Page 1 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

CHAPTER 1

LONDON—LATE MARCH 1830

Simon’s day could have been worse. Or so he told himself. The waves of fatigue and sudden chills creeping in might be his imagination instead of another malaria attack.

Or so he told himself.

He squeezed against the wall of the hallway as servants bustled past, carrying the Duke and Duchess of Burwood’s trunks.

“Excuse us, Mr. Beckham,” one of the footmen said as Simon tried in vain to stay out of their way.

The atmosphere at Pendrake House—situated in the most elite part of London—had been nothing short of funereal.

Simon grunted at the thought.Poor choice of words.

Indeed, Honoria’s sister-in-law, Margery, had expired from consumption two days prior, word having just reached them in London that very morning. Naturally, Honoria was distraught, and Drake had insisted they pack up and head to Somerset posthaste.

Drake’s voice boomed with ducal authority from the gallery below. “Simon! A word, if you please.”

Simon couldn’t help but smile. Drake had taken to his role as duke so quickly, one would never imagine how reluctant he’d been to assume the responsibility of his ancestors. In fact, less than a year prior, Simon and Drake had perpetrated a deception at a house party wherein they had switched roles, with Drake pretending to be Simon’s man-of-business. Thank goodness the scheme didn’t backfire and lose Drake the woman of his dreams.

Drake peered up from where he had his arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, his brow furrowed and eyes tense. He had every reason to be tense. In addition to the death of his brother-in-law’s wife, Honoria expected their first child in less than a month. Both the Duke of Ashton, functioning as Honoria’s physician, and Drake had urged her not to chance the journey so late in her confinement. But even two dukes could not dissuade her. Honoria would hear none of it.

“I need to be there for Colin,” she’d said.

So like Honoria to put others’ needs before her own. And as much as Simon admired her, like her husband and physician, he worried for both her and her child’s safety.

No doubt Drake—who ran worst case scenarios in his mind constantly—had planned for every possibility.

Simon managed to skirt past the footmen once again as they returned upstairs to retrieve—no doubt—another trunk, finally making it down the long staircase.

Honoria sent him a tremulous smile. Dark shadows under her eyes, red from weeping, marred her fair complexion.

Unable to bear her pain, Simon jerked his gaze away and faced Drake. “Write as soon as you make it to Somerset safely.”

Drake gave a curt nod, his drawn face mirroring the woman he loved. “The journey will take longer than usual. We’ll have to make more frequent stops, so don’t worry.”

Impossible. And also excruciatingly painful. And Simon tried toavoid pain at all costs. A wave of heat hit him, reminiscent of the blasted Indian desert, and he swayed.

Luckily, Drake’s attention remained on Honoria. The last thing he wanted was to add to Drake’s list of concerns. By the time Drake turned back toward him, Simon had recovered.

Drake tugged on his gloves. “With both Stratford and myself away, Ashton promised to take the helm with our argument in Parliament for reform. Harcourt will fill in when Ashton has to be at his clinic. I’ve asked them to relay any information directly to you. If you would compile it and write to me with any news, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course. I still can’t believe you’ve managed to get Stratford on your side.” Simon sent an apologetic glance toward Honoria. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to disparage your father.”

“No offense taken, Simon. And please cease with the ‘Your Grace’ when we’re alone. There is nothing graceful about the way I feel.” She placed a hand on her back, stretched forward, and gave a very delicate groan.

Drake straightened to attention, reminding Simon of their days in the military. “We need to get you settled in the carriage, my darling.”

Simon would never understand the quiet communication his friends had with each other. It was as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The idea was both appealing and disconcerting.

And nothing he would ever experience with a woman if he had any say in the matter.

Footmen maneuvered around them with yet another trunk, and Frampton appeared. The butler’s usual stoic expression softened as he waited to be acknowledged.

“Is all readied?” Drake asked.

“Yes, Your Grace. That”—he tipped his head in the direction the footmen had gone—“was the last trunk. Brown and MissPrice are aboard the second carriage. Are you certain I can’t accompany you?”

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