Chapter 2
“It is high time that you find a wife,” Colin Barrington informed his cousin bluntly. “And this coming Season is as good a time as any to find a lovely young lady to bear you an heir.”
Michael Egerton, the Earl of Ravenshollow, stopped swirling the brandy in his glass and turned pain-filled hazel eyes toward his cousin.
The two men had agreed to meet at their favorite London gentleman’s club for luncheon and a good snifter of brandy.
Had Michael known that this would be the topic of conversation, he would have declined the invitation.
“My time basking in the light of a beautiful maiden’s love has long passed,” he retorted, his hazel eyes conveying that this particular subject was off limits.
“I have no desire to relive such agony again.” He absently fingered the hard, round circle of a ring hidden in his waistcoat pocket, where it had been since the day his dreams came crashing down around him.
Michael’s mind slipped back to the memory of the day that he had planned to propose to the love of his life. He had been given his grandmother’s ring and had gone into town to greet his love’s family as they returned from their trip to Scotland.
He had planned to ask her father’s permission, then invite the family to dine with Michael and his parents. Upon his arrival, he had stopped by the church to speak with the minister, only to discover a notice had been posted of the banns for the very same woman’s engagement to another man.
Crushed and crestfallen, Michael had sought out the minister for answers, only to discover that the marriage had already taken place. He was too late.
“You are starting to gain a reputation, Cousin. It is being said that you are a ghost of the man you once were.” Colin’s words filtered through the fog of memory, bringing Michael back to the present.
“I cannot say that I disagree with the gossips on this one. You remain in your country estate, spending most of your days painting landscapes. You have not attended a London Season in years. The talk around town is that you have become an eccentric recluse, who forfeits his duties to his tenants in lieu of selfish pursuits.”
Michael’s temper flared inside his chest. He had never shirked his duties a day in his life. “You will not hear such talk from my tenants,” he pointed out, his hazel eyes piercing Colin’s through the fog of pipe and cigar smoke that seemed to permeate every aspect of the room.
“Perhaps not,” Colin conceded, “but it is long past time that you rejoined society.”
“I have no need of society, nor do I care a fig for its gossips,” Michael ground out, barely keeping his anger below the surface.
“Good God, man! Will you allow the spurning of one woman to derail the entire family line? It is your duty as the eldest grandson of our dearly departed grandparents to produce an heir. They may not have been able to produce a son by God’s providence, but they made certain that their daughters married well and had children of their own to pass their much beloved title and estate to.
Will you deprive them of their final wish that you marry and produce so many offspring that our family line might never be placed in jeopardy again? No woman is worth such devotion. To surrender yourself to another man’s wife is foolish and destructive.”
Michael, unable to bear another moment of such unbridled ridicule, stood up and set his glass down hard on the table beside him. “If you are so concerned for our family’s lack of heirs, why do you not wed and produce an army of offspring?”
Colin’s eyes widened at Michael’s burst of anger, but he wisely chose not to argue further on the matter. “To that end, I would value your assistance this Season in choosing a wife,” his tone turning quiet and humble.
Michael’s anger eased seeing the uncertainty in Colin’s eyes, and he sat back down. “I did not realize that you were in the market for a wife.”
Colin nodded slowly. “It has been on my mind of late. I see my parents’ happy marriage, and I find that I long to experience the same.
I have had my time abroad. I enjoyed my grand tour of Europe immensely, but it is time for me to settle and secure my future.
That being said, I do not wish to settle for anything less than a loving union. ”
“I see.” Michael nodded in understanding. He had once felt the same. “Most marriages are business arrangements,” he gently reminded him. “Both of our parents, yours and mine, marrying for love is the rarity, not the norm.”
“I know that well enough, but I am not in need of funds. I am in need of companionship in the truest sense of the word.”
Michael smiled at Colin’s romantic heart. “How do you wish for me to be of assistance?”
“You are an excellent judge of character and reputation among men. Your instincts in business are unparalleled. I would like for you to employ your gifts to my benefit, but for the fairer sex.” Colin’s hazel eyes held his with such earnestness that Michael could not deny him.
