The Duke of Distraction

by Darcy Burke

  “Don’t you invite them already?”

  “I don’t base my invitations on marriageability,” he said wryly. “But I will for the rest of this Season. Everything I do will be for the primary purpose of finding the man worthy of your affection.”

  When he said it like that, how could she refuse? He didn’t assume she was faulty or that this was a difficult task. And he didn’t treat her desire for love as if it were foolish.

  “Why would you want to help me like this?”

  “Because you’re my best friend’s sister.”

  “And because by helping me, you avoid being snared in a parson’s trap.”

  He laughed, but his gaze was dark. “It would take more than your parents’ pleas to cage me.”

  “I believe that. If I could wager on you remaining unwed, I would.”

  “You’re a gambler at heart. Would you prefer a gentleman who shares your adventurous nature?”

  He thought her adventurous? Even if it only pertained to wagering, she’d take it as a compliment. Still, it wasn’t entirely accurate. “I’m not sure I’m a gambler at heart—or anywhere else. I wagered on your races because it was an opportunity to increase my purse.”

  “To prepare for spinsterhood.”

  “Would you like to know how?” she asked softly. For some reason, she felt emboldened to share everything. At his nod, she continued. “I plan to open a millinery shop. I design all my hats—and make them too.”

  He turned toward her, staring, his gaze drifting to the top of her head, which was bare because she’d rushed from the library without sending for a hat. “You’re very talented.”

  She laughed. “There’s nothing on my head!”

  “Not at present, but I do pay attention.”

  Yes, apparently he did. He had, in fact, complimented her hat the other day. And today, he’d called her beautiful. Did he really think so? That wasn’t something she was bold enough to ask. Besides, it didn’t signify. He wasn’t the man she was looking for.

  “Your parents won’t want you to open a shop any more than they would want you to become a spinster.”

  “Obviously.” She angled her body toward him once more. “I don’t plan for them—or anyone else—to know. I already have an assistant who will manage the physical shop. She’ll live there and oversee a small staff. I will design and create some of the hats, but neither I nor my name will be associated with the enterprise.”

  “You’ve thought this through,” he said. “How did you obtain the property?”

  “I haven’t yet. Now that I have enough money—because of your races—I’d planned to ask Beck or maybe even Anthony for help.”

  “You can’t put Anthony in that position with your parents.”

  She frowned at him. “Why not? I’m confident he would help me.”

  “I am too. However, he shouldn’t. It’s better if he knows nothing. I’ll help you.”

  “You’re already helping me.”

  “Precisely. May as well fulfill everything you require.” He flashed her a smile, and she couldn’t help but grin in return.

  “What will you get from this arrangement, besides my eternal gratitude?”

  He leaned forward again briefly. “That will be enough.”

  “What are you two conspiring out here?” Anthony called out as he strode toward them.

  “Talk of the devil,” Felix murmured, rising to his feet.

  Sarah bit back a smile and stood alongside Felix. “Felix was merely offering moral support.”

  “Isn’t he going to help you find a husband? That’s what he told Father.”

  “He’s going to do what he can,” Sarah said. “But Anthony, I won’t be forced.”

  “Of course not. I pledge to care for you in your spinsterhood after Mother and Father are gone.” He laid his hand over his chest. “I give you my word.” His eyes danced with mirth.

  “Joke all you like, but I’m holding you to that.”

  He sobered. “I only wanted to inject a bit of levity. That was a disaster inside, and I’m very sorry.”

  She knew he was. He’d been as outraged as she was. “Thank you.”

  He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll find you a worthy husband.” Had he and Felix discussed this? She looked between them—of course not.

  “One she can love,” Felix said firmly. “She deserves nothing less.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Anthony smiled at her, then dropped his arm to his side. He looked to Felix. “Ready to be delivered from this asylum?”

  Felix nodded. “I do need to pay a call. Until later, Sarah.” He inclined his head, and they left the garden where Sarah contemplated hats, love, and rakes with hearts of gold.

