Prologue
Sir Colin Wilde burst through the door of White’s, accidently knocking a fellow over and another into his glass of whiskey. “I am in love!”
A few gentlemen cheered him, others cursed, but he didn’t care, not after sharing the best kiss of his life with her.
His eyes fell on Anthony and Ambrose Benson, his idiot best friends. With a determined grin he marched over to them and slammed his fist down in the middle of their table, making a loud noise and snapping the twins out of an argument about how to rear children. The mighty had truly fallen if the once rakish Viscount Maddox was discussing childrearing.
“Wilde!” Ambrose said, rising and slapping him on the shoulder. “It is about time you showed up. We were beginning to wonder if that last escapade of yours had done you in.”
Even Ambrose’s barb at Colin’s most recent failing could do nothing to dampen his spirits.
Anthony stood then, squinting as though scrutinizing Colin’s expression. “I say, Ambrose, he looks almost… happy.”
“Happy? I believe you’re right, Anthony. Do you suppose he’s gone mad?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. The poor fellow has had a terrible run these past few weeks. A lesser man would certainly have caved under the humiliation.”
Colin rolled his eyes and frowned, for perhaps the first time since it happened. “With all due respect, my lords, do shut up. I have news!”
He cleared his throat and waited. When the two looked at him in unison, he announced, “I am in love.”
“Hmm… I see. So you have devoted this moment to public humiliation. Please, a bit of decorum, if you can find it within you. Sit down and drink yourself under the table. Love, my dear fellow, is a cardinal sin for a rake. You are ruining your hard-earned reputation by spouting such nonsense.”
“I am a rake no more.”
Anthony cursed. “Well, that didn’t last long.”
“What?” Ambrose countered. “Was it two weeks before he realized it was an asinine plan from its conception?”
Colin, as usual, ignored them and blurted, “Lady Gemma and I have come to an understanding.”
“Have you now?” Anthony smirked and nudged his brother in the ribs. “Alert Parliament immediately!”
With a conspiratorial wink, Ambrose lifted his glass in toast. “Sir Wilde finally understands women!”
Anthony lifted his own glass to meet his brother’s. “A bit of a meeting of the minds, as it were.”
“From the satisfied grin, I’d say it was more than just their minds, eh?” Ambrose added.
They both laughed raucously and congratulated each other on their keen wit.
Were it not for his indomitable joy, Colin might have been tempted to tip the table over on them. Instead, he rolled his eyes and cursed half-heartedly.
“Idiots. Both of you.”
The two of them only laughed more. Clearly they were foxed beyond expectation of any rational conversation. Nevertheless, Colin pressed on.
“Lady Gemma and I have decided to—”
Ambrose leaned forward with a mocking twinkle in his eyes. “Arrange a meeting of the lips?”
Anthony chuckled. “Hold hands?”
“No. Wait!” Ambrose snapped his fingers. “Stare into one another’s eyes and recite Byron.”
“At times I wonder why we are friends,” Colin said dryly. He didn’t know why he bothered to tell them things. “We have mended our ways. I shall ask permission for her hand this very day!”
“Says who?” came a dark voice from behind him. Ambrose and Anthony suddenly stared into their drinks as if the liquid was speaking to them. Colin turned, only to come face-to-face with Gemma’s brother, the Marquess of Van Burge.
Before Colin had a chance to react, the man’s giant fist brought a crushing blow to his left temple and everything went black.
When he came to, Colin blinked several times to clear the fog. What just happened? Blood dripped into his eyes. All around him, the room was spinning, and he thought he caught a snatch of a frantic scuffle, some shouting. Was someone saying his name? He glanced up, but everything was blurry. Blinking again, he tried to focus on the image standing over him.
“Fight like a man, Wilde!” Hawke Reynolds, Marquess of Van Burge sneered. Colin squinted at the giant looming above him. Not a drop of blood marred his chiseled face, which really was a pity, because had Colin had a half a chance, he could have gotten a few good swings in. He had done a fair amount of boxing during his time in his majesty’s service.
As it was, he hadn’t even seen the giant fist coming.
But he felt it! All the way down to his Hessians. He wouldn’t be at all shocked to find his body still at White's while his head was somewhere near France. “What the devil is going on here?” Anthony shouted, making a valiant effort to hold Van Burge back. Odd, Colin hadn’t remembered his friend having two heads. Then again, perhaps the second head was his twin brother, Ambrose.
“He ruined my sister!” Lord Van Burge shouted.
“Oh. In that case, by all means, continue.” Anthony released him and motioned for drinks. “What will it be, Ambrose? Whiskey or gin? To think we assumed it would be a boring afternoon. A toast to Sir Wilde for providing such exciting entertainment.”
“Hear, hear!” Ambrose grinned and threw back the contents of his glass.
Blasted traitors. Both of them.
Lord Van Burge shot them both a murderous look.
“Well…” Anthony squinted and gestured toward Colin. “Get on with it.”
“Wait!” Colin put up his bloody hands. “I assure you that the kiss was something a brother would bestow upon a sister!”
“Come now, Wilde. That’s not what you were just describing to us.” Anthony laughed. “If I kissed my family in that manner I’d be sent to prison!”
“He’s jesting!” Colin argued, giving Anthony a scathing glare. “Besides, nobody saw, and it isn’t as if she is ruined!”
“Actually…” Anthony cleared his throat. Blast the man, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? “I saw the kiss in question, and it was a lovely kiss. I do believe Wilde took my tutelage quite well. Didn’t you also use your tongue, Wilde?”
“That’s a lie!” Colin shouted as he struggled to his feet. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with the blood already there.
“My sister will never marry beneath her station, Wilde. Never. And you are naught but a pretender, with a joke for a title. You should have taken the hint the first time. Now you shall surely pay for your presumption. To tell you the truth, I’m glad of it. I’ve been wanting to pummel you for years.”