by Dawn Brower
None of it had made the duke happy, but then nothing could. He liked having control over his family, and losing it had made him cut them out of his life. That was until his father died and he saw a way to wiggle his way back in. Now, Jonas was his ward until he gained full access to his inheritance. It was not a huge sum, but it would be enough for him to break free.
“May I be excused?” The duke hit Jonas’s mouth with his fist before he was fully prepared for its impact. Jonas jerked backward involuntarily, but then gained control as quick as possible. He lifted his gaze and stared the duke in the eye, repeating his request, “May I be excused now?” Leaving without permission would prolong the torture, and he didn’t want another punch to the face, or anywhere else.
The duke nodded, and Jonas left as fast as his feet would carry him. He didn’t run as he wanted to because he would not give in to the duke’s bullying. If he darted out of the room, his grandfather would find a reason to make him stay. Instead, he walked briskly and steadily until he reached his chambers. Only then, once the door was closed and he had privacy, did he give in to the emotions raging through him. The tears he’d held in finally flowed freely, and he grieved for his father.
London, 1812
Jonas picked up the glass of brandy on the table and took a drink. He set it back down and stared at the cards in his hand. So far, luck hadn’t been on his side, and he was steadily losing what funds he had. He should have given up a long time ago but stupidly thought he’d win if he kept playing. Freedom had led him astray when it should have brought him happiness. He learned fast that the latter was an elusive emotion not meant for him.
“I think it’s time to call it a night,” announced Jason Thompson, Earl of Asthey. He ran his fingers through his dark blond hair and grinned like a cat that’d caught the prize mouse. “It’s been a productive night.”
At least it was going well for one of them. “I’m ready too.” He threw his cards on the table. “I’ve lost too much as it is.” And he had very little he could afford to lose. His grandfather still held onto most of the purse strings. Somehow, the duke had found a way to gain control over a large part of his inheritance. Jonas had won his independence a year ago, but he wasn’t truly free. The one thing he had left that the duke couldn’t touch was a tiny sum his maternal grandmother had left him. It barely gave him enough to live on. He needed to figure out how to raise his income, but he was at a loss on how.
“That’s a shame,” Asthey said. “Winning big would solve a lot of your woes.”
Jonas rolled his eyes. “I need more than I’d win in a few hands of cards to solve all that.” It might help if his grandfather decided to roll over and die, but no, that wouldn’t happen. The old man was too bullheaded to do anything as congenial as save the world from his type of meanness. “Where is Shelby?” Gregory Cain, the Earl of Shelby, was the other member of their trio. Jonas scanned the room for Shelby’s midnight locks. They were his trademark. No one else had hair quite as sinfully dark as his. His friend was nowhere to be seen in the gaming hell.
“He found a light-skirt to his liking and appropriated a room for a bit of sport.”
Of course he did… Shelby was quite the rake, and relished in ravishing any willing female in his vicinity. “Should we wait?”
“He knows his way home,” Asthey replied. “I rather not wait on him to finish. He might take all night, or he could come out in an hour. It’s hard to say with him.”
“You’re right,” Jonas agreed. He stood and pulled on his jacket and buttoned it over his waistcoat. “I’m tired and would rather sleep in my own bed.”
They both headed to the front door and exited the gaming hell. It was still quite dark, and for once it was a rather clear night in London. The rain had been dreadful for days. The streets were filled with puddles and mud. They walked in silence for a few moments as they headed for a nearby hackney. As they stepped onto the road to cross over to the carriage, Jonas was yanked backward. He fell to the ground, his head smacking against the hard surface.
“Bloody hell,” he said with a groan. “Why’d you do that?”
“I have a message for you.” A big, burly man loomed over Jonas.
Jonas lifted a brow. “You might want to work on your delivery. I won’t be recommending your service to anyone.”
“Don’t need it,” the burly man replied. Jonas couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but felt the sting of a fist hitting his jaw. “The message isn’t the verbal kind.”
Jonas was poised to throw another punch, but was jerked backward before he could land it. The man hit the ground in much the same manner as Jonas had. Served the bastard right… Jonas leapt to his feet before the other man could get up. He rubbed his hand over his sore jaw. “Took you long enough.” He turned to whom he’d thought was Asthey, but was shocked to find Lord Coventry instead.
“Where’s Asthey?”
“There.” Coventry pointed in the distance. He was battling a ruffian of his own. He landed a solid blow, and the man fell to the ground. “What is going on?”
“Unfortunately, this is the work of your grandfather,” he replied. A hint of sadness echoed through his voice. “I heard a rumor and came to investigate the veracity of it.”
“And?” Jonas didn’t like where this conversation was going. His grandfather could do a lot of damage if he wanted to, and it appeared as if he’d decided to employ his power. He had to have all the information Coventry possessed so he could form a plan of his own. His grandfather’s contacts were extensive and his reach even farther. In order to beat him at his own game Jonas might have to fight dirty.
“I’m afraid it was correct by the looks of things,” Coventry answered.
Asthey joined them, shaking his hand in the air as he walked. “That hurts more than I want to admit. I might need to learn a thing or two about throwing a proper punch.”
