Page 24 of One Night for Seduction
“I meant,” she stammered, “aren’t heirs and spares groomed for ton life? I would imagine parties of any size to be second nature.”
“I’m certain I would have been,” he agreed. “If I had been raised as part of it. My sister and I were the dreaded ‘poor relations.’ Few people even knew I was distantly in line for the title.”
“What happened?” she asked softly.
He paused. “May I?”
She settled on the edge of her chair.
After seating himself, he placed his glass of sherry on the side table rather than bring it to his lips. His expression was pensive.
“Most lords bear many heirs in order to avoid their exalted title falling into the hands of some wretched second or third cousin,” he began.
She nodded, frowning.
“I’m the wretched cousin.” His honesty was stark. “One day, an unfamiliar barrister informed me that there had been a series of tragedies over the past decade—”
“You hadn’t seen your family in a decade?” she blurted out.
“I saw my sister every day. She’s my family. No one else ever came to call, perhaps out of fear we would return the gesture.” His tone hardened. “No one was more shocked than me. I had no idea how to be a lord, and suddenly I was a duke.”
She leaned closer. “What did you do?”
“Learned quickly,” he replied. The edges of his mouth curved, but shadows hid whether his smile reached his eyes. “I was sent off for a proper education.”
“And was it?”
This time, he did laugh. “More than anticipated, I’d wager. I was completely unprepared, but threw myself into my studies. I had to learn everything I’d missed in order to understand what was being taught. I’m not sure I slept those first few months, so determined was I to at least be recognized as an academic equal.”
“The other lordlings believed you unworthy of your title?”
He inclined his head. “Unworthy of Oxford. Inferior to them. So I took it upon myself to excel in every way possible. At first, I thought that meant proving myself better than all the lads who laughed behind my back. They might have been born into their roles, but I was determined to study and practice and memorize until I could out-duke the brightest star among them.”
“Did it work?”
“In mysterious ways.” His mouth twisted. “I gained their respect at the expense of my own. I finally realized I was allowing the wrong people to determine the worth of a man.”
She nodded. “The wrong scale.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to be respected for who Iwas, not by the labels I received by others. I was tired of those constraints. So I broke free.”
She arched a brow. “How does one do that?”
“In my case?” He winced. “An exceedingly foolish dare that led me to my first true friend at Oxford.”
Diana placed her hands to her temples and feigned concentration. “The spirit guides tell me… the Duke of Eastleigh?”
He widened his eyes. “You should have a fortune-telling tent at Vauxhall. Tell me, will I meet a beautiful stranger?”
“Yes,” she said at once. “His name is Eastleigh.”
He shook his head as if fondly recalling past exploits. “In no time, we were known as the ‘wicked dukes.’ We lived up to the name, I’m afraid. Whenever we weren’t at our studies—or being wicked—we could be found at a local tavern we’d made our second home.”
“Drinking and carousing from dusk till dawn?”
“Worse.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Drinking and carousing with non-titled persons,even if they did not attend university.”
Diana reeled back in mock horror. “Egad!”
