CHAPTER 1
Dominic Mercer let out a breath while studying the ivy-covered townhouse nestled in the corner of a street in London.
There was no reason for a duke to linger out in the street like this. He’d stationed his barouche just out of sight, needing the extra time to consider how he would handle this… situation.
Because even as the seventh Duke of Wycliffe, he couldn’t control everything in the world.
I don’t even know how someone dares summon a duke if they are not royalty.
But apparently they did when they were Cassian Ashbourne, the Viscount of Quinley.
The front door opened before he had finished climbing the stairs. A short footman offered a short bow. “Your Grace. Welcome to Ashbourne House. May I take your hat?”
He blinked, waiting for the footman to correct himself. Perhaps the lad had been practicing his greeting, especially since Dominic had yet to offer a card. But the man stared blankly at him so he had to say, “What hat?”
“I… Oh. That is, your coat?”
“This is not a strong start,” Dominic noted.
The footman scratched his cheek. “Your… anything?”
“No. I take it you were expecting me, which means the viscount is expecting me?”
Dominic hardly knew the young viscount who had to be five years his junior. In fact, he knew precisely eight facts about the viscount and the eighth one was most likely the reason he was here. Which left him not just annoyed, but wary.
And he had reason for it. Already Dominic knew the darker and danker corners of London. He liked watching the gambling, the risk, the danger. Not for himself, but to see others survive and fight their way through it.
Except he had left it behind seven months ago.
All because of Ashbourne. I wonder if he knows it. How could he? Perhaps this is a friendly call. A strange invitation poorly worded.
The thought almost made him laugh.
“Right, yes. The viscount is…” The footman paused.
Another voice, a soft and serious tenor, spoke for him from down the hall. “In the drawing room, Johnson. Your Grace, welcome. Johnson, make sure we are not to be disturbed.”
While Johnson eagerly obeyed, Dominic was able to lay eyes on the viscount.
Cassian Ashbourne was nearly as tall as he. With dark blond hair and green eyes, he cut a fine figure around London according to all accounts. He was a very particular and careful gentleman who, as the acting figurehead for his four younger siblings, took his responsibilities extremely serious.
The viscount looked back impassively before nodding for him to follow him into the room.
“I wasn’t certain if you would come today.”
Glancing about the room, Dominic paused to raise his eyebrow. “It was a rather interesting invitation. My appearance seemed… necessary.”
“Yes, it was. Shall we sit?”
The two gentlemen circled each other, putting distance between themselves before sitting.
“I have something to say,” Ashbourne announced at last.
I would hope so if I came all this way.
Except he wasn’t entirely certain he wished to hear a word from the lord. They didn’t have anything in common. They didn’t run in the same circles. Quite frankly, of late, neither of them ran in any circles that he knew of. This brought him little comfort.
Dominic finally gave a curt nod. “Go on.”
