Page 4 of Winning Her Duke

His mother and father had hated each other with a passion only rivaled by their individual hedonistic endeavors. Hale had met his father just twice before he’d died when Hale was just sixteen. Both times had been by accident when his father had planned house parties on the same country estate on which he currently resided.

Hale understood the confusion. After all, he was moved from estate to estate at random either because one of his parents needed the house and wanted him out of the way, or because they worried Hale would become too attached to the staff.

It was for that reason, Hale’s tutors and governesses had been changed out repeatedly as well.

Somewhere in all the confusion of where Hale was living and with whom, it must have also escaped his parents’ notice that their son had reached the age boys went off to school. Because of this, Hale did not start George Heriot’s School in Edinburgh until he was four and ten.

But despite his late start, it had changed his life. He’d made his first friends and they remained his friends to that day. Even though they were excessively late to this bloody social event and would be one man short.

It still seemed odd, a year later, that Ethan was gone. On his deathbed, he’d called each of them into his room privately. Hale didn’t know what the other men had discussed, but Ethan had forced a promise from Hale, that he find his passion.

Hale hadn’t been sure what his passion was until a few months ago when he purchased a racehorse with plans to train, race, and breed him.

He cleared his throat as the music began and the first group of dancers took the floor. He rather enjoyed dancing, but to ask any of the ladies in the room to dance would be perceived as interest and expectations would be inevitable. Followed by disappointment.

It was better to stay on the peripheral. The dangerous duke to be avoided.

The biggest fraud of all was that Hale wouldn’t actually mind having a companion. To have someone to spend the rest of his life with sounded rather pleasant after a life alone. To have a constant friend who would never leave him would be the perfect cure to heal the boy in him who had never had anyone.

Unfortunately, finding a woman who was sincere, engaging, lovely, and ready to take on the role of duchess to a large Scot, whom he could also consider a friend, was a bit like finding a unicorn. A mythical thing that did not exist. Ton marriages were notorious for being insincere. Women, especially those seeking a match, were not to be trusted.

Young ladies of the ton were taught to twist themselves into reflections of the men they sought out. Learning what they genuinely thought about anything was much like speaking to oneself.

It was much safer to stay clear of such entanglements since it was utterly impossible to know who they really were. For they laughed at everything. Agreed with everything. Smiled at everything.

Except, he noticed as he stood up straight and gazed across the ballroom, for her.

The striking brunette opposite him did nothing to hide her disinterest in the event. He’d only just noticed her and already, she’d checked the clock twice and looked longingly toward the door four times. Anyone observing her would know her mind was set on escape.

He pressed his lips together to hide his smile. She was beautiful. Her emerald gown failed to hide her luscious curves. Her dark gaze fixed on him only briefly before moving on to the next person and the next.

He considered for a moment she must be looking for someone to break her free from the boredom of the event.

“Best of luck with that, lass,” he muttered to himself, remembering he was still searching for his own friends. It was at that very moment that Lord Julian Huntly, Earl of Melville, came into view. Like Hale, he wore a tartan sash across his formal coat, fashioned with a brooch. While the Act against Highland dress was abolished in 1782, Hale and his friends chose not to scandalize the ton by showing their bare knees in a kilt. Rather preferring to scandalize them in other ways.

When Christopher Sinclair, Viscount Stormont, arrived a moment later from the opposite direction, the ball could now be considered perfectly disreputable. The savages had arrived.

They were also joined by Graham Dorsett, Marquess of Penbrook, who being of English blood and title should have lent an air of credibility to their group, but instead seemed to do the opposite.

After a hearty greeting, Julian proposed they head to the card room as expected.

Hale agreed with a nod then stayed his friends.

“Wait. Do either of you know that woman—” Pointing would have been rude, but Hale had planned to describe the color of her hair, gown, and proximity to the edge of the dance floor. But the woman had moved.

Hale searched for her by the door, assuming she’d managed to flee, but she wasn’t there either.

“What woman?” Graham asked. “I’m sure I know her. I know them all.”

Hale couldn’t dispute his friend’s reputation for enjoying the company of women.

“Never mind. It appears she’s gone.”

“Shall we?” Kit, as they liked to call Christopher, nodded toward the hall that would take them away from the manipulations of those in the room who strategized for that unholiest of unions.

A marriage of convenience.

Hale would never consider such a thing. He refused to marry someone he didn’t care for. Especially for the sole sake of breeding an heir. He wouldn’t be caught in the same situation as his parents, forced into an arrangement with a stranger.