Scandal, Secrets, and the Marquess (The Lost Lords #2)

Prologue

England 1814

S adness sat heavily on Malcolm’s bent shoulders. He slumped inward, trying to make himself as small as possible as he sat in a chair in the corner of his brother’s study. His dead brother. His breath hitched painfully in his chest. In fact, his chest ached at the effort it took to keep back the sobs he wished he could let escape. What was going to happen to him now that he was all alone?

Across the room, his family’s solicitor spoke with one of his father’s oldest friends, the Duke of Hartwick. The solicitor’s panicked voice carried across the room.

“No one can ever know the circumstance surrounding his death if the boy is ever to have a chance to right the title. There was no will, no guardian appointed. There is nothing left after all the creditors descended. A tragedy is what it is.”

“The elder Lord Kingsbury was a close friend. I will not let another of his sons fall into despair. How old is the boy?”

“Fifteen, your grace.”

“All right, old enough then. I will procure a letter of service from the crown and pay for a naval commission. He is too young yet to claim his title anyway. At least he will have a career and a path to follow. Close up the estate house. I will pay severance to the servants.”

“That is most generous of you, your grace.”

“It is the least I can do. I wish I had kept a better eye on Paul after their parents passed. How did he manage to waste it all in such a short amount of time?”

Malcolm watched the duke run a hand down his face. Then, his father’s friend turned and walked toward him. The duke crouched in front of Malcolm’s chair. He had kind eyes, soft and gray as the sky on an April day.

The duke’s heavy hand patted Malcolm’s knee and stayed there, warm and comforting. “Son, you won’t be going back to school. Instead, I will see that you start a new career as a naval officer. I have an old friend, a Royal Navy captain, and I will request you be put on his ship. Would you like that? A chance to sail the open sea and travel the world?”

Malcolm understood what wasn’t being said. He was not a small child. He knew there was nothing left here for him. Everyone he loved was dead. And even though the fear that had been ever-present since he had been told the news of Paul’s death still felt tight around his heart, the idea of escaping all the sadness of the past few years was tempting. Perhaps the sea air could wash away some of his pain.

He sat up straight and nodded. “Yes, sir.”