Chapter One
London,1877
The worst morning of Ian Holt’s life was shrouded in flowers.
Blooms covered every inch of the Mayfair home where he’d spent his childhood. It was a veritable sea of white and pink petals and Ian could not—and would not—fathom how much it all cost.
He paced the last bastion of free space in the drawing room like a caged tiger until an enormous arrangement of orange blossoms and birds of paradise arrived and forced him to halt.
He gave the thing a halfhearted shove, to prove he had influence over something in his life.
“Have you resorted to smashing things?” Henry Eden strode across the room and extended his hand to offer a pacifying handshake.
Ian accepted it with a huff. “I recall from our Harrow days that we both became rather good at smashing things.”
“As your legal counsel, I’d advise neither of us confirm or deny that statement.”
Despite his sour mood, Ian fought off a smile. Their public school prefects had tried to make cowering servants out of them. He and Henry had endured daily humiliations of being pelted with eggs, and nightly beatings, until they’d learned how to throw a punch. Not getting caught was Ian’s first lesson in self-preservation.
“I’m not condoning violence, but one thing that could do with a clearing out is that gaggle of reporters outside,” Henry remarked.
“They’re still there?” Ian ground his teeth. He’d sent some of his men to spook them off hours ago. New vultures must have arrived, eager for a scoop on the biggest society wedding of the season. They were like vermin, nearly impossible to shake without force, which Ian would have enjoyed using immensely if he could have evaded the consequences.
He swatted a wreath of roses instead.
“I don’t think destroying the drawing room is going to dispatch them,” Henry said. “Or make your brother arrive any sooner.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Henry was at a loss for words. Ian couldn’t blame him. Few people would have anything courteous to say when a man went missing on the morning of his wedding.
“The groom is always late,” Henry finally managed. “Jared is no different.”
Ian refrained from asking how many of those grooms never returned home the night before their weddings. He’d sent his most trusted man to search for Jared discreetly, but so far there was no trace of his brother at any of his usual haunts.
“And what about the brides? Do they struggle with punctuality?” Ian deliberately did not turn an eye upstairs, where Jared’s intended was finishing her bridal preparations. If he allowed himself the indulgence of turning his thoughts in Diana’s direction, he’d lose what little control he was hanging on to.
Henry carefully moved a swan-shaped cascade of lilies out of Ian’s striking distance. “This has to be difficult for you. If it were me, I’d hate—”
Ian’s glare promised a violent follow-up if Henry violated their long-standing, unspoken agreement never to utter Diana’s name in his presence.
“I’d hate being shut out of my family’s business,” Henry amended.
“On the contrary. My new position as lead clerk in the Bombay office will be most rewarding. I’m looking forward to it.”
Both of them knew it was a lie. Neither acknowledged it.
After the wedding, Ian would depart London. But he was leaving the newly aligned family business far behind.
Jared’s marriage to Diana Rives would conclude a merger their fathers had dreamed and schemed about for years. Uniting Holt & Company’s trading venture with the Rives Shipping empire would grant them many competitive advantages and the lion’s share of the market. Ian had successfully manipulated the business papers to report it that way. So they would avoid digging around and uncovering the significant debt Holt & Company had acquired in the years Jared had assumed control of the business.
His brother would have run the company into the ground after their father’s death, had it not been for Ian’s quiet interference. Practically, it was a matter of his survival. Their father had named Jared as his sole heir, leaving Ian financially dependent on the small salary the company paid him to officially—and unofficially—arrange things.
Ian detested the role. But it was necessary, to keep the promises he’d made to his father.
“You don’t have to go through with it,” Henry said in a low voice. “I can’t believe your father would want you to make this dangerous gamble.”
“I never should have told you. The less you know, the better.”
