duke—
he
was supposed to be the second son with lesser titles and the luxury of time to indulge in the pursuit of worldly adventure.
Some might argue that he had seen enough adventure to last a lifetime, but he could not agree. When Anthony was very much alive and performing quite nicely as the duke, Alex had been plagued with stifling ennui. When an old family friend had reported the treasures he had found in Africa, Alex had eagerly accepted an invitation to accompany him on a return trip. That experience in the Serengeti Plain had whetted his appetite for raw adventure. Since then, he had traipsed the Himalayas, had sailed to the Orient, and had discovered the wilds of North America.
It was a lifestyle that suited him well and one for which he still yearned, but a tragic accident on horseback unexpectedly claimed Anthony's life five years ago. He bitterly recalled being abruptly summoned home to find his beloved brother truly dead and himself an instant duke. The change in his responsibility was almost as instantaneous as the change in attitude of those around him—old and new acquaintances alike were suddenly scraping their knuckles in front of him. And in addition to coping with his loss he suddenly found himself at the head of a powerful dukedom and a vast fortune. He no longer had the luxury of several months to leisurely explore the world.
For five years now, he thought wearily, he had been a duke. Five years it had taken to grow accustomed to being
the
center of attention. Five years to learn the intricacies of the family holdings and accept the enormous responsibilities of being a duke, not the least of which included the production of heirs. At least Anthony had made that part of his responsibility easy enough, and he had, finally, set a wedding date with Lady Marlaine Reese, just as everyone expected him to do.
Anthony had been promised to Marlaine almost from the moment of her birth. The Christian-Reese family alliance was almost legend. His father Augustus had befriended the young Earl of Whitcomb before either had married, and the two had formed a monopoly of sorts through their partnership in iron manufacture. The Christian-Reese factories had successfully underpriced other factories for the production of cannons, guns, and ironworks during the Peninsular War, making both families obscene profits. The two men were of like minds, and the powerful voting bloc they formed in the House of Lords had further solidified their long-standing friendship. Everyone knew that a Christian-Reese vote on a bill was as good as passing it.
It was perfectly natural that their children should continue the alliance, and Anthony was quite content to marry Marlaine, even though he was fifteen when she was born. Alex remembered she was always a pretty, affable girl, but she was still in the schoolroom when Anthony died. When she made her debut three years ago, Alex had determined she was as good a solution to his ducal responsibility to produce heirs as he was likely to find. His title required a good business arrangement in a marriage, and Marlaine was definitely that. Moreover, she was trained to be a duke's wife, was pleasant enough, and was a comfortable, quiet companion. As those things went, she would make a good wife, and he had finally offered for her—as everyone expected he would do—two years ago when she had turned twenty-one.
The sound of the pocket doors sliding open interrupted his thoughts, and Alex turned.
"Welcome home, darling." His mother, Hannah, glided into the room, followed by Marlaine on the arm of his younger brother, Arthur.
Alex crossed the room to greet her. "Thank you, Mother. I hope I find you well?"
"Of course! A small ache in my back is all I have to complain of," Hannah said with a smile. "And it is not worth mentioning. You should be quite pleased to know that Lord and Lady Whitcomb are visiting Lady Whitcomb's sister in Brighton. As it is such a short drive, I invited Marlaine to visit
he
was supposed to be the second son with lesser titles and the luxury of time to indulge in the pursuit of worldly adventure.
Some might argue that he had seen enough adventure to last a lifetime, but he could not agree. When Anthony was very much alive and performing quite nicely as the duke, Alex had been plagued with stifling ennui. When an old family friend had reported the treasures he had found in Africa, Alex had eagerly accepted an invitation to accompany him on a return trip. That experience in the Serengeti Plain had whetted his appetite for raw adventure. Since then, he had traipsed the Himalayas, had sailed to the Orient, and had discovered the wilds of North America.
It was a lifestyle that suited him well and one for which he still yearned, but a tragic accident on horseback unexpectedly claimed Anthony's life five years ago. He bitterly recalled being abruptly summoned home to find his beloved brother truly dead and himself an instant duke. The change in his responsibility was almost as instantaneous as the change in attitude of those around him—old and new acquaintances alike were suddenly scraping their knuckles in front of him. And in addition to coping with his loss he suddenly found himself at the head of a powerful dukedom and a vast fortune. He no longer had the luxury of several months to leisurely explore the world.
For five years now, he thought wearily, he had been a duke. Five years it had taken to grow accustomed to being
the
center of attention. Five years to learn the intricacies of the family holdings and accept the enormous responsibilities of being a duke, not the least of which included the production of heirs. At least Anthony had made that part of his responsibility easy enough, and he had, finally, set a wedding date with Lady Marlaine Reese, just as everyone expected him to do.
Anthony had been promised to Marlaine almost from the moment of her birth. The Christian-Reese family alliance was almost legend. His father Augustus had befriended the young Earl of Whitcomb before either had married, and the two had formed a monopoly of sorts through their partnership in iron manufacture. The Christian-Reese factories had successfully underpriced other factories for the production of cannons, guns, and ironworks during the Peninsular War, making both families obscene profits. The two men were of like minds, and the powerful voting bloc they formed in the House of Lords had further solidified their long-standing friendship. Everyone knew that a Christian-Reese vote on a bill was as good as passing it.
It was perfectly natural that their children should continue the alliance, and Anthony was quite content to marry Marlaine, even though he was fifteen when she was born. Alex remembered she was always a pretty, affable girl, but she was still in the schoolroom when Anthony died. When she made her debut three years ago, Alex had determined she was as good a solution to his ducal responsibility to produce heirs as he was likely to find. His title required a good business arrangement in a marriage, and Marlaine was definitely that. Moreover, she was trained to be a duke's wife, was pleasant enough, and was a comfortable, quiet companion. As those things went, she would make a good wife, and he had finally offered for her—as everyone expected he would do—two years ago when she had turned twenty-one.
The sound of the pocket doors sliding open interrupted his thoughts, and Alex turned.
"Welcome home, darling." His mother, Hannah, glided into the room, followed by Marlaine on the arm of his younger brother, Arthur.
Alex crossed the room to greet her. "Thank you, Mother. I hope I find you well?"
"Of course! A small ache in my back is all I have to complain of," Hannah said with a smile. "And it is not worth mentioning. You should be quite pleased to know that Lord and Lady Whitcomb are visiting Lady Whitcomb's sister in Brighton. As it is such a short drive, I invited Marlaine to visit
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