To Woo a Dark Duke (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #6)

Prologue

Hyde Park

Mayfair, England

Well, truth to tell, Bartholomew was his five-year-old son from a mistress who’d died and left him with Wallace, but his wife had more or less accepted the child into their household and family after months of venting her ire.

Things had been going well for a couple of months, and he hoped it would stay that way.

“Papa, why do the boats not sink into the water?”

The sound of his son’s voice brought Wallace out of his thoughts. He looked at Bartholomew and smiled. “The boats are built for buoyancy. As for ours, we’ve painted the bottoms with tar, so the water won’t get inside and sink them.”

He’d been teaching Bartholomew how to sail toy boats on the narrow portion of the Serpentine even though the papers had dubbed 1816 as the year with a summer, and England was only four months into it.

Depressing thought, that, but he still had a son to entertain, and there was only so much fun to be had while confined to the house due to the weather.

“Just look how grand they sail on the water,” the boy continued with a bit of awe threading through his voice. “Someday, I hope to have a whole fleet!”

“Perhaps you might, if the weather continues as it has.” As he clasped his hands behind his back, Wallace turned to regard his wife, who sat on an old quilt that had been spread out on the ground. “Enjoying your afternoon, sweeting?”

The skirting of her raspberry-hued dress provided a lovely contrast and a splash of color to the otherwise gray day.

Abigail nodded. “I am. It is good for the lungs to breathe in the fresh air instead of the stagnant.” She held a book in her hand.

“I like listening to you and Bartholomew. And even though it is gloomy, there is still birdsong.”

“Indeed.” His chest tightened, for she was the very image of an angel perched there with her blonde hair upswept. Strands of silver glimmered there with the blonde, but it was the fondness in her blue eyes that held him captive. “Is it a good book, then?”

“Quite.” There was a black umbrella lying close at hand, for it would undoubtedly rain again before they were through with the outing.

“However, merely being outside is distracting me.” With a shiver, she pulled her ivory spencer more tightly about her torso.

“Perhaps we should all go on a walk to further enjoy the day.”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He cast a glance to his son. “Bartholomew , would you care for a walk me Mama and me?”

“Just a few more moments here, please?” The child kneeled and gave a push to one of the toy boats. “I like to watch them. What if one of the ducks comes after the boats?

“They can try to sink the boats, but they won’t succeed.” A chuckle escaped him, for the boy was beginning to prove obsessed with the boats. “A few more moments, then we’ll get on with the walk. Have to make the best of the break in the rain.”

As he spoke, he drifted over to the quilt then dropped down to sit beside his wife. The day was chilly but not overly so. If the fat, gray clouds would stop scudding overhead, there might be a glimpse of sunshine, and that would be most welcome.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Wallace,” she asked as she closed the book with a soft snap.

“Very much so.”

It had been an idyllic couple of months since the Duke of Thornton had reunited with his wife and Ravenhurst had become a father.

During those days, Wallace spent the bulk of his time at home with Abigail and Bartholomew.

They passed cozy days in the drawing room playing games or reading, either aloud to the child or silently to themselves.

And when Bartholomew was busy with his governess, Wallace locked himself into his rooms with his wife doing wicked and unspeakable things together.

Then there were the evenings when he had to fulfil his duties with parliament, but Abigial’s welcome was more than worth it.

If one didn’t count the days, weeks, months, of relentless clouds, rain, and sometimes even snow.

But there were always gray skies, even more so now than usual.

Frankly, there was nowhere to escape it, for all the world had been affected by some damned volcano on a wretched, tucked away island in some tropical location that no one had heard of let alone cared about.

Or that was the supposition from a few men who called themselves experts at weather patterns.

When would it end? No one could say, but things were going from bad to worse.

The low temperatures and heavy rains resulted in failed harvests in Britain as well as Ireland.

Famine was prevalent in north and southwest Ireland, following the failure of wheat, oat, and potato crops.

That was bad enough, but food prices rose sharply throughout England and the Continent.

Hungry people were beginning to demonstrate in front of grain markets and bakeries.

There were rumors that food riots were taking place in many cities on the Continent.

There was talk these riots were the most violent gatherings seen since the French Revolution.

Yet it seemed that Prinny and his corrupt government could care a jot less about England’s people.

As long as he had food and enough wine to entertain his cronies, he assumed that life went on as usual.

And he copiously ignored every warning that came from the floor of the House of Lords and even the Commons.

That frustrated Wallace and many others, but there was naught they could do about it.

The warnings they gave that sickness and diseases could follow the anticipated famines fell on deaf ears.

As more people were affected by the ravages of the weather, he feared that things would grow worse before they became better.

God, I hope England survives.

As a result, his own household was making changes to the stores of root vegetables and fruits while they could.

They were limiting the use of flour and sugar as well as tea so supplies could survive for months if needed.

How was he to continue paying for his servants at the London townhouse as well as his other holdings if the crops weren’t planted this year or worse, failed, Wallace had no idea, but he knew they would somehow survive.

“Am I sailing them right, Papa?”

The sound of Bartholomew’s voice wrenched him from his tortured thoughts.

With a glance over his shoulder, Wallace nodded while the boy towed one of the boats along the shore with its attached string.

“Exactly that. You’ve got the knack of it.

