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Chapter One
Seated behind hisdesk, Anthony MacMillian, Earl of Drake, stared down at his most prized possession, which sat in the middle of his palm. A stone that he carried about always. It wasn’t a precious gemstone of any sort. No, the round, slightly translucent pebble had been plucked from the garden. Selected by none other than Lady Minerva Malbury, the woman he’d been in love with for longer than he could remember. Anthony’s lips curved as he relived the moment from years ago, when Minerva had used the stone to place him in check, during their one and only chess game. He’d never considered losing an option prior to that day, but he’d forfeited to Minerva for the simple fact that he knew it would make her happy. And it was worth every ounce of his pride to see the girl that had claimed his heart smile at him as if he had bestowed upon her her greatest wish. Minerva was unlike any other. She was a brilliant strategist, a devoted sister, and the most alluring female of his acquaintance.
Anthony’s head snapped to the left to face the window of his private study. The wooden frame rattled, and a shiny black Heisman appeared before the rest of Benedict Malbury, the honorable Viscount of Kent, materialized. Kent, his best friend, and Minerva’s eldest brother, had finally decided to make an appearance this eve. Anthony hated remaining idle, but he’d had no choice but to wait for the newlywed Lord Kent to answer his plea for an audience.
Slightly bent at the waist, Anthony slowly returned his blade to his boot. Kent was no threat, or at least he wasn’t at the moment.
Feet firmly planted on the floor, Kent sealed the window back into place and straightened to his full height before he firmly tugged on his coat sleeves and turned to face Anthony. “This had best be a matter of dire straits, as you portrayed it to be in your missive, or you’ll owe me a crate of brandy for summoning me from my bed and wife.”
Did Kent suspect his motives? Anthony pocketed the stone and steepled his fingers. “I’m leaving England for an undefined period, and I need your assistance.”
Kent strode over to the fire and removed his gloves. Palms held out toward the flames, he asked, “You’re leaving? The first session of Parliament is in two days. You can’t leave now.” He rubbed his hands together and turned. “You can’t simply leave Town now.”
Anthony shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t his choice.
Kent stripped out of his greatcoat, sat in the wing-back chair opposite Anthony, and arched a brow.
“You know I hate sailing.” Anthony masked the shudder of fear that rolled down his spine. He’d heard too many tales of lives lost at sea. The seas were dangerous and unpredictable. And boats, boats were fragile and unreliable. He was a land-faring man, preferring the earth beneath his feet, safe and solid.
“My wife is abed and waiting. Get to the point.”
“The Head of the Foreign Office has issued an ultimatum—I’m to board theQuarter Moonat first light…or challenge Minerva to a chess match.” He mumbled the second half of his statement, hoping Kent would ignore it, and held his breath.
Kent leaned forward, one arm on his knee supporting his weight. “I thought you declined the offer to join the department years ago.”
Anthony sighed. Thank goodness his friend had overlooked the mention of his sister. “Indeed, I have. Repeatedly, however, the Head of the Foreign Office made it clear it is no longer an offer but a directive.”
“Interesting. Where do they intend to send you?”
“To hell, as far as I’m concerned,” he replied.
Minerva was planning to head west to America, and they were sending him in the opposite direction, to the east—India.
Kent glared at him, lips thinned and brows knitted. The intimidating action worked to gain the truth from the man’s siblings, but it wouldn’t work on Anthony. He could easily evade the question with a series of short, redirecting statements, but he wasn’t in the mood for riddles.
“India. They are shipping me off to India, but I’m not ready to leave, not until I know—”
“You know what?”
Anthony raised his gaze to meet Kent’s questioning features. It was time. Time to stop pretending he didn’t care. “I can’t leave until I know Minerva is safe and happily wed.”
Kent jumped up from his seat. “Safe! You promised to keep Mansville and his lot away from her until I arrived.”
With his best friend looming over him, Anthony answered, “Besides a very brief encounter at the races at Fulham, Mansville hasn’t been within one hundred yards of Minerva.” He didn’t bother to add that he suspected that the interfering, meddling, but well-meaning Head of the Foreign Office more than likely had played a hand in ensuring Minerva wasn’t bothered by her arch-nemesis. In this instance, he wished he was wrong, but he rarely made errors about these matters.
Kent settled a hand on his right hip and shook his head. “Please don’t tell me you dragged me out of my bed to ask me to look over my own damn sister.”
“You are like a brother to me, and—”
“I know…and Minerva is like a sister.”
His friend’s pompous, all-knowing demeanor grated on Anthony’s nerves. He replied, “No. Not like a sister. That’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you… For years I haven’t—”
Kent raised his hand. “Stop. You need say no more. I’m not a total idiot. I’ve gleaned over the past year that you’ve had more than brotherly feelings for Minerva. What I don’t understand is if that is how you truly felt, why, for the past two Seasons, have you failed to step up and challenge her to a game of chess? Why allow Mansville and his cronies the opportunity to win her hand?”
There were a multitude of reasons in Anthony’s mind as to why he couldn’t marry Minerva, but which would appease Kent’s curiosity? He stood, so he was on equal footing with Kent. “Would you have given me your blessing to challenge her?”
Kent didn’t immediately answer. Instead, the man normally so sure of himself shrugged. “You’re my oldest and closest friend. I know everything there is to know about you.”
