Trysting with a Poisoned Pen (Dashing Rogues and Ruined Librarians #4)

Chapter One

Wolcott House

Hanover Square

As the tea service was delivered, he turned and regarded the man who’d also just come into the room—the Duke of Scarborough.

“Ah, Scarborough. How lovely to see you.”

“You as well, Wolcott. It’s been an age, it seems.” He nodded his thanks to the footman and then fell heavily into a winged-backed chair of light blue brocade.

“I honestly thought you would have left London since parliament has less than a month remaining on this session.” Then he eyed William askance.

“Not that you show up for most of the meetings to begin with.”

“Yes, well, everything on the floor of parliament is quite dull.” He shook his head as he tried to remember what had occurred since January.

Discussions regarding post-war instability, economic hardship—especially that followed the Year Without a Summer—and fear of radicalism ala the Blanketeers and Spa Fields riots took precedence.

Those talks led to intense parliamentary focus on controlling dissent.

Not that it proved to be such an issue, at least not that he’d heard.

Most of the major legislation had been wrapped in the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act which allowed for detention without trial to quell conspiracies.

Did that mean there was more dissention than the riots?

Perhaps, but since William tried his hardest to ignore news of the day when he wasn’t working at the Lords, he would have no idea.

All of it was tedious and frightening if he truly allowed himself to ponder it.

There was also the Seditious Meetings Act, which restricted public gatherings and licensing for debates. That was concerning to him, personally, for with that act, it was a slippery slope into limiting freedoms for everyone, but what could he do when faced with hard opposition?

Some of the year’s other debates were finance and reform.

Government spending was out of control—Prinny apparently didn’t care for a budget—there were talks on sinecures, and the state of representation, which was a long, dull string of days listening to the Finance Committee’s reports.

And they’d followed that with security debates revolving around secret committees to investigate seditious activities and the suspension of liberties.

All of which he objected strenuously to until further investigation could provide positive and solid evidence of such.

He, and a handful of men on his side were summarily ignored, so William stopped going to the meetings and debates.

If no one wished to hear the voice of reason, he wouldn’t give it.

Let them all destroy the government, and hopefully someone else could step in later to fix things.

God help us all.

He heaved out a breath. “To say nothing about the stubborn old men who only want to protect themselves and their wealth. They think to hell with the rest of England. Each time I attend a Lords meeting, I have the urge to speak out against the injustices they’re trying to inflict, but then, they’d call me a dissenter, and I personally don’t wish to cool my heels in prison. ”

“Surely they wouldn’t do that to an earl or anyone with a title.” The duke poured tea into a delicate porcelain cup then sat back in his chair to enjoy it.

“Ha. Prinny’s government, I suspect, is corrupt, and he won’t appreciate being called out on it.

His thirst for attention, for the accolades of sycophants, turns my stomach.

” As he poured his own tea, he wondered which side the duke supported.

Scarborough played that close to his chest as it were, and while that was admirable, it could prove dangerous, but he honestly didn’t think there was much to fear in that quarter.

“This is why I’m more absent than not in the Lords.

I don’t care for the arguing or for being ignored. ”

Or the hopelessness of it all.

“Or being accused of treason.” The duke nodded. “Understandable. What else has been going on in your life lately?”

William shrugged. “Well, I’m throwing my annual Midsummer masquerade ball, except it will be in London instead of Kent.

” In fact, numerous invitations to friends and family had already gone out.

“Perhaps mid-July, I might go on to Kent, if London continues to prove dull.” He cast a glance to his friend.

“What of you? I haven’t been privy to what’s been going on in your life these past months. ”

“I married Catherine a few months ago.”

“Ah, right. I remember hearing something about that.”

From what William recalled, the duke met his now-wife last December while they were both puzzling out a translation on a book of Egyptian prose.

After a period of time, wherein Scarborough managed to come out of his grief for his first wife and once he’d come up for air after no doubt fucking the delectable Catherine into oblivion, they became engaged during that Christmastide season.

