Page 3 of For The Love Of A Widow

“I, well, I cannot admit that I have ever pondered the notion of not wedding you, Lady Lettie.” It had been his late father’s dying wish: that Daniel solidify his betrothal to Lettie, forever joining the two families for generations to come. “Let us discuss—“

“I have met another I wish to marry.”

Her confession landed heavier than a rock in the pit of Daniel’s stomach.

Met another? When, he wanted to demand. How? And especially, whom?

“I am in love with another, and we plan to wed, with or without your approval.” Lettie stood a bit taller, and Daniel sobered quickly, his pride in her growing, even though giving her what she sought meant he’d be losing the final stable thing in his miserable existence. “Within a week’s time, I will marry Mr. Gregory Hughes, and we shall depart London—all of England, in fact.”

“This is absurd, Barclay.” The duchess turned to her husband, pleading for his support. “Tell her that this will not be happening. Heavens, I do not even know a Mr. Gregory Hughes!”

The earl’s mouth hung open in shock as he moved his attention from his wife to his daughter, and back once more.

“The man is after her dowry, I presume.” Lady Percival shook her head from side to side. “I will not allow it.”

Lettie took advantage of her father’s stunned silence to continue on her course. “Lord Linwood, please inform my parents you are willing to forgo our families’ agreement, thus freeing me to wed Gregory.”

Who in the bloody hell is Gregory, Daniel wanted to demand; however, he risked a glance at Lettie then, and any rebuff he’d planned slipped from his mind. He may very well be deep in his cups—and smelling of another woman—but he bloody well knew when a woman was telling the truth. Her look pleaded with him to do as she asked.

He hesitated still.

Lettie was—had always been—the one constant in his ever-changing life. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, he always knew she’d be waiting for him.

The last year had tested their relationship, as Lettie had been introduced to society, and Daniel had fallen deeper and deeper into despair and loneliness—ultimately taking to his club and other unsavory activities.

If he agreed to break off their betrothal, it would bring disgrace upon both their families. It did not bother Daniel to live in such a shadow of ill-repute, but never would he allow anyone to think poorly of her.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked. When she only nodded, Daniel continued, “You love this man?”

“Gregory, his name is Gregory—and I do love him, very much so.”

“He will treat you well, provide for you?” Daniel could not believe he was entertaining the idea of giving in to her demands. “He has the means necessary?”

She nodded again.

“I certainly hope he does because you will not see a single schilling from your father or me if you continue down this unacceptable path, young lady.” The duchess stood abruptly, tossing her napkin onto the table before turning a pointed stare to Daniel. “And if you think to go along with this ruse, Lord Linwood, you will depart this house immediately.”

Daniel lumbered to his feet, surprised his balance had returned. “I bid you all ado and good evening.”

He gave a curt bow to Lady Lettie and started for the door.

It wasn’t until he’d made his way down the hallway toward the foyer Daniel sobered to the realization that his life—the life his parents had planned for him—and the future he’d always counted on, thought to be his due, was gone. Forever out of reach.

“Blast it all,” Daniel muttered.

Though Lettie had chosen another, he was not without distractions of his own.

A jaunt to Drury Lane was exactly what a night such as this called for.

CHAPTER 1

L ondon, England

December 1814

Daniel Greaves, the Duke of Linwood, gulped down his final tumbler of scotch for the evening—or was it early morning?—as he stood from his seat on unsteady legs, the perfect vantage point to witness all the Christmastide festivities surrounding him. It was hard to determine if there was more bare flesh surrounding him or red-and-green-covered bodies, their flesh draped with holiday finery. His head swam slightly when he took the first step toward the door. Reaching out, he stabilized his balance and continued to the exit.

“Your coat, your grace?” a footman asked at his elbow, already holding out Daniel’s overgarment. When Daniel made to take the jacket and drape it over his arm, the servant continued. “The temperature has plummeted since your arrival, and the wind is fierce. Allow me to assist you.”