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Chapter 1
Whitby, 1812
Rafe looked up when he heard someone shouting his name. He grinned when he saw the pair of young men approaching him across the terrace. Putting aside his rifle and cleaning cloth, Rafe got to his feet.
“I was beginning to think you were never going to get here,” he said as he clasped Richard’s hand. “You do tend to make a grand entrance.”
Richard Hayward grinned.
“What can I say? We like to make sure everyone knows we’ve arrived.”
Beside him, Gregory Hayward rolled his eyes. Rafe ignored him. Richard’s cousin was always grumbling about how immature and daft Rafe and Richard were. In Rafe’s opinion, if a gentleman thought he was immature, then he shouldn’t be hanging around people seven years his junior.
Then again, knowing what Gregory was like, it was no wonder he had very few people his own age to converse with. Most members of society were just as fed up with his belligerent behaviour as Rafe was.
But Richard loved his cousin, and he was patient with him. Rafe couldn’t argue with that.
“So, when are we going?” Richard asked. “Is Sebastien around?”
“He’s with Father right now. They’re just having a discussion over something inside.” Rafe shrugged. “Don’t ask me what. They tend to leave me out of these things.”
“Is he trying to urge Sebastien to marry again?”
“More than likely. And my brother is going to fight him on this until his dying breath, I’m sure.”
That was nothing unusual lately. Rafe’s father, Earl Blackmore, wanted his eldest son to find a wife to marry and have children with. He wanted to be sure that there were going to be heirs for him once he passed. Sebastien argued that he didn’t want to marry, and it was likely that he never would as he had no inclination to have a wife. Rafe didn’t think the two of them would ever come to an agreement; they were each as stubborn as the other.
Personally, Rafe hoped Sebastien would eventually consider it. Because if their father realised that it was not going to happen, he would turn his focus onto Rafe. And Rafe didn’t want to think about marriage right now. If it happened later or it arose out of the blue, then he would seek it out, but he wasn’t about to go actively searching. He didn’t agree with forced matchmaking, and Rafe was sure it would end in disaster.
“Speaking of marriage,” Gregory said suddenly, “has Uncle William spoken to you about your impending engagement to Florence Carey, Richard?”
Richard snorted.
“Florence Carey? Where did you get that idea from?”
“I overheard him and Aunt Cecily talking about her. They agreed she would be a good wife for you.”
Rafe burst out laughing.
“Are you quite serious, Gregory? Florence and Richard despise each other. They’ve made it clear over the years. That will be practically impossible to carry out without one killing the other.”
Gregory frowned.
“He’s the heir to the Viscountcy. He needs to think about marriage, not about having fun.”
“At my age, I’m entitled to do what I want. And what I want is certainly not contemplating marriage with someone I wouldn’t put out if she was on fire.” Richard turned to Rafe, still shaking his head. “Shall we get ourselves ready? It can’t be that long before we have to leave. We’re not going to get the prime part of the day if we want to hunt.”
“I’m sure Father and Sebastien will be out shortly. Speaking of which,” Rafe turned when he heard footsteps, “that sounds like them now.”
Sure enough, the tall, stocky frame of Earl Blackmore came out from the house, followed by Sebastien. His eldest son was scowling, glaring at his father’s back. Blackmore didn’t seem to notice, or care, as he strode over to the group, clapping Rafe on the shoulder.
“So, are we ready?”
“I believe so, Father.”
“Richard! Good you could get here, lad.” Blackmore shook Richard’s hand firmly, giving Gregory a brisk nod. “Your father was unable to come, then? Is he still not well enough?”
“He’s well enough to get out of bed, but his colour hasn’t quite come back.” Richard shook his head. “Mother said it was better that he sit this one out and didn’t overdo it for himself.”