The next months were spent planning the small and very private nuptial ceremony that the duke’s grown children both attended. From what he could discern through the gossip mill, Scarborough and his new wife were scandalously happy.

The duke nodded. “Catherine and I are contemplating visiting Egypt, perhaps in the next few months toward the autumn. Perhaps I’ll sponsor a dig.”

One of William’s eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive.

I envy you the travel, but not the wife.

” He took a sip of tea. “Not that Her Grace isn’t a lovely woman.

” Of course, he didn’t know much about her and had only seen her in passing twice.

“I really should call on her soon, since she is the wife of one of my good friends.”

“Ah, but that would require you to take your head out of your arse, Wolcott,” the duke said with a merry grin. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never taken an interest in anyone else.”

“That’s not true. I’ve plenty of interest in beautiful women.”

Scarborough shook his head as he popped a seed cake into his mouth and chewed. “In all honesty, Catherine and I would love to have you over for dinner. In fact, you should give marriage a try, William. You might find that it suits you.”

“Bite your tongue.” He snorted with derision, then finished his tea. “I’ve yet to meet a woman I would let myself be domesticated for.” With a shrug, he refreshed his cup. “There are many other things I enjoy doing with women that don’t include stepping into parson’s mousetrap.”

To be fair, he had given his heart away once, when he’d been a young man, a much stupider man.

He’d been wildly in love with the woman in question.

She had been three years his senior, but that hadn’t mattered to him, for he’d considered her his whole world.

At the time, he hadn’t assumed the title of earl yet, and he wouldn’t for another five years, but he had his father’s courtesy title of viscount and that was nothing to sneeze at.

When he’d taken her for a ride along Rotten Row, he’d been so optimistic, indeed, he was a nodcock of the first order, and when he’d brought her to Hyde Park to propose at his favorite vista of that location, she’d stopped him before they could alight from the curricle.

In a rush, she’d told him she’d only been with him as a way to make someone else jealous, and that said man had finally taken notice and had asked to pay his addresses, which was what she’d wanted all along.

He’d been shocked to his core, and with no shame had begged her to reconsider, for he was better than any other man.

Yes, he’d been cocky and arrogant at the time, but he’d also been wounded.

She’d declined, of course, and then demanded that he take her home, which he’d done.

But from that day on, he’d vowed to keep his heart for himself.

It was far too painful and dangerous to offer it up to a woman again, and since that time, he’d only given himself physically to various women while his heart remained behind a thick wall.

Never again.

When the duke cleared his throat, William flicked his gaze to Scarborough. “Clearly, you’ve had your heart broken in the past.” It wasn’t a question.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’d say it does, since you’re using that incident to avoid marriage or even love.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” It wasn’t something he wished to talk about in this moment.

For the space of a few heartbeats, silence reigned between them. Then, the duke stirred. He leaned forward and rested both the cup and saucer on the low table. “You need to do your duty to your title. You’re not getting any younger, and we all know the misfortune in your family line.”

There was that. “Seven and thirty is not yet old.”

Scarborough snorted. “It’s not exactly young either. And you need to make sure you have an heir to pass down your title.”

“As if being an earl is something special.” He shook his head, for the responsibility was more of a chore than anything else.

It became a stumbling block to carnal endeavors at times, and that was something he was beginning to resent.

“Why should I put that yoke around a son’s neck?

” God, when he remembered the history of misfortune with the men in his family, it was rather intimidating.

“My father expired when he choked on a fishbone. His father left this mortal coil due an infection sustained after he cut his leg on the edge of a shovel. My uncle died from affixation because he was apparently allergic to corn.” And the list went on and on.

Not one man in his family history left the Earth due to heroic reasons like dying in battle.

“I think, perhaps, I’m living on borrowed time. ”

“All the more reason to marry soon.” When William remained quiet, Scarborough chuckled. “Look, Wolcott, none of that necessarily means you’ll be unlucky too.”

“While that is true, it certainly doesn’t bode well, either.”