Chapter One
Club Damnation
Mayfair, London
Evan Harcourt Richard Hubley—or rather Captain Buckthorne to his close contemporaries due to him taking his mother’s maiden name for the moniker—entered Club Damnation with trepidation sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach. How long had it been since he’d last been here?
Would his friends even remember him since he’d been away for far too many years?
There was no way to tell, and hell, he didn’t recognize any of the men he saw in the large common room.
The low buzz of conversation was familiar and comforting, as was the soft clink of crystal.
Just as he selected a comfortable-looking leather chair, he caught sight of someone he’d known years ago—the Duke of St. Eggleton.
Shit, but the man had aged! Almost completely gray, lines framed his mouth and eyes, yet his gaze, when it met Evan’s, seemed kind and calm. What had occurred in the years since he had been away from the club.
“Buckthorne?” Shock registered in the other man’s expression. He changed course and headed toward Evan’s location. Though the duke had age, Evan supposed they all had, and in some of those ways, it was hidden. “Never did I think I’d see you standing in my club again.”
“I sent over a letter yesterday telling you I’d returned to England.”
“So you did, and I’m as curious now as I was yesterday about that.” He stuck out a hand, and Evan shook it. “Come with me to a private room so we might talk. Do you still drink brandy?” he asked as he led the way to a smaller, well-appointed room off the main space.
“I do, but I vastly prefer whiskey, or rum if it’s from the islands.”
“When is it not?” Eggleton chuckled then showed Evan into one of the rooms. “Make yourself comfortable. I think I see Foxcroft wandering about. Let me just fetch him and then we’ll all settle in for a conversation, drinking, and perhaps cigars.”
With a tired sigh, Evan dropped into a comfortable, leather, winged-back chair that hosted soft upholstery and enough cushion that his arse wouldn’t go numb.
The second a footman came by with a cut-crystal glass of whiskey on a silver salver, he gratefully took it.
There was something to be said for wealth, elegance, and privilege.
All of which Eggleton had and used to found this club.
As Evan sipped the drink, wincing at the burn in his throat, he reflected on how he came to be here tonight.
He’d been away from England since the age of two and twenty.
For all intents and purposes, he’d gone into the Navy through legitimate channels; his father had refused to buy his commission, so he’d done it himself in his father’s name.
It was Evan’s plan to do the stint, make a bit of coin, see some of the world, and then come home.
However, events brought on by the war had kept him pressed into service, and his skills were sorely needed on various vessels.
Alongside that, a series of odd and troubling events had also kept him away from England, but he suspected those had nothing to do with the war or issues from the Navy.
When Eggleton returned to the room, Evan lifted his glass in silent salute. “You have expensive taste in liquor, my friend.”
“I enjoy entertaining my friends with the best, even in these trying times.” When he took a nearby, matching chair, he nodded at the footman, who brought over a snifter of brandy.
“It’s been an age, Buckthorne. You look quite different since the last time I saw you. How have you been keeping yourself?”
“Well enough. My ship is in the West Docks for repairs that will take at least six months, so I’m in London for a spell.” He blew out a breath. “I feel as if I barely know myself these days, and perhaps I don’t, for there is another reason I’m back in England.”
One of Eggleton’s eyebrows rose in question. “And?”
“As soon as I pulled into port two days ago, I was sent a missive from my father’s solicitor. Apparently, I am the new Duke of Bettington, since my father recently left this mortal coil.”
Shock lay etched over his friend’s face. “I knew that Bettington had died. A few months ago, at that, but you are his heir?”
“Yes, it’s true.” When he flashed a grin, he realized he very rarely did that these days.
“Since my commission in the Navy ended—well it ended a while ago and I’ve been a privateer for the Crown these past few years—I came into port in Gibraltar to offload supplies.
That what where I was met with an emissary of the duke’s, his man-of-affairs or some such, telling me that I was Bettington’s true heir.
I didn’t believe it, but when I came into London and Father’s solicitor was there, I had no choice. ”
Eggleton took a sip of his brandy. “How is that possible? Everyone in the beau monde believes the Earl of Sunderingham is his heir. He’s certainly fashioned himself as such.”
