PROLOGUE
EARLY NOVEMBER, 1826~LONDON, ENGLAND
LordRowanGarrison, the newly mintedEarlofScarborough, enteredWhite’sand headed upstairs to his favorite spot before the huge fireplace—hoping it hadn’t already been taken.Ashe entered the room, he noticed various gentlemen and peers seated, some reading the newspaper, some having spirited business meetings, and some enjoying a late breakfast.Buthe was looking for relaxation and a place to meet his friends.
Hislife had taken an unexpected turn of events last month—and that was putting it mildly.He’dinherited an earldom and, thus far, had visited one of the properties—a dilapidated manor house inSussex—the only redeeming quality was that it was located near the estate of his friendViscountThomasLatham.Rowanhad just moved into theMayfairtownhouse that he’d inherited as he considered which properties he’d visit next.
He’dbeen pleasantly surprised that the townhouse had not been in the same miserable shape as the home inSussex.Hefound it maintained by a small staff of five—whom he thanked for keeping the place clean, comfortable, and running smoothly.Althoughthe townhouse had peeling wallpaper and worn carpets—both easily replaced—the furnishings had been updated recently—something he’d found odd—along with recent additions, including a bathing room.Logically, one would spend time and funds on refurbishing the walls and floors first.Perhapshis mother’s uncle had died before he could complete the work.Itwas obvious that theMayfairproperty had been his great-uncle’s main residence.Evenso, it reflected the old man’s rather eccentric sensibilities.Rowandidn’t mind one way or the other.Duringthe war, he’d slept in a tent or on the ground under the stars.Asan agent working for theCrownfor the past ten years, he’d lived in all sorts of places, from elegant townhouses to a bare-bones shack in the middle of the woods.Luckilyfor him, he was adaptable to any living condition.
Afootman approached. “Anotherbrandy, my lord?”
“Yes.Thankyou.I’llhave a cigar if you have them with you.I’mwaiting for my friends,LordsSorenandLathamandSirNelson.”
“Verygood, my lord.Whenthey arrive,I’llsend them this way.”Thefootman refilledRowan’sglass and lit his cigar.
Leaningback in the large leather seat in front of the wall-sized fireplace,Rowanallowed himself to relax for the first time since leavingFrance, and his mind drifted to the last—and very short—rather eye-opening conversation he’d had with his commanding general. “You’vebeen given a damn lucky break here,Garrison.Inheritingan earldom,” his commander had said. “Iknow you love the military life and working as an agent, butIthink your gifts could be better put to use elsewhere.”
Rowanhad tried to argue withGeneralDudley, who also happened to be like a father to him, but the older man held up a hand and continued to speak beforeRowancould get a word in.
“You’rea handsome devil,Garrison, and that has always worked in your favor until recently.Therehave been rumors and whispers circulating, andI’mafraid those whispers could turn into downright accusations.Whilethe ladies cannot resist you, their husbands cannot stand you.Beforeyou get into any hot water thatIwon’t be able to get you out of,Isuggest you follow my advice:Runyour estates, get married, and start making babies before a jealous husband calls you out with pistols at dawn.”
GeneralDudleyhad signed his exit papers posthaste, discharging him to his new life and ordering him to be on the next ship out ofFrance.
Restless,Rowansat up and glanced behind him, hoping to see one of his friends.Seeingno one, he turned around and leaned back in his seat.Hehad been inEnglandfor two weeks and still hadn’t seen his best friends,LordSebastianSoren, known as “Slice” to his friends,SirJonathanNelsonandViscountThomasLatham.Thefour had been friends since they were boys atEton.Althoughlife had taken them in different directions, they had remained steadfast.Slicehad joined the military with him but, since then, had created a lucrative career in security with ties to theEasternStarShippingCompany—Latham’sjoint venture with several mutual friends.
NelsonownedEnGarde, a prominent fencing club inLondon.Heand his brother, theEarlofShefford, had opened it a handful of years ago in honor of their father, who had insisted they excel at swordsmanship.Nelson’sskills and those of his brother had made it one ofEngland’sfavored places for training.Prinnyroutinely utilizedEnGardeto train his highly placed military leaders and knightedNelsonfor his contribution years ago.
Withno title to assume, a military career had seemed a natural choice forRowan, who, since boyhood, had craved the thrill of battle.He’dlearned all too well that the realities of war were anything but.Warwas brutal, gruesome, and tragic.Butit made him the man he was today.
NowthatRowanhad more money than he could spend in three lifetimes,Rowancould also spoil his mother and twin younger sisters.Whilehis family had always been comfortable, they had never had the kind of wealth that would be deemed lavish.Hismother, whom he adored, was a clever and talented woman with excellent taste and could haggle better than aBillingsgatefishmonger.He’dvisited them when he’d first arrived and had asked if they’d like to travel toScotlandto oversee refurbishing one of the properties inEastLothian, just outside ofEdinburgh.Theyhad been thrilled with the suggestion.Theydecided to stay inEdinburghin the family’s townhouse and then travel to the small estate to oversee the renovations.Heknew they would enjoy themselves, and he promised to visit them as soon as possible.Rowanplanned to turn over the refurbishment of hisKentproperty as soon as they finished theEdinburghestate.
“Garrison, you devil!Howare you?”Slicesaid, slapping him on the back.
“It’sgood to see you,Slice.Ididn’t hear you come up behind me,”Rowansaid, standing up and shaking hands with his friend.
Slicefolded his tall frame into a leather chair opposite his. “Youseemed preoccupied whenIarrived,”Slicesaid.
“IsupposeIwas deep in thought,”Rowansaid.
Hisfriend gave a wry chuckle. “Youhave a lot to think about these days,I’dimagine,”Slicesaid.
“Indeed,”Rowansaid, motioning the footman over. “Whatwould you like to drink?”
“Ifthat’s brandy you have, that’s good enough for me,”Slicesaid.
“Itis.Theyseem to have upgraded their stock,”Rowansaid.
“TheFrenchstuff is easier to get now,Isuppose.”
Rowanswirled the amber liquid in his snifter.Thefootman arrived and pouredSlicea glass of brandy and offeredSlicea cigar as well.
“Whenyou come back this way, please bring two more brandies.”Rowantapped the small table to the right of him, motioning for the footman to leave the extra glass there.
“Yes, my lord,” the footman said with a quick bob before leaving.
“Bythe way, congratulations on inheriting the earldom,Garrison,”Slicesaid, raising his glass in a toast. “OrshallIcall youScarboroughfrom now on?”
Rowanquirked a half-smile. “Thankyou.IsupposeI’llhave to get used to the new title.ButI’llstill beGarrisonto my friends.
