The Duke’s Swapped Bride

Chapter 1

“Good morning! How are you doing today?”

The only person who could ruin Evan’s good mood was his adoptive brother bursting through the door of his study. Before that, Evan Locke, the Duke of Blackwell, was having an exceptionally good Saturday morning in Blackwell Manor.

He was enjoying his breakfast in his study as sunlight poured through the windows. It was a rare sunny day in London, and he was considering taking advantage of the good weather by going for a walk around the gardens.

Then Peter Swinton burst through his doors and effectively ruined the mood. He had a wide grin on his face, as usual. No matter the time of day, the man was almost always smiling. “I said good morning, Evan!” he said. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it?”

Evan sighed. “Peter, how many times have I told you that you cannot just barge in here? There is a wonderful concept called knocking. Perhaps you should ask one of the servants to teach you since you are still incapable yourself.”

“Charming as ever, aren’t you? And here I was hoping to catch you in a good mood.” Peter sat down in the chair across from the duke’s desk. “Why are you moping in your study, anyway? The Season has not begun yet, so I know you don’t have any matters of Parliament to take care of.”

“I was in here for the peace and quiet, which you have pointedly eliminated.” Evan gestured to the teapot on his desk.

“Help yourself, if you wish.” He could never truly be cross with Peter.

He was one of the few people that Evan truly considered a friend.

Perhaps the only person he considered a friend.

“Tea would be lovely, thanks.” Peter poured himself a cup. Despite the smile on his face, there was a nervous energy about him. He tapped his fingers lightly on his knee as he sipped his tea. Evan knew he was not merely here for a chat.

“Is there any reason in particular that you wanted to catch me in a good mood?” Evan kept his facial expression and voice controlled, but he was already steeling himself for whatever unpleasant business had emerged since he woke up this morning.

“Yes, indeed. It has come to my attention that our dear grandmother has been scheming.”

Evan suddenly felt tired. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did she do now?” Even as he asked the question, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the dowager duchess was scheming about. It was the same issue she wanted to address every year.

Peter gave him an apologetic look. “She made a list of all the eligible ladies of the ton for you to meet. She wants you married by the end of the Season.”

The duke sighed. “Of course she did.” His grandmother had been pestering him for the past three years to get married. She grew more determined every Season.

Peter took another sip of tea. “I did manage to cross out one or two of the names, based on your tastes, but there are at least two dozen ladies on the list.”

Evan glared at him. “You mean to tell me you knew about this and didn’t stop her?”

Peter raised his hands in surrender. “You know how she can be.”

The duke sighed. “Yes, I do.” He ran a hand over his face, already dreading the endless encounters with all the ladies of the ton. He had no plans to marry anytime soon, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to marry at all. But that didn’t stop the dowager duchess.

“She is worried for you. For both of us. She wants us to be settled before she…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. He didn’t need to, however. Evan knew exactly what he was implying.

The two men were so wrapped up in their conversation, they didn’t realize the subject of their discussion had entered the room until she spoke.

“That’s right,” Martha Locke, the Dowager Duchess of Blackwell, broke the silence, causing them both to jump.

She strode into the room, looking as regal as ever, even in a slightly wrinkled morning gown.

“I want to see my great-grandchildren before I die, and clearly, you need a push in that direction if that’s to happen.

” She arched an eyebrow at Evan. “Judging from the look on your face, one would think I was asking you to shoot yourself on the foot with a hunting rifle, instead of asking you to converse with the opposite sex.”

“Good morning, Grandmother,” Evan said blandly. “I trust you slept well.”

“Of course, my dear. But do not think you can distract me from the matter at hand. Need I remind you that you will have no one after I die? Humans are not meant to be alone, even if you are determined to prove otherwise.”

“Excuse me, but the last time I checked, I was a human as well,” Peter said, smiling. “Evan and I will always have each other.”

The dowager duchess turned to face him as her hands went to her hips. “You could do with finding a bride for yourself, Peter. You are not getting any younger, you know.”

Regret and a dash of panic flitted across Peter’s face, and Evan could not help but smile slightly. “She’s right about that,” he said, unable to help himself. “You are only a couple of years younger than me.”

“Yes, but I am not a duke, am I? I am your steward. I don’t even have any noble blood, so what does it matter if I marry?”

Their grandmother scoffed. “Peter, that has never mattered to me for a single day since you arrived at the manor, and you know it. I want great-grandchildren, and if Evan will not deliver, then it will be up to you.”

Peter threw his arms up in the air. “How did my marital status become the subject when we have the Duke of Ice sitting right here?”

Evan snorted and took a sip of his tea. “Is that what the gossip rags are calling me now?”

His brother gave him a wry look. “You must admit it’s a fitting name for you. Your facial expressions are permanently frozen in a scowl.”

The duke shrugged. There were worse insults, to be sure.

Peter smirked at him. “Honestly, your name could have been worse, especially after you ruined one of the most beloved bakers in London. You left half the ton scrambling for another baker who makes pastries half as good as his.”