Coventry nodded. “I might be able to help you both.” He turned to Asthey. “Go inside and fetch your friend, Shelby. I have a proposition for you all.”
Asthey didn’t question Coventry’s order. He nodded and headed back into the gaming hell. Jonas watched him until he disappeared inside, and then turned back to Coventry. “What do you know?”
“Far more than you do,” he replied cryptically. “The duke has plans for you, and he’s not happy with your reluctance to follow them.”
“That’s something I know far too well.” He wished the old man would leave him alone already. “Was this his way of forcing me to go to Southington?”
“I’m not entirely sure what he hoped to accomplish tonight,” Coventry admitted. “I know he arranged it, and I’m here to help if you’ll allow it.”
Jonas was so tired of constantly fighting with his grandfather. There had to be a way to stop him from coming after him again and again. “What do you have in mind?”
Asthey and Shelby came out of the gaming hell and joined them. Shelby carried his cravat in his hand and was straightening his jacket. “This better be important,” Shelby muttered. “The chit was…”
“We don’t need to know,” Asthey said, interrupting him.
Coventry smiled. “I believe you boys will fit right in.”
“I don’t follow,” Jonas said, then frowned. “Fit in where?”
“A very special club,” he replied. “Come along. I’ll explain everything and how it’ll help you with Southington, your social life, and even financially, if you like.”
He didn’t understand how a club could do all that, but he was willing to hear Coventry out. He had saved him from being beaten, and as long as Jonas had his two friends with him, he didn’t see the harm. They could decide together if it was something worth doing. They’d stuck together this long.
They followed Coventry to a nearby carriage and climbed inside. It rolled across the cobbled street with ease. The interior was plush, and the seats rather comfortable. Jonas had never ridden in a carriage so fine. After a short drive, the carriage stopped. They
all got outside to find an elegant townhouse with a W emblazoned near the door. Where were they? What had Coventry said earlier? Something about a club.
“Where are we?” Asthey asked vocalizing Jonas’s thoughts.
“Doesn’t look like much,” Shelby replied. “Why’d I leave that lovely lass again?
Coventry pulled a key out of his pocket that had the same W on the top of it. He pushed it into the lock and opened the door.” “Gentleman, please come inside.” He led them from the foyer into the main part of the house.
The outside expertly disguised the decadence found inside. Rich velvet draped the windows. The settees, chaise lounge, and every chair in the place had similar color scheme of dark red and burnished brown. To the side was a long cherry banister that wound around an elaborate staircase. To the side was a large room with a blazing fireplace. Several men sat at one of the tables as they played cards. Each one had a beautiful, scantily clad woman on their lap. Jonas’s mouth fell open at everything he saw, and he couldn’t believe he didn’t know the place existed. He turned to Coventry and said, “You have our attention. Want to explain this to us now?” He continued to stare at the luxuriousness of his surroundings.
Coventry smiled. “Welcome to the club. You have been nominated for admission—if you want to join. There are rules, of course,” Coventry told them. “Nothing too extreme, but you should all find them reasonable. Keep the club a secret, and you forfeit your membership once you marry—only the leader of the group is allowed to have a wife and retain his membership. If you’re wondering who that is—I am the currently in charge of the club and its members.” He glanced at each one of them and asked, “Do you wish to be a part of all this?” He held his arms out wide.
They all nodded immediately. Jonas didn’t give it much thought, and figured the other two hadn’t either. The sheer excess of the place had won them over. The rest he could figure out later.
It was a decision he never regretted…
Chapter 1
London, 1823
Dark gray clouds floated in the sky above, threatening to unleash rain upon everyone who dared to walk the streets of London. Lady Marian Lindsay stared up at them as she chewed her bottom lip. It was not a good sign, and she hoped the bad omen didn’t lead to a disastrous meeting with Sir Anthony Davis. Not that rain wasn’t commonplace in England—because it most certainly graced the country with regularity; however, Marian’s luck never held when it deigned to fall from the sky. So her meeting with Sir Anthony would surely be doomed.
Nonetheless, she fully intended to go through with it. She had plans, and Sir Anthony stood in the way of them. Without his permission, she’d never become a part of the Royal Medical Society. They had this misbegotten notion medicine and women didn’t mix. She hoped to change his mind and have him recommend her for admission.
She’d been studying medicine and herbs her entire life. All right, maybe not that long, but it felt like it. Her interest started almost a decade ago after her aunt and uncle’s death. They’d both been in a terrible carriage accident near her family estate. Her father was the Earl of Coventry. Her uncle, the Earl of Frossly, married her Aunt Belinda and became a part of the family. After their death, Marian’s mother had been desperate with grief and the loss of her beloved younger sister.
Everything in Marian’s life changed after that. Her two cousins came to live with them, and her mother became sick following their arrival—leaving her launch into society, as well as her cousin’s, forgotten. Not that she had minded especially once her mother succumbed to her illness and they lost her forever. Her grief had been too great, and she’d decided she wanted more in life. Marian didn’t want to marry and have children. She had much loftier goals—like becoming an actual physician and making a living helping people.
