Page 9 of Anything But a Duke
He never imagined the man would one day inherit a dukedom.
“I do recommend getting yourself a bride,” Tremayne said after his first sip of whiskey. “But there must be more. Huntley wouldn’t advise such a measure lightly.”
“Lockwood has refused my participation in the exhibition.” The words were bitter on Aidan’s tongue. He had knowledge and experience to contribute. Years more than most of the pale, feckless noblemen who played at being patrons of industry could ever claim.
“The one based on the Paris Exhibition?”
“England’s will be different. Better. The prince is determined to make it so.”
“Industrial devices are your specialty. Why would they refuse you? How many projects have you invested in now?”
“I’ve lost count.”
Tremayne scrubbed a hand along the edge of his jaw. “So you must win over Lockwood.”
“Perhaps Lockwood has a marriageable daughter,” Huntley said as he twisted his tumbler in his hand. “Two birds downed in that single bargain.”
“No.” Aidan briefly imagined meeting with Lockwood to ask for his daughter’s hand and could only envision his own hand balled into a fist and planted neatly in the center of the man’s face. “If I’m not fit for exhibition planning, then I won’t be good enough for a betrothal.”
“Might be worth an inquiry.” Tremayne deposited his glass and inspected the club from the balcony’s edge. “If not, there are plenty of noblemen downstairs with daughters on the marriage mart. Finding one who wants a rich husband shouldn’t be hard.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Huntley arched a brow.
“I admit I have not acquired your reputation”—a muscle jumped at the edge of Aidan’s jawline—“but I am aware of how to woo a lady. Just not a noble one.”
Huntley let out a low chuckle. “They aren’t so very different. You’ve befriended Lady Lovelace.”
“You’re also acquainted with the most beautiful duchess in England,” Tremayne said without a hint of modesty.
Aidan emptied his glass and cast his aristocratic friend a glower.
How could he get Nick to understand that a duke marrying his lady steward and making her his duchess was far different from a man raised in a Lambeth workhouse daring to claim an aristocrat’s daughter as his own?
“There are matchmakers who—”
“I can arrange my own courtships. Thank you very much.” All thisadviceand desire to aid him in such a personal matter was beginning to make his skin itch. He wasn’t used to divulging his concerns to anyone.
Aidan tugged at the tight collar of his shirt.
Huntley and Tremayne fell silent but exchanged a series of conspiratorial nods and glances.
“No,” Aidan said firmly. “Whatever you’re concocting, stop now.”
“What’s the point of owning an infamous gaming club with a marquess and a duke if we can’t help find you a wife?”
The pounding in Aidan’s head had become a hammer. He realized he was clenching his teeth. “No,” he repeated again, loud enough for his voice to echo off the low ceiling. “If I am to marry, I will find my bride, and I will woo her with no help from either of you.”
“Not even the help of an invitation?” Tremayne asked. “Mina is hosting a party next week. I’m sure at least one of the young ladies who attends will be unmarried and titled.”
Aidan contemplated the whiskey decanter. “I would never refuse your wife’s invitation.”
Tremayne’s ever-present smile widened. “Excellent.”
“But no interference.” Aidan lifted a finger and pointed at his friend. “If I speak to a titled lady, let it be by chance. If I choose pursuit, it shall be my choice.”
“Of course.” Tremayne lifted both hands in the air in mock surrender. “I’d never play matchmaker. I barely know how I ended up with a wife myself.”