Evan shrugged. “He gave the scullery maid unwanted advances the last time he made a delivery to the manor. What was I supposed to do? Let him keep his livelihood after that?”

Peter took a sip of his tea. “Of course, there is always the matter of the Baron of Boxton. Well, former baron, I should say. His title and wealth were properly stripped from him by the time you were through with him. The last I heard, the fellow had run off to Ireland. I doubt he will ever show his face in London again.”

Irritation prickled through Evan. “He slapped the stable boy. Perhaps everyone in London should stop hurting my staff. Then I will not ruin so many lives.”

“Of course,” Peter said. “But I doubt your cold reputation will grant you a lot of luck with the ladies.”

“I am not looking for a lady this Season.”

His grandmother turned to him, smiling. “Oh yes, you are. I have already spoken to ten of the most eligible ladies of the ton. You will go on at least one date with each of them until you find one to marry.”

Evan groaned. “Grandmother, I do not have time—”

“You will make time,” she said firmly. “You will not be getting out of this, no matter how much you wish otherwise. We do not know how much time I have left, but I would like to hold my great-grandchild in my arms before I die.”

“You are in good health, Grandmother,” Evan said.

“I am sure you will be pestering me for years to come. I see no point in rushing into an unhappy marriage. Perhaps I will find the time next Season to go on dates with every woman of the ton.” He gave the dowager duchess a placating smile, but the elderly lady was not having it.

“You tell me the same thing every year. But I shall no longer accept that excuse. You will take me seriously this year.” She smiled pleasantly and triumphantly.

“Your first date will be with Miss Penelope Atwood. She is the daughter of the Earl of Northwick, and I have it on good authority that she is a lovely young lady. Peter already invited her for tea.”

Evan glowered at Peter, who shrugged, as if to say, ‘what was I supposed to do?’

Despite his own family conspiring behind his back, Evan could not bring himself to be angry, especially when he knew deep down that this was their way of showing their love. He gave his grandmother an amused smile. “Need I remind you who makes the decisions in this house?”

She beamed, knowing she had won this round. “Of course, Your Grace. How could I forget that my own grandson is the duke? I am merely making… suggestions. Very pointed, strong suggestions.”

Peter laughed. “That is one way to describe them, yes.”

The older lady turned an amused look on him. “Oh, hush, you. Or I will find some young ladies for you to court as well.”

Peter’s mouth snapped shut. Evan could not help but smile at that. “I will go on dates, as you strongly suggest, Grandmother. But I cannot promise anything more than that.”

She smiled and leaned over to pat his arm in reassurance. “Right now, that is all I ask for. I am sure, if you put your mind to it, you will have a good time.”

He grunted. “I highly doubt that.”

The dowager duchess smiled before turning and leaving the room. The moment she was gone, Peter turned to Evan. “It’s only a few dates,” he said. “Why are you so opposed to the idea? It cannot be any more tedious than your other social obligations.”

“It is a waste of time,” Evan said. “I have no need for a wife or a child.”

“Yes, perish the thought that you do something purely to make our grandmother happy.”

Evan glared at him. “You know I want to make Grandmother happy. But this is not a small matter. I have no intention of marrying someone merely to please her.”

Peter leveled him with a look. “I don’t think you have any intention of marrying at all, but you don’t want to admit it out loud because you know it will break her heart.”

The duke didn’t reply because he knew his brother was right. “You know, you could always provide her with great-grandchildren. Perhaps you should announce your intentions of looking for a bride.”

Peter laughed. “I haven’t sworn off marriage, but I do not intend to marry yet. Besides, if I marry, what will become of you when Grandmother dies? You will be the grumpy uncle who scares the children.”

“I will be the uncle buying them the best education they could ever hope for.”

“Ah, yes. So heartwarming,” he said dryly. “I cannot wait to see what they will say at your funeral. Here lies Uncle Evan, the Duke of Blackwell. He scowled constantly and bought us homework for Christmas.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “You loved school. I don’t see why your children would be any different.”

Peter arched an eyebrow and gave his brother a look that he often gave when Evan was being particularly dense. “I loved any place that wasn’t that bloody orphanage.”

“Fair point.” Evan knew very little of his brother’s first six years of life.

Peter claimed not to remember much at all.

As far as he was concerned, his life began at Blackwell Manor when the stableboy found him sleeping in an empty horse stall.

Much to Peter’s surprise, he was brought before the Duke and Duchess of Blackwell, who decided to adopt him as their ward by the end of the day.

Peter stood up. “I shall stop disturbing your peace. Personally, I am glad you are going on dates with some of the young ladies of the ton. Maybe one of them will surprise you.”

Evan didn’t really think so. In his experience, the eligible ladies shared more similarities than differences, and none of them had previously piqued his interest. It wasn’t that he disliked conversing with members of the opposite sex.

He was simply bored by them. To be fair, he didn’t find conversation with most men particularly stimulating, either.

“I highly doubt that.”