  Chapter 3

  “Afternoon, Ware,” greeted the Earl of Dartford as he strode into his drawing room, where his butler had led Felix to await the earl.

  “Afternoon, Dart. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “I sincerely hope you’re here to talk about how to wrap up the races. Not for me, mind you, but for Lucy. My wife deserves to take the championship.”

  Felix smiled. “I will try to remain impartial,” he said judiciously, which earned him a chuckle from Dart. “That may be difficult if you agree to my proposal, but I daresay no one will care if it means the races will have the opportunity to conclude.”

  “I’m thoroughly confused,” Dart said with a laugh, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sit.” He gestured to a chair while he sprawled at one end of a settee.

  Felix took the chair Dart indicated. “I think it best to act as though the races are finished.”

  “Because of that dolt Childers?” Dart shook his head. “His wife was foolish, and now everyone else is paying the price.”

  “I don’t know if he’d really get the Prince Regent involved, but I’d just as soon not find out.”

  “A wise decision.” Dart stared at him with interest. “What is your proposal, and what has it to do with me?”

  “I should like to continue the races—in secret.”

  Dart leaned forward, his eyes alight. “Ha, you did say ‘act as though’ they’re done. What do you plan?”

  “We’ll need to stage them out of town, and I thought Darent Hall might be the best location. Furthermore, I didn’t think you’d—” Felix didn’t get a chance to finish.

  “Yes. Hell yes. When?”

  “Whenever we can manage? In a week perhaps?”

  “I can manage it. Just tell me what you need.”

  Felix had considered a possible schedule, and now that he was using the event to help Sarah, he’d come up with what he hoped would be an enjoyable social occasion for everyone involved. “I’m envisioning a two-day affair. Guests will arrive in the early afternoon, and we’ll have the next men’s heat followed by the women’s final. That evening, we’ll celebrate the winner with a feast. The following morning, we’ll have the men’s semifinal and then the final in the afternoon. We’ll finish off that night with another celebration. I will provide additional staff and pay for the celebrations.”

  “Nonsense. It’s my house party, I’ll pay.”

  “But they’re my races,” Felix said.

  “You can contribute, but it will be a shared expense,” Dart said firmly. “Those are my terms.”

  “How can I possibly refuse?” Felix asked with a smile. “As I said, this event will be secret. I will invite very select people and no one in possession of a flapping tongue.”

  “This may be your most successful endeavor yet. The races were terribly popular, and now to have them become exclusive? The Prince Regent may be annoyed that he wasn’t invited.” Dart said this with a grin.

  It was a risk, Felix supposed, but he didn’t know Prinny and wasn’t going to jeopardize the event by telling him about it.

  “Next Wednesday through Friday, since Wednesday was race day?” Dart asked.

  “If you can organize it that quickly. I’ve calculated about f
orty guests.” Ten of them would be bachelors for Sarah to consider, but Felix wouldn’t point that out.

  “It’s a bit tight for Darent Hall, but we can make it work, particularly if we can put unmarried guests like you and Anthony Colton in the same room together.”

  “That’s more than acceptable—and there will be a decent number of unwed guests. I’ll let you know a final count and rooming situation as soon as I speak with each guest.”

  “You plan to invite them all personally?”

  “I refuse to write it down—it’s secret.”

  Dart laughed. “Brilliant!”

  “What’s brilliant?” The Countess of Dartford swept into the room. She was an attractive woman with ink-dark hair and a shrewd gaze. Felix rose.

  Dart stood and turned toward his wife. “I’ll let Ware explain. It’s his secret.”

  “It’s our secret since you’re sharing hosting duties.”

  “I’m merely providing the location,” Dart said.

  The countess looked at him in confusion. “Location for what?”

  Dart smiled at her. “You’re going to love this. Ware will finish his races—in secret—at Darent Hall next week.”

  Her face lit up like a bonfire. She turned her head toward Felix. “How wonderful!”

  “Now you can truly become champion,” Dart said, putting his arm around her.

