Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

Colin snorted. “Tressingham isn’t the only fly in the ointment.” He turned to look at the Duke of Sussex. “Rumor has it that the duchess of Sussex wants her for her son’s bride.”

Griffin looked over at the duke and glared at the immaculate fit of his coat, the snowy white perfection of his four-in-hand, and the sleek fit of his evening trousers. Daniel, the ninth Duke of Sussex, had everything Griffin had to offer and more. Sussex’s family name was as ancient and as well respected as Griff’s. His title was more prestigious. His estates were grander and his personal fortune greater. Griffin couldn’t best him in looks, either, for Sussex was every bit as tall and equally attractive. Some would say more attractive, for Sussex was perfection, elegance, and grace personified, and Griff was too big to be considered elegant. He was merely ruggedly handsome. “Sussex can have anyone he wants.”

“So can you,” Jarrod pointed out.

“I want her,” Griffin replied in a stubborn tone of voice.

“Apparently, so does he,” Jarrod said, giving Griff a pointed look.

“Has he offered for her yet?” Griff demanded.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Jarrod admitted. “But he will. His mother…”

“He’ll have to choose someone else,” Griff insisted. “He has plenty of time. The clock isn’t ticking for him. He isn’t going off to war.”

“He may see things differently,” Jarrod reasoned. “And the Tressinghams are sure to choose a wealthy duke over a wealthy viscount. Look around. The room is filled with lovely young ladies. Do yourself a favor and choose someone else. Someone who doesn’t interest you.”

Griff was incredulous. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a Free Fellow,” Jarrod reminded him. “You took an oath. As Free Fellows, we shall never be encumbered by sentiment known as love or succumb to female wiles or tears.”

“I’m not in love,” Griff said. “And I’ve yet to meet the girl, so I can’t be succumbing to female wiles or tears.”

“Maybe not,” Colin added. “But you’re in danger of breaking another oath.” He stared at Griff and recited from memory, “We shall sacrifice ourselves on the altar of duty in order to beget our heirs, but we shall take no pleasure in the task. We shall look upon the act in the same manner as medicine that must be swallowed.”

Griffin groaned. “We took those oaths before we knew what we would be sacrificing…” He looked at his friends. “We were too young to have any practical carnal knowledge…”

“An oath is an oath,” Jarrod said. “And a gentleman always keeps his oath.”

“Especially when that oath was signed and sealed with blood,” Colin reminded him.

Griff sighed. “I am keeping my oath—as much of it as possible under the circumstances. I’ve no wish to relinquish my Free Fellows status. I don’t want to marry a stranger. But since circumstances compel me to do so in order to get an heir, I’d like to choose from the best breeding”—Griff winced as he said the word—“stock.” He found the idea of choosing women as if they were cattle personally distasteful, but that was the way in which these things were done, and he couldn’t change tradition at this late date. The fact was that he was marrying in order to get his family an heir and as far as his father, the Earl of Weymouth, was concerned, only the best breeding stock would do.

Colin looked at Jarrod. “He has a point.”

“Yes,” Jarrod agreed. “He does.” He turned to Griff. “Her father may be a tremendous bore, but Lady Alyssa is a beauty, and her family name is as old and honorable as yours. She’ll bring a handsome dowry into the marriage, and she certainly looks capable of producing an heir.”

“And we didn’t say that we couldn’t find our wives attractive, only that we couldn’t love them or succumb to female wiles,” Colin elaborated. “As to taking pleasure in the physical act…” he shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose that’s for each of us to decide for ourselves.” He grinned at Griff and then at Jarrod. “After all, we were only nine and ten at the time.”

Jarrod relented. “Then we’re in agreement. The charter can be amended. If we have to marry, we ought to get some pleasure out of it.” He reached over and clapped Griffin on the back. “Let’s find Lady Cowper and arrange an introduction before Sussex does. He’s more likely to win her than you are. But at least you’ll know what you’re losing.”

* * *

“Isn’t he divine?” Lady Tressingham lifted her fan, shielded her face, and glanced across the room at the man staring back at them. He smiled, and she answered back with a practiced flick of her wrist, expertly employing her fan in the art of flirtation. “Isn’t Sussex the most attractive man you’ve ever seen?”

There was no doubt that the Duke of Sussex was attractive, but there was something more appealing about the man on his right. “The duke is quite attractive, Mama,” Alyssa answered dutifully. “But tell me, who are the viscounts, and which one is the marquess?” She tried to sound as if her question were born of polite curiosity instead of a sudden, aching need to know.

Lady Tressingham gave a pained sigh. “You should have been studying your Debrett’s instead of refolding all the linens and making a pest of yourself with the housekeeper and the staff. Did you bother to memorize the pages I marked? Or any of it? Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said during the past few weeks? I cannot believe I reared such an ignorant daughter.”

Alyssa looked her mother in the eye. “I’m not ignorant, Mama. Just indifferent. Since I didn’t intend to marry, it made no sense to waste time memorizing information I didn’t need. And when you insisted I reconsider my decision, I decided to wait to memorize the pages of Debrett’s that will apply to me once you and Papa decide who I’m to marry.”

“That’s very sensible,” Lady Tressingham admitted, “except that you need the information before you choose a husband. Otherwise, how will you know what you’re getting? What if the duke doesn’t come up to snuff and offer for you?” Lady Tressingham frowned. It didn’t bear thinking on, but it was possible. After all, young Sussex had failed to offer for her three other daughters despite his exalted mother’s wishes.

“Quite right, Mama, but I knew there was no need for me to worry about that because I knew you were very familiar with Debrett’s and I didn’t know about the duke or his mother’s plans. Besides, I was busy gaining other knowledge—housekeeping knowledge every bride”— Alyssa said the magic word—“needs. Now, will you please tell me which viscount is which?”

“The only real housekeeping knowledge a bride needs is how to supervise a staff,” Lady Tressingham insisted stubbornly. “Your Debrett’s would be of more use in this situation. Now that you’re well on your way to becoming the Incomparable Beauty of the Season, you suddenly care about the knowledge you should have already gained from Debrett’s.”

“Yes, Mama, now I care. But even if I had memorized Debrett’s, it wouldn’t help, because Debrett’s doesn’t include likenesses, and no one wants to look or feel ignorant in front of a prospective suitor’s companions,” Alyssa replied quickly, praying her mother would supply the necessary information without further comment because she didn’t like dissembling. Especially to her mother. “And it’s obvious that those three men are friends, so tell me, who is who?”