Page 1 of One Night for Seduction
Chapter 1
January 22, 1817
London, England
On the afternoon in which Caleb Sutton, fifth Duke of Colehaven, strode into a familiar pub in the heart of the Haymarket district, he did not suspect that his world was on the cusp of being turned upside down… Again.
“Colehaven!” chorused the pub’s colorful denizens in unison, raising their mugs in good cheer.
The duke blinked errant snowflakes from his eyelashes and returned their light-hearted grins. Whatever wintry mischief the wind might be making out-of-doors, here inside the tavern known as the Wicked Duke, all was as it should be. Lively conversation, fine ale, friendly faces, and Cole’s favorite worn leather seat awaiting him.
He immediately handed off his coat and hat.
“Ten years,” Cole said as he took his customary spot between two of his closest friends. “Do you know what this means?”
“We’re getting old?” Eastleigh drawled, giving a sardonic arch to his brow.
Valentine Fairfax, sixth Duke of Eastleigh, had not only been Cole’s partner in crime since their earliest days at Oxford, but was also fifty percent of the reason they—and, later, their tavern—had earned the monikerwicked dukes.
The other fifty percent of the blame lay squarely on Cole’s shoulders.
“It means,” he continued as he accepted a mug of perfectly frothed ale, “this Season marks the ten-year anniversary of the Wicked Duke tavern. I’d say that’s cause for celebration, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d say it’s cause for a round of drinks on Colehaven!” called a voice from amongst the throng next to the bar.
A sea of glasses clinked in the air as the crowd roared its approval.
“My pockets are to let,” Cole protested, affecting a wide-eyed expression. “My sister’s millinery expenditures have beggared me. Have you any notion what it costs to clothe a fashionable young lady every Season?”
“Marry her off,” Eastleigh suggested.
“If only it were so easy,” came a groan from Cole’s opposite side, where their friend Thaddeus Middleton gazed back at them piteously. “If there’s a secret maneuver for marrying off unmarriageable ladies, for the love of God,tell me.”
Cole’s voice lowered dangerously. “Did you just call my sister unmarriageable?”
“Felicity could have her pick of husbands by nightfall and you know it,” Eastleigh put in. “Middleton’s ward is a special case.”
“A very special case,” Thaddeus agreed. “It cannot be done. You chaps are fortunate that all you have to deal with are your little meetings in the House of Lords. I have a ward who cannot be tamed.”
“There’s your trouble.” Cole sat back. “Your first mistake is believinganywoman can be tamed. If she suspects that’s what you’re about, you might as well give up altogether and save yourself the fight.”
“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said doubtfully. “After serving six grueling years at war, you would think I could handle a slip of a girl.”
“Girls are far trickier than French soldiers,” Eastleigh assured him. “Had we sent a crop of Diamonds of the First Water to the front lines in lieu of the Royal Army, Napoleon would have been trussed up decades ago.”
Eastleigh would know. Like Cole, the duke had a sister.
“Tell you what,” Cole set down his ale. “When Parliament opens next week, I’ll suggest that very thing. All troublesome young ladies who discard suitors like unwanted hairpins will be outfitted with uniforms and muskets and sent to the front lines to train our troops.”
“Do not dare him,” Eastleigh interrupted before Thaddeus could respond. “You know Colehaven cannot resist a wager. That’s half the reason the Wicked Duke exists today.”
“I won that bet,” Cole pointed out. “We’re celebrating the ten-year anniversary of my unbroken winning streak.”
“We’re celebrating the tenth anniversary of the Wicked Duke,” his co-owner corrected. “Besides, I’m not convinced that Vauxhall debacle was anything short of disaster.”
“I said I’dplaythe bassoon on center stage,” Cole reminded him firmly. “I never said I’d be good at it.”
“I dare you,” Thaddeus blurted out. At this unintended outburst, a flush immediately colored his cheeks.