Which brought her back to Sir Anthony—he had to let her into the society. This was the next step to gaining the knowledge she needed to become a doctor. She glanced up at the sky once more.
“Please hold off until I’m done,” she begged. “I need a little bit of time.” She quickened her pace until she reached Sir Anthony’s building and pushed the door open. Marian entered as the rain started to fall. It pounded against the street, creating puddles almost instantly. She shut the door and blew out a relieved breath.
Someone cleared their throat. She turned and found two men standing inside, staring at her with a modicum of surprise etched on their faces. The older gentleman must have been Sir Anthony. He had dark hair streaked with gray. The other gentleman was rather handsome—dashing even. He had dark hair and devilish blue eyes. Much to her chagrin, she’d always found him enticing, and not because he was the most gorgeous male she’d ever seen. There was something about him that made the heart inside her chest beat heavily. Marian’s whole body hummed with some unnamable energy. Jonas Parker, the esteemable Earl of Harrington, would always put her at a disadvantage, and sometimes she believed he knew it too. Damn him. “Hello, my lord,” Marian greeted him and then turned to the older man. “Sir Anthony.” She hoped her presumption was correct and he was the man she thought, or wouldn’t that be embarrassing...
“Lady Marian,” Lord Harrington said in a slow drawl. “Does your father know you’re in this part of town?”
Drat. Of course that would be the first thing he’d ask—at least he hadn’t corrected her about Sir Anthony. “My father is well aware of my activities.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. He did know she hoped to be a doctor and humored her. He didn’t really believe she’d succeed, but she planned on proving him wrong. Men had all the advantages in society and women were given little say in their lives. Something she hated to the depths of her soul. “You needn’t worry about me.”
“What may we assist you with?” Sir Anthony asked. “Did the rain drive you inside?”
Lord Harrington lifted a brow. “I don’t think that’s it at all.” He kept his gaze on Marian, unnerving her. He saw too much, and she rather disliked the scrutiny. “You’re here because of your little project, aren’t you?”
Anyone acquainted with her father, and therefore her, was aware of her desire to be a doctor. Her father boasted of her hobby even though he doubted her. It was his way of giving her his support. Not that it was a lot or even a stamp of approval, but it had managed to aid her in her quest thus far. “What if I am?” She jutted out her chin. “You aim to prevent me from taking the next step?”
He held out his hands in front of him. “Far be it from me to step in front of a bluestocking on a mission. By all means, say your piece and see if Sir Anthony is willing to assist you.”
Sir Anthony glanced back and forth between them, but Marian barely noticed. She was irritated more than she should be. Lord Harrington was being nice by allowing her to speak—a sardonic, arrogant, and presumptuous…man. Rolling her eyes would not help her convince Sir Anthony she should be a part of the Royal Medical Society. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Calling him names inside her head would not further her goals. She had to pull herself together and try to present herself in the best light to Sir Anthony.
“You require something from me?” Anthony asked as he gave her his full attention. “What is it?”
“Well,” she started. This was much harder than she thought it would be. “I have a request I hope you’ll agree to.”
“Oh?”
That was it. Nothing else from him or any encouragement for her to go on. Lord Harrington, the rogue, leaned against a nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest. He had a wicked grin on his too handsome face. If Marian wasn’t a lady, she’d do something to wipe that knowing smile away. Someone should put him in his place, and maybe then he wouldn’t be so condescending.
“I’ve been studying for a while to be a physician…”
“You have?” Sir Anthony scrunched his eyebrows together. “Your father knows you’re doing this?”
“Well, yes,” she said. “I did mention he was aware of my activities…”
“S
he’s a bluestocking,” Lord Harrington added. “You know how they are when they get an idea in their head. It’s why I didn’t stop her when she came in, if you’ll recall.”
Marian gave in and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help herself any longer. Why did she have to be attracted to him? He drove her mad in more ways than she could count, yet he was the one man her body became alive near. She hated him for it. “Thank you, my lord.” She pasted a cheerful smile on her face. “You give glowing recommendations.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he replied with that sinful voice of his. It sent shivers down her spine. “As you can see, Sir Anthony is quite scandalized with your chosen hobby. He’s gone mute with the shock of it.”
Damn him, he was right. Sir Anthony stared at her as if she were a bug to be studied in length. He hadn’t said a word in several heartbeats. “I had hoped you’d foster my admission into the Royal—”
“Absolutely not,” he responded with vehemence. “Ladies do not become doctors or study anything. I don’t understand this generation and their need to poke their noses in things they best not be a part of.”
“Some ladies find science and knowledge enticing,” Marian said as she lifted her head in defiance. “Intelligence is quite an attractive asset to inspire to.”
“Touché,” Lord Harrington agreed. “But I’d take it a step further and suggest there are things a gentleman finds more attractive in a lady than what’s inside their head.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t come here to debate the qualities one looks for in a potential spouse. I want to become an active member of the Royal Medical Society.”
“That’s not going to happen, my dear. I’m afraid women are not allowed and never will be.” Sir Anthony squared his shoulders, preparing for battle. Good, she planned on giving him something to fight about.