"As a national hero, your job is to remain neutral, Griff," Jarrod told him. "You shouldn't be arguing this issue. Not when they already know my political leanings and that I excel in securing financial backing for government ventures."
"Ordinarily, I would agree." Griff laughed. "But today…"
"But today, I have to get to Lambeth Palace and purchase a special license to marry. Christ!" Jarrod swore, feeling for his watch. "Hang Dunbridge! What time is it? I've got to be at the palace by nine."
"And after Lambeth Palace comes shopping," Colin reminded him.
* * * * *
White's was crowded when Griff, Colin and Jarrod arrived. The jeers and the catcalls began as they made their way to their customary meeting room.
"You don't seem to have any holes in you, Shepherdston," someone called out. "I guess that means Dunbridge got the worst of it."
"Congratulations in order yet? Or shall we say commiserations?"
"Shepherdston, have you seen the morning papers yet?"
"Why?" Jarrod shot back. "Is your obituary in it?"
"No, but yours will be soon." Someone laughed. "Just as soon as they print the announcement of your nuptials."
"Ignore it," Colin advised, walking beside him, his Scottish burr thick with anger. "Remember that they're bunch of ignorant Sassenach lords." Colin reached out and snagged a newspaper from the stack on a nearby table."
"Page three," came the helpful comment.
Colin opened the paper and quickly flipped it to the third page, in the gossip section of the paper, to a column called "Ton Tidbits," and began reading. "'What's to become of Miss Sarah Eckersley, who was seen at Lady Garrison's elegant gala last evening in the company of the elusive Marquess of Shepherdston? Has she been taken off the market? No one can say for sure, but Miss Eckersley proved to be the bone of contention last evening when Lord Dunbridge, a devoted follower of the prince regent's close friend Mr. George Brummell, challenged Lord Shepherdston to a duel. Are wedding bells in the Marquess of Shepherdston's future? Has the perennial bachelor marquess finally succumbed to the lure of orange blossoms? Can a rustic rector's daughter take him off the market? No one seems to know for sure… But we will surely find out soon…'"
"Imagine the mighty Shepherdston being brought low by a rather homely rustic!"
"One Dunbridge claimed!"
There was a burst of laughter all around.
"One the Beau talked Dunbridge into pursuing for the Beau's own amusement."
There was another round of hearty laughter.
"Egads! But I heard she has red hair and freckles!"
"I'll wager Shepherdston will be increasing the size of his family by two. But will the brat look like Dunbridge or Shepherdston?"
"Won't matter," a voice answered. "It'll have Shepherdston's name and he'll have to claim him."
"Better hope it's a female, "cause I heard that the next Marchioness of Shepherdston has the same inclinations as the last one."
Jarrod took a step toward the gentleman who'd made the last comment, but Griff took hold of his arm. "Easy, Jarrod," he said. "Keep the larger goal in mind."
"And her a rector's daughter! Why, the old man must be spinning in his grave!"
"Still waters run deep. Look at Shepherdston. There hasn't been a hint of scandal attached to his name in years. Not since that thing with his parents… And all of a sudden, he's ruined a girl and fought a duel within hours of one another."
"Couldn't have done much ruining," someone else called. "Not when she's already spread her legs for Dunbridge."
"Was that you, Mannington?" Griff spun on his heel as he recognized the voice. "Look to your own glass house before you cast stones in someone else's direction. Your father was a bishop. And everyone can see what a gentleman you've turned out to be. How many governesses have you ruined now? Four? Five?"
Jarrod whirled around. "What the devil is wrong with you? You call yourselves the cream of English society while you sit in judgment on others. You imagine me brought low by a rustic," he continued. "You relish the idea, yet I know that I couldn't be brought low by any young lady, rustic or otherwise. I've been low. I couldn't sink any lower. After searching the width and breadth of England for love, I've found myself the grateful recipient of it. I haven't been brought low, I've found my wings… Love doesn't limit," Jarrod said. "It expands. You should all be so fortunate."
"Nicely done," Griff congratulated him as they passed through the main room and into their usual one and found Barclay and Courtland waiting. "If