” His son was adorable in his little coat to keep off the rain and the chill.

With his slouch style cap pulled low on his forehead, he was every inch the image of a proper little man.

“The wind fills its sails and guides it across the water.”

From his side, Abigial chuckled. “He is so proud of those boats.”

“That he is. And rightfully so.”

“Papa,” the boy continued. “I’d like to be a sailor someday. Imagine being on a real ship and the big ocean.”

He nodded. “Perhaps you can be. The royal navy needs brave lads like you.” At least he’d be a touch safer there than in the damned military.

“Oh, my dears.” Abigail looked at them both. “That’s not for a very long time. Until then, you’ll be with us in our little family and we’ll try to be happy.” When she rested her gaze on the child, longing mixed with fondness in her eyes.

“But we are already happy, Mama,” Bartholomew said with earnestness. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes, I suppose we are,” she agreed.

Wallace’s heart squeezed. “We are that.” He peered at his wife, the woman he loved with everything in his being, and he grinned.

It had been a very good two months indeed between them, and they were finally falling into a comfortable rhythm, a pattern.

“I rather like what we’re building between us all. ”

She nodded. “So do I.”

Apparently, the boy was content with that answer. He continued to pull the string on one of the boats while the other bobbed on the water, coming closer to the bank.

Since his son was otherwise occupied, Wallace moved closer to his wife. “I suppose our planned trip to spend the summer in Rome must be postponed.”

Brief sadness flickered through her expression. “It seems so, but it gives us something to look forward to. Perhaps at Christmastide, hmm?”

“Oh?” His eyebrows went upward in surprise. “Interesting proposition.”

“Will I like Rome?” The boy wanted to know as he rested his gaze on Wallace. He had the hearing of a bat.

“I hope so,” Wallace said with a grin. “It is warm there, or supposed to be. Though, to be fair, it will probably be raining and cool like it is everywhere in the world just now.”

A shrug lifted the boy’s thin shoulders. “Can I sail boats?”

“Of course. There are loads of waterways in Rome.” He returned his gaze to his wife. “And it’s one of the most romantic cities in the world.”

Abigail’s eyes darkened slightly. “I’m counting on it, Eggleton. Romance is a rather lovely thing when done correctly.”

Awareness went over his skin. He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and then kissed the back. “I will do everything in my power to make the trip happen. Perhaps it shall be our Christmas gift to each other.”

“I know you will.” She drifted the fingertips of her other hand along the side of his face. “You are quite intelligent and resourceful when you wish it.”

“Perhaps I am.” Easily, he tugged her closer to him. “Are you serious in your intent for us to travel to Rome? I’ll write the necessary inquiries if so.”

“I am.” She nodded and there was nothing but honesty in her expression.

“As much as I adore our life here, it would be lovely to have a change of scenery, to show Bartholomew something different that will help with his education.” When she patted his cheek, he wanted nothing more than to carry her away and do delicious things to her.

“But first, make certain your club is in order. I refuse to go away while you worry over the fate of your best members. Clean it up if you must and put someone you trust in charge while you’re gone from England. ”

An interesting proposal. “Why do you care about the fate of the club?”

“Because you care about those men.” Her gaze bore into his. “You always have. It was one of things that attracted me to you in the beginning. You were as lost as they were at one time—”

“Or a few if we’re honest.”

“True, and they deserve to find happiness in whatever way they can. I worry about you when you worry about them, and with Galahad trampling over the unspoken line back in February with Thornton’s wife?

” Abigail shook her head. “I don’t like that.

It means those men are growing too bold and unchecked. If that is how things start going…”

“It won’t. That I can promise you.” He leaned toward her and brushed his lips over hers.

“I have it on my schedule to give Galahad a reprimand. If he can’t abide by the rules I’ve set down as by-laws for the club, I’ll revoke his membership and we’ll give him the cut direct.

He’ll be on his own, and whatever laws he breaks, whatever lines he crosses, he’ll do so at his own peril.

He’ll have no help from us.” It might sound harsh, but there was nothing for it.

What happened between him and Thornton last February could have ended in disaster.

“I’m glad you’re taking this matter in hand.” She nodded. “You’re a good man, Wallace. I hope the others follow your example.”

“As do I. As much as broken men can, I suppose.” He’d had years of bringing such men into his club, as a family, in the hopes he could rehabilitate them, urge them to find happiness in their lives where his had been a bit warped.

Amusement danced in her eyes. “You were broken once too, remember. But broken doesn’t mean bad or unredeemable. It doesn’t even mean undesirable. There are woman in the world who adore a man with a morally gray soul.”

“Indeed, you’re right.” How much did he love her? “Some of the men at the club have changed in increments. It’s a start.”

Bartholomew chose that moment to wander over to the quilt with both boats in his hands. “I’m going to be a sailor and a good man like Papa.”

Abigail smiled at him. “That will be a fine life indeed, poppet. I know you will make us both proud.”

The boy beamed. He bounced his gaze between them. “Will we walk now?”

“Of course.” With a groan, Wallace heaved to his feet then he offered a hand to Abigail and assisted her into a standing position. “Let us put the rest of this stuff into the basket then we’ll be off.”

But as lovely as this afternoon was, his thoughts remained with his club members.