Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

Although he desperately needed the cash, Colin was reluctant to accept it. He glanced down at the envelope, then back at his friend. “Griff, you don’t have to do this.” He attempted to press the money back into Griff’s hand.

Griff shook his head, refusing to accept it. “A wager is a wager, Colin. Take the money. You won it fair and square.”

They had made their first wagers when they formed the Free Fellows League. Griff and Colin had been nine years of age, and Jarrod had been a year older. They had had to wait until they were old enough to join the venerable gentleman’s club in order to record the wager on the betting books at White’s. Recording the original wager and adding to it had been the first order of business the day they became members. Now, nearly seventeen years later, Griff was paying his debt.

“Who’s the future Lady Abernathy?” Jarrod asked.

“I have no idea,” Griff answered honestly. “Only that there is going to be one. And if I don’t choose a bride for myself, my father will choose one for me.”

“You’ve no young lady in mind?” Colin was stunned.

“None.” Griff sighed. “I’m going to war. Besides, I had no intention of going against our League rules. I didn’t intend to marry at all and certainly not before I reached the age of thirty. Unfortunately, my father is determined to secure the succession.”

“Of course he is,” Jarrod said.

“You’re an only child, and it’s natural that your father make demands of you in order to insure his family name and holdings not become extinct.”

Griffin glared at him.

Jarrod held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m not saying I agree with his method. I’m simply saying that I understand why he’s employing it.”

“I understand it, too,” Griff admitted. “That’s what makes my decision so difficult.” He looked at his friends. “I want to do right by my father and my family, but I am determined to be my own man. My own cavalry man.”

“So,” Colin cut right to the heart of the matter. “I guess that means you’re getting married before you leave. How long do you have?”

“A week.”

Jarrod swore. “How in the bloody hell do you expect to find a suitable bride in one week’s time? Especially when you’ve spent your evenings cavorting with the ladies at Madame Theodora’s.”

“I haven’t been to Madame Theodora’s in over a week,” Griff retorted. “And you know it, or you would have seen me there.”

None of the Free Fellows kept mistresses, choosing to frequent several very discreet, very select, houses of pleasure instead.

“Unlike the two of you,” Griff continued, pinning his friends with a knowing look, “I’ve made at least a cursory appearance at every ball, rout, musicale, and soiree to which I’ve been invited for the past six days.”

Colin tried to keep from shuddering and failed. “I heard you were among the crush at Lady Cleveland’s the other night, but I thought it must have been a mistake.”

Griff shook his head. “It was a mistake, but not a case of mistaken identity. If someone told you they saw me there, they were telling the truth. I did make a brief appearance.”

“And no one caught your eye?” Colin asked.

Lady Cleveland’s party was one of the highlights of the season. It was crammed with carefully chaperoned young debutantes all vying to catch the attention of the wealthy gentlemen. Unfortunately, there had been such a crush of people there that Griff had opted to leave as soon as possible in order to make way for some other poor bride-questing bachelor.

“Plenty of women caught my eye, but none of the sort I should be seeking as a wife.” Griff paused for a moment, reconsidering. “There was one young lady.” He’d only caught a glimpse of her from across the room. He had seen her again, two nights later, at Lady Dorrance’s musicale, but he hadn’t spoken to her. Nor had he gotten her name. He’d only seen her twice. But she had caught his attention. “Unfortunately, I’ve no idea who she was.”

“I know just the girl you’re talking about,” Jarrod drawled. “Pale blond curls? Big blue eyes? Flawless complexion? Pink lips? Weak mind? Eager mama?”

“You’re loads of help.” Griff scowled. “Especially since you know more than half of the debutantes this season fit that description.”

“More than half the debutantes fit that description every season,” Jarrod said. “And except for the eager mama, the knowledge I’ve gleaned from observing you at Madame Theodora’s would lead me to believe that that’s the sort of girl you would choose. It does appear to be your usual preference.”

“My usual preference has nothing to do with it,” Griff snapped. “I’m searching for a wife, not an evening bedmate.”

Jarrod raised his eyebrow in question, then shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the one searching for a bride.”

Griffin felt the color rise in his face. “You know what I mean,” he said. “There is a difference in amusing oneself with a woman with whom you share a bed and breakfast and little else and selecting a woman to share the remainder of one’s life. My lady must possess a brain and a few more talents. She must meet a higher standard than my usual bedmates.”

“Spoken like a true Englishman,” Colin scoffed. “I’d rather my bedmate possess the brain and the talents. All I require of my wife is a pleasing face, a relatively slim form, and a very fat dowry.”