Chapter 1
Violet stared out the window of the sitting room.
Snow floated from the sky in tiny white ice crystals that were gorgeous, even if they were often a nuisance.
Winter was far from her favorite season, but she supposed the snow was preferable to rain.
At least she could count on the fluffy white flakes from not completely soaking her to the skin.
Still...she much preferred the spring and summer months.
Snow accumulation didn’t allow for easy travel, and she hated being cooped up inside.
“Why are you so melancholy?” Iris asked.
She turned to face her sister and frowned.
Iris was her twin sister, but they were not identical.
The only thing they shared alike was the same shade of golden blonde hair.
Iris had green eyes, and Violet’s were a light blue.
Today her sister wore a sunny yellow day dress that matched her equally cheerful mood.
Violet found it distasteful. Not because her sister didn’t look beautiful or that Iris’s demeanor was as chipper as a sunny summer day.
No, she couldn’t blame her sister for her mood.
Violet woke up with a sour disposition and nothing seemed to soothe her inner growly beast. She didn’t wish to explain herself to Iris, though.
It would be long and drawn out, and Violet was already in a surly mood.
“Do you ever wish for something so far out of your grasp that it makes you feel as everything in life is impossible?”
Iris sighed. “Of course I do.” She stood and walked over to Violet and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m certain we both wish for the same thing too.”
Violet doubted that very much. Maybe at one time they may have, but Violet had different aspirations than she had even a few months prior. “What makes you so certain?”
“Because I know you.” Iris tilted her head to the side and then blew out a breath. “You’ve lost hope, but you shouldn’t.”
Violet shook her head. “I have not lost hope.” She hadn’t.
Because she never had any to begin with.
She couldn’t lose something that she never dared to hold inside her heart.
“I’ve decided that I’d much rather live my life with no expectations.
” Then she’d no longer be disappointed with what she did have.
“But today it is difficult to enjoy my blessings.” She turned away from her sister and glanced outside.
“Especially on such a dreary day.” Though she couldn’t blame the weather for her mood.
Though it provided a convenient excuse.. .
“You are right,” Iris agreed. “On enjoying our life no matter what, and that this weather is dismal.” She glanced outside. “Perhaps if the snow lets up, we can go for a walk. We can visit Francesca.”
“That’s unlikely and you know it.” The weather would not cooperate, no matter how much either of them willed it to.
Besides, we are to visit Francesca tomorrow for tea.
There’s no need to go over today.” Their friend was happily married with a daughter.
In some ways, Violet was envious of that, but she didn’t want to be a duchess.
She wasn’t even certain she wanted to be a wife or mother.
Something was missing from her life, though, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.
“I wish I didn’t agree with you.” Iris’s cheerful demeanor was slipping. “I had hoped wearing something bright today would help me feel better, and for a while it did, but now...” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’m as melancholy as you are.”
“Oh, dear...” She met her sister’s gaze. “You’ve caught my doldrums. I’m terribly sorry.” She hadn’t wanted to inflict her mood on Iris.
“It’s not your fault.” She moved away from Violet and plopped very unladylike onto the settee. “I’ve been thinking about Lord Hampstead.”
Violet had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “That particular earl is not worth any of your time.”
Her sister lifted a brow. “Would you say the same if I told you that about Lord Merrifield?”
“Yes,” Violet said without thinking. “He’s an arrogant rogue who only thinks about himself.” That might not be exactly true. He seemed fond of his friends, and he was mostly polite to everyone else. It was only her he seemed to be rude and temperamental with.
“You say that now,” Iris began. “But I have seen how you look at him. If he paid you any sort of attention, you would like it.”
She snorted. “Oh, he pays attention to me.” Violet paced in front of the window.
“He takes the time to tell me everything I’m doing wrong and orders me around as if he has the right to.
” She clenched her hands into fists. “Sometimes I want to...” She lifted her hands and squeezed the air.
“But that would only cause a scandal and I refuse to give into the urge.”
Iris chuckled. “I suppose that is somewhere to start.”
“Start what?” Violet asked in a startled tone. “You’re not suggesting I actually wrap my hands around his neck and give it a good squeeze.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a good way to further a courtship along.” She shook her head. “But, sister dear, you have his attention. Use it and steer him in the direction you wish to go.” She frowned. “At least the man you’re in love with is paying some attention to you. “
Violet stared at her sister. “I’m not in love with him.”
“Right,” she said, then waived her hand. “Keep telling yourself that.” She took a deep breath. “We should do something to bring everyone together. Francesca isn’t going to her family’s Christmas this year. She doesn’t want to travel with the baby. I’m sure there will be others in London.”
“What do you propose we do?” Violet was still astonished her sister believed she loved the Marquess of Merrifield. “Have a ball?”
“That’s a fabulous idea.” Iris beamed. “I’ll ask father, and then we can start planning it.” She practically bounced out of the room, leaving Violet alone.
What the blazes had she gotten herself into? She hadn’t been serious about suggesting a ball. Too late now to take it back, though. Violet turned back to the window and her dismal thoughts. Even the idea of dancing wasn’t warming the cold that had settled into her. She feared nothing would...
***
Zachariah strolled into his club. Once inside, he shook the snowflakes off his coat and handed it to one of the workers.
He should have stayed home, but he was feeling restless.
With the snow falling down, he couldn’t go far.
Not that he would, but it still limited his options.
“Are the Earl of Hampstead and Viscount Goodland here?” He knew Lindsey or Winchester wouldn’t be.
They were settled at home with their wives and children.
He shuddered at the thought of that domesticity.
