The late Duke had no close family of his own, and the way Sir Richard told it, the late Duke hadn’t wanted his wife’s older brother to take charge of both an earldom and a dukedom, as too much power could easily corrupt a man.
Thus, Sir Richard had spent a few glorious years holding the keys to one of England’s most powerful dukedoms—a position he still craved.
Now that Harry was of age and had been managing the dukedom for almost eight years, his uncle always sought ways to remain popular.
One of those ways was to host fancy dinners and balls to bring the high society of London together. It had been at such a dinner that Harry had apparently met this young lady, who was eager to reacquaint herself with him.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Unah. I do not recall our previous meeting.”
“Right,” she muttered, looking away, her hazel eyes darting around the room as if she were searching for an excuse to leave.
She didn’t need one. Truthfully, Harry had no intention of carrying on this conversation. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to be asked to dance. She wanted to set her cap for him. Yes, probably she had entertained lofty dreams of becoming his Duchess ever since they had supposedly met at his uncle’s dinner.
Harry wasn’t a cruel man, but he also didn’t like to waste his time, and thus he stood straight and nodded his head once.
“Well, I hope you enjoy your ball, Lady Unah,” he said and then walked away, leaving her standing there like an unpicked flower.
He had to get out of here. He despised balls. He despised dinners and the opera. Not because he was antisocial, but because hehated that he was always among those who were the center of attention. Blasted title.
“Harry,” his uncle said in his deep voice as he stepped out from behind a pillar.
Like Harry, Sir Richard was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and an angular face. They also shared their blue eyes and blond hair. At times, they had been mistaken for brothers, although these days, Sir Richard’s face was marked with lines that spoke of his advanced age.
“What a meager lot,” he remarked. “You would have thought that they would have some higher-caliber ladies here tonight. And how unaware of their mediocrity they are. Look at them. They all think they are diamonds of the first water.”
Harry licked his lips. “Perhaps,” he said.
“Are you going to ask anyone to dance?” his uncle inquired, although without much interest.
“I have not met anyone who has caught my fancy,” Harry replied.
“Well,” his uncle said with a shrug, “I suppose you ought to at least dance with somebody. These ladies are tolerable at best, it is true, but it would be polite. Lord Worcester’s daughters are not awful to look at, although they’re not exactly pedigreed. They’ll do for a dance.”
Harry frowned and followed his uncle’s gaze to the three women standing by the door. There appeared to be a disagreement of some sort between two of the women as the chestnut-haired lady turned around, her demi-train fluttering in the air as she made for the garden.
He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what was going on when his uncle poked him in the arm.
“Are you paying any attention?”
He looked at his uncle. “Uncle Richard, what is it?”
“Sir Richard when we are in public. You know this, Harry.”
Harry suppressed the urge to demand his uncle call him ‘Your Grace’ in that case, knowing it would lead nowhere.
“What is it?” he repeated instead, in as civil a manner as he could.
“I said you might consider a union with the Duke of Hemingford’s daughter. She is a prime article, and she comes from money. It would be good for our family. Plus, Hemingford is on his last legs. He’s desperate to secure his daughter’s future, and he owns several estates, one bordering Ridlington Estate. We could consolidate his properties with ours. Do not forget he does not have a male heir.”
Harry shrugged. The names and faces of the lords and ladies of the ton were all merging into one. “I am not really interested.”
“Not interested?” his uncle scoffed. “And who, pray tell, do you suggest will produce an heir to the dukedom? Do you want the estate I’ve worked so hard for to go to the Crown? Heaven knows if I had an eligible daughter, I would have insisted that you marry her, to keep our line pure, but that is not an option,” he said bitterly.
Harry felt bile rise in his throat, as it so often did when he had to have conversations with his uncle. The idea of being forced into marriage—let alone one with a cousin—was distasteful to him. He knew weddings among cousins and marriages of convenience were common, but he’d never considered such a thing. If he were to marry… well,he’d make the choice, not his uncle.
“Indeed, it is not,” Harry replied.
His uncle took a deep breath, and Harry knew that this was one of those moments where he had to pick his battles. He could continue antagonizing his uncle, which would result in an argument. While Harry would enjoy making the older man’s hackles rise, the price would be steeper than he’d want to pay.
