Page 1 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
Chapter 1
London, October 1911
Owen Hadley reclined in a leather armchair in one of the gaming rooms of Brooks’s club on St. James Street, a glass of brandy warming his hand as he glowered at the occupants of the room. It was late in the evening and many of the old regulars of Brooks were coming in for supper. Owen’s attention was only partially on the young lords gambling away their fortunes. A scowl curved his lips down as he watched the coins and pound notes changing hands.
He was in bad need of money, and the irony was not that his need arose from any vice or fault of his own. At thirty-two he was the only male heir in his family, and his estate in the Cotswolds depended on him. While he’d be away fighting a war, the land and house had fallen into disrepair and the tenant farms had been abandoned. Only a large influx of money could bring it back to life. Money he didn’t have. Being merely landed gentry, land was all he had, and his was hurting.
I need a wife.
As much as he was loathe to admit it, marrying an heiress would solve the problem. But finding a woman and getting approval from her father for the match would be difficult. There were many other men, impoverished peers who could offer young ladies and their families’ titles as trade for their dowries. Owen grimaced. He could offer no titles, nothing else to persuade a lady to marry him. He glanced about the other tables in the club, misery darkening his mood further.
One of the young men nearby cheered as he won a winning hand. The temporary excitement in the tame quiet of the room was grating on Owen’s ears. He scowled in the direction of the exuberant gamblers. The downward movement of his lips and the tensing of his cheeks caused a bolt of pain along his bruised jaw. One week ago, he’d caught a train down to Hampton House, the country residence of his close friend Leo Graham, the Earl of Hampton.
One of the house party guests had been a divine raven-haired creature named Ivy Leighton. Her father was the owner of a London newspaper. He was nice and more importantly he was rich. The possibility of seducing the nouveau-riche newspaperman’s daughter had been impossible to resist. A very rich young lady who would have set his home well up with her fortune. Owen had been so close to saving his estate, but he’d acted foolishly.
Perhaps a little too foolishly, he amended. Leo had gotten upset when he found Owen trying to steal a kiss from the young lady. Owen had been attempting to compromise her in the presence of witnesses. In such a situation, marriage would have been guaranteed, but Hampton had come upon them first and knocked Owen senseless. He still didn’t understand why he and his friend, a man he’d never quarreled with before, had come to blows without warning over a woman. Owen had never felt strongly enough about any woman to throw a punch for her.
“Hadley?” A familiar voice disturbed him from his thoughts. He glanced up to see Leo staring at him with a mixture of amusement and irritation.
“Hampton,” he replied, a tad gruff. He hadn’t enjoyed his friend rendering him unconscious by snapping him a good blow to the jaw. It hadn’t been too sporting to strike a man unawares, and Owen’s pride stung a little.
“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been ages since we enjoyed a night at the club—”
“What do you want?” Owen growled.
“I’m sorry. I suppose I owe you an apology for hitting you. But damnation, Owen, you were in the wrong.”
Owen shot him a challenging glare. “Why did you hit me? I was trying to secure myself a wife. Ms. Leighton would have been perfect for me.”
“I couldn’t let you have her—Ivy, I mean.” Hampton lowered his voice. Speaking of a lady, even in good terms, in a club was taboo. Owen didn’t care for such rules, but Leo was more of a gentleman. Ever since they were lads, Owen had always been the one more likely to get into trouble.
“Why not? Are you…interested in her?” Owen prodded, sensing there was a change in his friend. Leo seemed more…alive, like the old Leo he’d been before his father had died and the responsibilities of the estate crushed all the fun out of him.
“We were childhood friends. I hadn’t seen her since she was eight, and when I met up with her again…I fell for her, hard. She’s agreed to marry me.” Leo’s cheeks turned a ruddy red as he admitted this, and Owen would have laughed under other, less-tense circumstances.
So Leo was marrying the heiress? Lucky devil. But I’m the one who really needed her.
“I see.” Owen sat back in his chair, which was close to the wall near the electric bell. He rang it and waited for the attendant. If he and Leo were going to have a discussion involving women, he needed a stiff drink.
“I should have declared my intentions toward her, Hadley. I would have, but damned if I didn’t know what my intentions were until I saw you with her.” Leo eased into a chair opposite Owen and nodded toward the bruised spot on Owen’s face. “I’m sorry about that.”
Owen’s annoyance with his friend was temporarily weakened.
“I hope we can go on as we were before?” Leo inquired, his tone still low, careful. Leo was always so bloody cautious. Except when it came to Ivy Leighton, apparently. After Leo’s unexpected show of violence, Owen hadn’t stayed at Hampton House. He’d run back to London like a kicked dog with his tail between his legs. But their friendship ran river deep and he was not about to let a quarrel over a woman destroy that bond.
“Of course,” he reassured his friend. “You can make it up to me by finding me a rich wife,” he half jested, but Leo saw through the sardonic air he’d usually cloaked his troubles with.
A servant came over with a decanter and refilled Owen’s glass before offering Leo his own drink, which he accepted gratefully. After the servant left, Leo shot him a meaningful look.
Leo inched closer. “It’s Wesden Heath, isn’t it?”
Rather than reply, he nodded. The state of his home’s affairs was dire, and thinking of it turned his stomach. And he didn’t want to keep discussing his crumbling estate with his friend.
“Perhaps I can help you there. Ivy and I will be hosting another house party soon, for a Scottish lord Mother knows, someone related to her cousin I believe. Would you consider coming back for it? The Pepperwirths have just allowed their youngest daughter, Miss Rowena, to have her come-out. She’s a lovely creature. Eighteen and a sizeable dowry. I know you’d do well by a wife, Hadley, so you might have a chance with her. Perhaps, if you play your hand right…” Leo trailed off, letting Owen pick up on his unspoken suggestion.
Owen sat up, confused. “Mildred Pepperwirth has a little sister?” He nearly laughed, which would have been the height of rudeness. Mildred was the eldest daughter of Viscount Pepperwirth, whose lands abutted Leo’s to the west. She was a beauty, but cold and lacking in personality and warmth. The woman didn’t even dance, for heaven’s sake. Owen loved a woman who danced, who laughed and smiled. A woman should be happy; she should be brilliant and witty, not a cold shrew. Owen couldn’t help but wonder how Rowena would compare to her sister, Mildred.
Leo’s lips twitched. “She does. As I understand it, Lord Pepperwirth is very protective of Rowena and she’s been quite closeted away until now. Say you’ll join us and I would be happy to put in a good word for you with her father.”