  “If I beat Lady Exeby. What’s this about it being secret?” she asked.

  “I think it best to keep people like Childers away,” Felix explained.

  The countess nodded. “Good idea.”

  “I’ll apprise you of the specifics, my dear,” Dart said to her.

  “How exciting.” She glanced toward Felix once more. “Thank you for planning this. It will be nice to finish it.”

  “Happy to,” Felix said. “I’ll be in touch.” He excused himself and left their town house, stepping out into the bright mid-May afternoon.

  A short while later, he made his way home and summoned his secretary to his study. He’d barely sat down at his desk when she breezed in the door carrying her typical ledger in which she kept all her notes and information. She called it her bible.

  “How did it go?” Felix’s secretary, Georgiana Vane, sat in her usual chair beside his desk. A pencil jutted from the blonde pile of hair twisted atop her head. Just a bit younger than him, she was astonishingly efficient and organized. She was also exceptionally beautiful—a fact that hadn’t been lost on Felix’s valet, who had married her last year.

  “As expected. The party will begin next Wednesday.”

  George opened her bible and scratched her pencil across the paper. “Two dinners?”

  “Dartford insisted on sharing the expense. Draft a letter asking for the menu—I’ll buy what’s needed, and his staff can make it.”

  “Wine?” She didn’t look up.

  “I’ll let him provide that.”

  “Shall I do the same for other meals?”

  “Whatever you think is best,” Felix said. He was renowned for his entertainments, and yet without George’s oversight, they wouldn’t be nearly as successful as they were. Hell, they probably wouldn’t happen at all.

  She snapped the ledger closed and slid the pencil back into her upswept hair. “Have you completed your list of guests?”

  He hadn’t seen George since visiting the Coltons earlier. “Not yet. And there’s been a bit of a change. This will be forty people instead of thirty.”

  “I suspected as much,” she said with a hint of a smile. “You always think of people you’ve forgotten.”

  “In this case, I need to think of people. Bachelors, specifically. I need to find a match for Sarah Colton.”

  George had met Anthony before but not Sarah, though she’d heard enough about her to know who she was. “You’re adding matchmaker to your activities? Why am I not surprised? In fact, it’s a wonder it’s taken you this long.”

  “I am not becoming a matchmaker. I’m helping a dear friend.” And escaping the parson’s trap himself. In truth, the Coltons’ suggestion that he marry Sarah wasn’t terrible. If he had any interest in marriage, he would consider it. Or at least he would have before he’d known Sarah wished to marry for love. Now he would help her fall in love.

  Hell, he was a matchmaker.

  “I’m only doing it this one time,” he said firmly.

  George pressed her lips together and nodded. “Mmm.”

  “Help me think of bachelors to invite.”

  George laughed. “As if I’m acquainted with any of them in your circle.”

  She had a point, but he grumbled anyway. “You take care of everything.”

  “True, but I can’t take care of this. The Brixcombe ball is in a few days. Surely that is a good place to find eligible bachelors.”

  So was the club. Felix had only to pay attention. “I’ll rely on that if necessary. In the meantime, I’ll look at the club later.”

  “Should I draft an advertisement to place in the newspaper?” George possessed a fair amount of cheek.

  “Yes, let’s proclaim to all of London that Miss Colton is looking for a husband, and I’m to find him for her.” He shook his head, half smiling.

  “Always happy to be of service,” George said, rising from her chair. “Is there anything else?”

  He shook his head, and she left.

  Felix leaned back in his chair and stared at the empty doorway, his mind going back to earlier at the Coltons. He’d been shocked as hell when her father had suggested Felix marry Sarah, but he probably should have seen it coming. He’d known their family for years, and since both he and Sarah were not yet wed, it made sense.

  Except it didn’t.

  She wanted to fall in love, and he wanted to stay as far away from that emotion as possible. It had brought nothing but grief to his family, and he’d no wish to suffer its pain and disappointment.