Fucking James.
Quick, hot anger filled his chest, and that was familiar also.
He let it burn as he concentrated on his friend.
“The earl is my half-brother. That should have been my courtesy title from Father, but he either stole it or convinced the duke to bestow it on him instead.” Resisting the urge to utter a string of curses, Evan continued.
“James is my junior by a year; Father remarried quite quickly after my mother died at my birth.” That still brought him pain, but since he was never given the opportunity to know or even meet his mother, that grief was minimal.
“I had suspicions he was passing himself off as the heir in my absence, however.”
“Ah.” Eggleton nodded. “Sunderingham said that you’d gone down with a ship in a storm several years ago, and since no one ever found a body…”
“Bloody hell, what a blackguard.” Evan shook his head.
“Yes, there was a storm, but I survived. The ship ran aground in a string of islands, and it took a bit to regain the sea. Everyone assumed I was dead, and he was next in line.” The wave of anger grew more intense within his chest. “Needless to say, there have been far too many coincidental happenings while I was away for me to think it was merely fate preventing me from coming home.”
Shock reflected in the other man’s eyes. “You suspect he’s tried to have you killed?”
“I do, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve come home.”
Given the chance, he would have continued to captain his ship and sail the world, for there was nothing like the sea and the freedom found within, but he’d always known that he was destined to be a duke, and perhaps he could make a better showing at it than his father.
The challenge ahead to do something good with the title instead of squander it made him if not excited then intrigued.
When Eggleton rested a gaze of expectation on him, Evan huffed out a breath but continued his tale. “Beyond that, I believe my half-brother isn’t doing this of his own accord. I suspect my stepmother has ambitions for him as well as herself.”
God, what a coil.
From what he’d been told, his father had created quite the scandal by marrying James’ mother inside a year of losing his first wife—Evan’s mother.
Of course, he and James had been raised together, and because their father wasn’t that good of a man, they were played off each other, almost as if the duke had wanted a competition in everything as a way of entertainment for him.
They’d both been sent to Eton as boys, but when Evan decided to go to Cambridge thinking he’d eventually go into law, James had opted for Oxford, but the competitiveness hadn’t ceased.
After that, Evan had had enough of such a life.
That was when he’d gone into the Navy against his father’s wishes, citing him being the heir.
At the time, Evan hadn’t cared; he’d merely wished to be away from a less-than-ideal home life.
He’d taken leave four years later for a half year, but could never find common ground with either his brother, his stepmother, or his father.
Nothing had changed, except James sported the earl’s title while the only title bestowed upon Evan had been that of captain, and he rather thought that was more valuable.
When he sailed out again once repairs on his ship were complete, he assumed he would never come back to England, for he loved the sea too much and his family not at all.
Except… Evan’s father had fucking died, throwing his life into a viper’s pit of intrigue and danger that needed navigating.
And surviving.
“God, I had no idea,” Eggleton said then he drained his brandy glass.
“Neither did I, until little accidents or ‘acts of fate’ started becoming more numerous.”
Nothing else was said, for the Duke of Foxcroft joined them.
“As I live and breathe. Buckthorne, our prodigal son, has returned to Club Damnation.”
He glanced up at the man who he didn’t know well let alone remember.
Broad of chest, chiseled facial features that trended toward Roman, a head of thick, black hair that curled at his collar, and dark brown eyes that women no doubt fell all over themselves to peer into, the man was everything Evan had always wished he was.
At least several years ago. Now, he was content in who—and what—he was.
He extended his hand, and the duke shook it.
“Foxcroft?” When the other man nodded, Evan tossed back the remainder of his drink, wincing as he swallowed.
“If I recall correctly, we were both new members of the club shortly before I shipped out the second time. We haven’t truly gotten to know each other yet. ”
“No time like the present.” With a groan, Foxcroft dropped into a chair nearby. “It’s a damned dismal night.”
“That it is,” Eggleton said with a nod. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sebastian. The last we spoke, you said you were preparing to leave London for your country estate, as well as propose to the lovely Lady Mallory.”