“I may be able to judge a man’s character, but women are an entirely different animal altogether,” Michael informed him. “My own experience with the fairer sex has shown me to be inept in the field of love. Are you certain that you wish to trust me with the future of your own heart?”
Colin nodded firmly. “I trust that your experience will be invaluable.”
“As you say.” Sighing, Michael leaned back in his chair, picking up his glass of brandy. He raised his glass in a quiet toast. “To the future bridegroom.”
Colin’s face split into an exuberant grin. “So, you will join me this Season?”
“How can I say no to my favorite cousin?”
Colin laughed. “I am your only cousin,” he pointed out, but raised his glass in reply. “To finding love!” Both men downed their glasses.
“Barrington,” a familiar voice interrupted the cousins’ conversation. Michael and Colin turned to find one of Colin’s school friends approaching. “Ravenshollow, by Jove. It is good to see you out and about, my friend.” The man extended his hand to shake both of the cousins’ hands.
“Richard Everett, Esquire,” Colin arose with a grin and warmly shook his friend’s hand. “Good to see you. Would you care to join us for a snifter of brandy?”
Everett nodded. “I would indeed.” He took a seat between the cousins, and Colin motioned for the club’s butler to bring them another glass. “Have you heard about the most recent gossip?” Everett asked excitably.
Michael stiffened, given the gossip that Colin had just informed him of. “What might that be?” he asked cautiously.
“There has been a rash of art thefts across the country,” Everett informed them.
Michael’s brows rose in question. “Art thefts?”
“Indeed.” Everrett nodded in confirmation. “Some of the most notable pieces in all of England have gone missing from the landed gentry to the most noble houses in the land.” Everett’s gaze fell on Michael’s face. “Say, have you inventoried your own collection of late?”
Michael shook his head. “I have not.”
“I would if I were you, Ravenshollow. Your collection is one of the best I have seen. Such a collection would be a true temptation for a greedy art thief.”
Michael nodded in agreement, concern for his own precious pieces filling his mind, momentarily replacing his previous ire. “I thank you for the warning. I will indeed inventory my collection.”
Everett nodded. “If you discover that anything is missing, the magistrate at Bow Street is mounting an investigation with the aid of his Runners. I recommend that you report anything amiss to him.”
“I will,” Michael agreed. “What more can you tell me of the thefts? Does the magistrate have any notion as to who the thief or thieves might be?”
Everett shook his head. “He believes that the thief is hiding somewhere in London, given that the bulk of the thefts have occurred there, but he is not dismissing other possibilities, as there have been thefts elsewhere throughout the country as well.” The men discussed the matter for a few moments more, then Everett changed the subject to other bits and pieces of news that he had been made privy to around London.
“Have you heard that the Marquess of Worthington’s widow has returned for the Season?
She has not been seen in society since their wedding, remaining secluded in Scotland for all these years since.
She may be more of a recluse than you yourself, Ravenshollow,” Everett chuckled in amusement at his own jest. “It has created quite the stir about town.”
Michael had just been about to take another drink of his brandy when he stopped midway. He went stone still, his heart hammering in his chest. “Widow?”
“Had you not heard?” Everett asked him, surprised.
“Norman Livingston, the Marquess of Worthington, perished in a fire while traveling abroad about six months ago. His younger brother, Harry, has inherited the title and estate as the couple had not yet produced an heir. Once it was evident that the marchioness was not with child, she was returned to the care of her family. She has only just arrived in London from what I was able to gather.”
Michael exchanged a look with Colin. Colin tried to be silently reassuring, but Michael’s heart felt as if it might explode from his chest, it beat with such ferocity.
The woman who had spurned his love was now unwed and back in London.
Anger and pain warred with the tiniest glimmer of hope, a hope that he swiftly snuffed out. She chose money and position over love.
She is not the woman that I once believed her to be.
I will not allow anyone an opportunity to cause me such pain ever again.
It mattered not to him that most of society married for wealth and position.
He had held her to a different standard, and she had shattered his heart.
There would be no rekindling of romance as far as he was concerned.
Never again, his mind whispered in self-preservation.