the fact that he needed help, Griff called an emergency meeting of the Free Fellows League on the afternoon of the sixth day. He sent personal notes to the members asking that they meet in one of the private dining rooms at White’s.

They did not disappoint him.

Griff rose from his seat and greeted his friends and cofounders of the League as Colin, Lord Grantham, and Jarrod, Lord Shepherdston, entered the gentleman’s club at the appointed time. He poured three snifters of brandy from a bottle smuggled in from France by way of the Cornish coast, then handed one to Jarrod and one to Colin before raising his own.

“To the Free Fellows.” Griff proposed the toast, then tossed back half the liquor in his glass.

“To the Free Fellows,” his friends echoed.

But Jarrod raised an eyebrow at Griff’s uncharacteristic behavior. Griff never tossed back brandy—especially fine French brandy they had gone to a great deal of trouble to smuggle into the country. French brandy of a vintage meant to be savored. “Problems?” he asked.

“You might say that,” Griff answered. “I am, after all, about to become the first Free Fellow to relinquish his status.” He downed the rest of his brandy in one swallow.

“Say again?” Colin sputtered.

“We heard you’d been busy making the rounds about Town,” Jarrod commented dryly. “But we didn’t know you’d been that busy…”

Griff nodded. “I’ve been ordered to secure a bride before I join my regiment.”

“Ordered?” Colin repeated. “By whom? Your commanding officer?”

“First by my father,” Griff answered. “And then, by my commanding officer.” He pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Colin.

Colin unfolded the sheet of paper and read aloud. “To Major Lord Abernathy from Colonel Sir Raleigh Jeffcoat. Major Abernathy, the note contained herein is a direct order from commanding officer to subordinate ordering you, as the only son and heir of the Earl of Weymouth, to attend to your marital obligations and fulfill your duty to your family before you join the regiment.”

Colin stopped reading and handed the letter to Jarrod, who continued reading. “His Majesty’s Army does not make a practice of commissioning members of the peerage who are their family’s only sons and heirs because His Majesty’s Army has no wish to play a part in the extinction of a great family name. You are further informed that should you decide to disavow this direct order, your commission will be declined and the price of your commission shall be forfeited.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Colin announced as he stood at Jarrod’s shoulder and studied the colonel’s signature and seal. “The army usually prefers its officers to be bachelors. I’ve never known it to actively order a man to marry before.”

Jarrod snorted. “His Majesty’s Army didn’t order Griff’s marriage; his father did. And this must have cost him a pretty penny.” He gave a low, admiring whistle.

“I knew he had powerful friends in the War Department,” Griff muttered. “I just didn’t know how powerful his friends were or how determined he would be.”

“Judging from this unprecedented order, I’d say the earl is very determined to have his way and that his powerful friends are probably the highest in the land.” Jarrod tapped the letter against the edge of the table. “Lord Jeffcoat can be bought, but not cheaply.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Griff groaned. “My choice is the same in any case. Give up my bachelorhood or give up my commission.”

Although both of his friends currently held army commissions, they worked with Lieutenant Colonel Colquhoun Grant, who had served as General Wellesley’s intelligence officer and was quite adept at breaking French codes. Jarrod and Colin had proved similarly adept at ferreting out information and at code breaking and had been assigned to gather intelligence for the army. Currently, both remained headquartered in London.

Griff knew that Colin and Jarrod supported his decision because they understood how much it meant to him. Serving in the Horse Guards was all Griff had ever dreamed of doing. Joining the cavalry and fighting the French had been his greatest ambition, and although he’d managed to keep it a secret from his father until now, Griff had been on the waiting list for a commission since he’d left university.

When a vacancy finally opened up, Griff had been quick to purchase it. Unfortunately for Jarrod and Colin, that vacancy had been in a regiment bound for the Peninsula. Griff was ready to leave, but his friends were not. They were still trying to come to terms with the fact that Griff had accepted a commission in the Eleventh Blues, a regiment sure to become a part of General Wellesley’s major push to topple Bonaparte from the French throne.

Griff set his empty glass on the top of the sideboard, then reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed two thick parchment packets. He handed the envelopes to his friends. “I believe the recorded wager was two hundred pounds.” He frowned. “I trust paper currency is sufficient.”

When they’d reached their majority, each of the Free Fellows had wagered an additional two hundred pounds on who would be the first to marry. Two hundred pounds in addition to the five hundred they had agreed to forfeit in the Charter. Griff had bet on Jarrod, because Jarrod had been the first to inherit his father’s tide.

Jarrod had wagered that Colin would be the first to marry, because Colin was always short of funds and desperately needed to marry an heiress to help restore the family coffers.

Colin had wagered on Griff. Not because Griff needed money or because he was likely to inherit his tide any time soon, but because Griff had always been the most tenderhearted of the three and the most romantic.