  She also wanted to sell hats. Secretly. This made him smile. Whomever she chose to marry would have to support that. Or she could remain unmarried, an option that didn’t seem distasteful to her. She was, he realized, a unique and special woman.

  Sarah was going to make some man blissfully happy.

  “There’s a new gentleman here tonight,” Lavinia said, prompting Sarah to scan the Brixcombes’ ballroom.

  “How did you hear this?” Sarah had just arrived with her mother and had left her to join Lavinia in their favorite position near the wall. Lavinia wasn’t a wallflower anymore, of course, since she was now married, but she still stood with Sarah.

  “Oh, you know how that sort of information travels.” Lavinia rolled her eyes. “I’d scarcely been here five minutes before I heard of him. He’s just returned from several years in India.”

  “I don’t suppose he has a title?” Sarah asked. “My parents do prefer a title.”

  Lavinia pursed her lips. “This isn’t about your parents. This is about you.”

  “Is it?” she muttered.

  “There he is. And no, he doesn’t have a title. His name is Mr. Silvester Fielding.” Lavinia gestured toward a gentleman walking toward the doors open to the terrace. “He’s a bit ordinary, isn’t he?”

  He wasn’t particularly tall, and his build was best described as stocky. His clothing was clearly very fine, however, and he wore a pleasant, welcoming expression. “One person’s ordinary is another’s superlative.”

  “You are correct,” Lavinia said. “Shall we wander toward the doors?”

  He hadn’t gone outside, but was merely standing near them, as if he was hoping to catch a bit of the cool night breeze. It had been a warm day, but the temperature had dropped as clouds had moved in. There would be rain tomorrow.

  “I suppose, but who will conduct an introduction?” Sarah wasn’t entirely in the mood to meet a new gentleman. Or even be at this stupid ball. She was rather fixated on her hat business and was frustrated that Felix hadn’t communicated anything on that front. But then he hadn’t communicated anything reg
arding a husband either, so perhaps he’d changed his mind.

  “I’m a marchioness,” Lavinia said with a touch of hauteur followed by a grin. “I’ll introduce myself and then introduce you.”

  Sarah exhaled. “Let’s go.”

  Lavinia touched her arm, her eyes sympathetic. “We don’t have to. We can stay here all night if you prefer. Well, until Beck arrives, that is.” Her gaze turned sheepish.

  Sarah knew Lavinia sometimes felt bad that she’d found happiness and Sarah was still alone. And sometimes Sarah felt bad about that too. Which was why she focused on her millinery shop. It wasn’t Lavinia’s fault that she’d fallen madly in love. Furthermore, Sarah was thrilled for her and never failed to regret the envy she felt from time to time.

  Summoning a smile, Sarah squeezed her friend’s hand. “We should go. For all we know, Mr. Fielding is having a terrible evening, and we’re about to improve it.”

  Lavinia laughed. “Of course we are.” She adjusted her spectacles on her nose and linked her arm though Sarah’s, then they made their way to the gentleman.

  His complexion was a bit dark, as if he’d spent a great deal of time in the sun, and his hair was light brown and quite thick. He seemed close to Anthony’s twenty-eight years, perhaps a year or two older.

  As they approached, his gaze shifted to them, and he quickly dabbed a handkerchief at his brow before slipping it into his coat pocket. His lips curved into a welcoming smile.

  “Good evening,” Lavinia said. “I’m the Marchioness of Northam. I hope you don’t find me impertinent, but I understand you are newly returned to London and wished to welcome you home. Assuming this is your home?”

  “Surrey. And thank you,” he said. “I take it you already know I am Silvester Fielding? I returned last week, and this is my first social engagement, so I do appreciate your impertinence.” He laughed, a low rumbling sound. “Not that you’re impertinent at all. It’s actually quite astounding that I had a moment’s respite. People seem very…welcoming.”

  “Allow me to present my dearest friend, Miss Sarah Colton,” Lavinia said, withdrawing her arm from Sarah’s. “Her father is the Viscount Colton.”