The very idea of tying himself to a woman and siring children made him feel ill.
He did not understand how two of his friends could have succumbed to the very idea of marital bliss.
It almost seemed like a misnomer—marriage did not equal bliss.
At least not in his limited experience. Oh, he had never been married before, but he’d bore the brunt of his parent’s deep in his soul.
They had hated each other to their very cores, and he never wanted to live like they had.
He would not marry anyone for any reason.
“Both Lord Hampstead and Lord Goodland are in a private room. They’ve been here for some time.” The man who held Zachariah’s coat told him.
“Wonderful,” Zachariah said, then grinned. “Then they plan on being here for a while.”
“I would believe so,” he answered.
Zachariah nodded and walked away to go in search of his friends.
He planned on getting foxed and forgetting about everything for several hours.
There was only one room his friends could be in.
They preferred the room in the far back of the club so they wouldn’t be disturbed.
The club owners often held it empty for them because they all frequented the club so often.
The five of them, the ton dubbed Scandalous Gentlemen, had been inseparable.
At least until two of them fell in love.
.. Now there were only three left, and Zachariah hoped it stayed that way.
He stopped inside the entrance and leaned against the doorframe.
Goodland was lounging on a leather chair with a decanter of scotch in one hand and a snifter in the other.
“Do you ever wonder why we bother with pouring it out of the decanter?” Goodland asked.
“When we often drink it faster than we can keep it filled.”
Hampstead, who was shuffling cards, answered, “Because we’re supposed to be civilized.”
“But we’re often not,” Zachariah said. “Civilized that is.”
“It’s about time you joined us.” Goodland sat up and held the decanter to him. “Come here and I’ll pour you two fingers.” He lifted a brow. “Unless you want to try your hand at drinking straight from the source.”
“For that I think we would need the barrel it came from,” Hampstead drawled, then snatched the brandy from Goodland. “Sit,” he told Zachariah. “We can play a bit of Faro.” He gestured toward Goodland. “He’s too inebriated for it to be any fun.”
“Is that why you took away his brandy?” Zachariah asked.
“No,” Hampstead replied. “I wanted some before he drank it all.” He poured brandy into two snifters and handed one to Zachariah, then handed the decanter back to Goodland. “I’d never deprive a friend of brandy.”
Zachariah chuckled. His mood lifted a little now that he was with his friends, but he still didn’t feel quite right. He wasn’t certain what would help, but at least he wasn’t completely miserable now. “Are we going to gamble or is this game for fun?”
“Gambling is fun,” Hampstead replied. “It would be boring if we skipped that part.” He dealt the cards, but neither one of them picked them up off the table.
“What are the stakes, then?” Zachariah asked.
“How about whoever wins gets to make the other do something they don’t want to.” There was little either one of them wouldn’t do.
“That sounds like a challenging task either way.” Zachariah grinned.
“I thought it would make things...interesting.” Hampstead lifted his glass and sipped his brandy. “Do you agree?”
“I think we will need an impartial third party.” He glanced at Goodland. “To ensure that whoever loses keeps their word, and that the winner doesn’t take things too far.”
“I’ll be your...whatever you called it,” Goodland replied with a wave of his hand. “You might need to remind me when I am sober.”
“Then we’re all agreed?” Hampstead said.
“Yes, we are,” Zachariah told him, then picked up his cards.
They played for a while. A servant came in and replaced their empty brandy decanter two times, and by the morning, after hours of play, all three of them were quite drunk.
“There,” Hampstead said, as he laid his card on the table. “I win.”
Zachariah cursed under his breath. He had lost. There was no arguing the results. “Yes,” he agreed, then leaned back in his chair. “The question is: what is it you wish me to do?”
Hampstead grinned. “Nothing too tedious.”
That didn’t sound good at all. “Then why do I believe otherwise?” He lifted a brow.
“Because you’re a suspicious person.” Hampstead finished the brandy in his glass.
“I have had plenty of reasons to be.” His parents hadn’t left a good impression on him as a child and it spilled heavily into adulthood. “So, tell me.”
Hampstead sighed. “Fine. I’ve had most of the night to consider what I would ask of you.” He lifted the empty decanter and stared at it, then set it down. “I don’t need anything from you, but you do need to do something for yourself and you never will unless someone makes you.”
Zachariah had a terrible feeling settling inside his gut. He had made an error and he could not back out of it. This was a debt of honor, after all. “What,” he nearly growled the word out.
“I want you to,” he paused. “Not court a woman. That’s asking too much, but.
.. become acquainted with one. Talk to them and learn something personal about them.
Their likes, needs, wishes...outside of a bedroom.
I don’t mean a courtesan or actress, but a proper lady.
One that any of us could be seen with in public.
” Merrifield folded his hands together. “And Goodland and I will choose the lady for you.”
Zachariah cursed. “How long do I have to complete this task?”
“By the end of Christmastide,” he answered. “We shall choose the lucky lady for this endeavor sometime later today.” He winked. “We’ll need to rest a bit first, but we wouldn’t want to keep you waiting for long.”
“All right.” He wanted to punch something, but he refrained.
Lucky lady indeed… Zachariah didn’t believe this unknown paragon would feel fortunate, but perhaps he was wrong.
She might think he intended to court her and if so that would be disastrous.
“If you’ll pardon me. I think it is past time I returned home.
” Without another word, he stood and turned away from his two friends.
The night had been pleasant until his friend stabbed him straight in the heart.
This was a betrayal he would not soon forget, and he’d ensure that, in some fashion, Hampstead would pay for making him do this.
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