Page 25 of The Love Potion
Nate shrugged. “It’s worth the risk,” he said, his tone flat. Then he looked up with a flash of mischief in his eyes. “And you’re going to tell certain gossips that I’m trying to get a series of poems published.”
“Poems? Do you write poetry?”
His friend nodded. “Terrible ones. But I’ve got a few funny ones that I think will serve.”
“Are they better than the ones you penned for Lady Rebecca?” Years ago, his friend had nurtured a deep tendre for a lady who would never be his bride. It was a true Romeo and Juliet story because the two families had been feuding for years. Fortunately, the only casualty of their infatuation had been a few mangled poems.
“I’ve improved as a writer since then.”
“Good to know.”
With the last of the sandwiches consumed and the tea long since cold, Nate sat back in his chair. His gaze was focusedinward as he undoubtedly started planning something. What, Ras had no idea.
“Ras,” his friend finally said. “Do you plan to go to Baron Francke’s evening of masculine entertainment?”
“Good God no! Whyever would I want to watch drunkards fondle tarts while they play cards?”
“Because you could bring me,” Nate said. “I have not been invited.”
Nate hadn’t been invited because most people knew he didn’t have the ready cash to drop at such an event.
Ras grimaced and mentally added the boorish and often expensive evening to his calendar. “What do you plan to accomplish while watching me play?” Because Nate wouldn’t gamble at an event like that. He would wander around listening to whomever was too deep in his cups—or in a tart—to mind his words.
His friend grinned. “Can you think of a better place to get salacious gossip to print? Not everyone frequents the bawdy houses for entertainment. Some just like to drink, play cards, and—”
“And brag about their lives while someone else pays for their drink.” The Baron was known for serving a generous amount of alcohol at his evenings. “You know, we’re likely to get pickpocketed as we leave. I heard that the street boys wait right outside the Baron’s home just for the opportunity.”
“So win at the table. Then you can lose your winnings without ever noticing the loss.”
Ras shot him a grumbling look which Nate laughed off. They both knew that Ras would do as asked. He and Nate had been the best of friends since they shared a room at Eton. Nate had helped him through his father’s death, and Ras had similarly helped Nate through the realization of his grandfather’s debts and the loss of Lady Rebecca’s love. They had supported eachother throughout the years and an evening of cards was a small price to pay for their friendship.
That didn’t mean that Ras couldn’t exact a price of his own.
“You can repay me by finding out everything there is to know about Miss Petrelli.”
Nate’s expression tightened. “To what end? You cannot marry her.”
Ras snorted as he stood up. It was time to get ready to escort his mother to the next ball. “I’m a duke,” he said. “I can marry whomever I want.”
“Think, man!” Nate matched his friend’s movements. “You are a royal duke in the line of succession.”
“Distantly.”
“It doesn’t matter. Any girl you marry must have Prinny’s approval, and he will never give it to a girl like her. She must have better ancestry if she could someday be queen.”
Ras scoffed as he pulled on his coat. “If I inherit the Crown, then England has much more to worry about than my wife.”
“That is not how it’s done, and you know it.”
He did know it. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. He had no designs on the Crown, though he took his political position in the House of Lords seriously. He found that being distantly in the line of succession a complete burden. And it especially irked him that he could not choose his own bride without royal approval.
There were many things he happily left to Prinny. Ras’s choice of bride was not one of them. Unfortunately, the law said otherwise.
Chapter Nine
Kynthea’s hand shookas she fastened a single pearl necklace around her neck. It was a replacement for one her mother once owned, given to her by her aunt last Christmas. Her mother’s necklace had been sold along with everything else to pay her father’s debts. And now, against all odds and thanks to the kindness of her uncle, she was about to attend her first ball.
It was Zoe’s come-out ball. Kynthea was a lowly guest who would also keep an eye on the servants, but that didn’t lessen her excitement. She’d practiced all the dances at the same time Zoe had. She’d learned how to plan a ball from Zoe’s mother who was a genius hostess. The woman had organized every detail of tonight’s entertainment, and Kynthea had absorbed it all while the woman had tried to teach Zoe the task. The girl had barely listened, but Kynthea had been fascinated by the process. After all, she’d been the one to organize her parents’ household including their few parties. This was the same thing but on a much grander scale, and she enjoyed learning how such a grand event was implemented.
