“I have no interest in going to any balls, soirees or dinners,” Henry snapped, handing his letters back to his mother. “I have already had the butler attempt to give me these but I told him to put them in the fire.”

“And I prevented him from doing so when I saw them!” his mother exclaimed, waving one hand towards the table where she had placed his letters before rising to hand them to him. “Now listen, you cannot simply ignore the invitations that you are sent. That is very ill mannered of you.”

“And yet, I do not care.”

His mother threw up her hands. “You are the Duke of Fairglen! You must care!”

“I do not.” Henry lifted his chin and looked back at his mother as she stood opposite him though he himself remained seated at his study desk. “I do not want to be here in London, Mother, as you well know. The only reason I have returned is so that I can find a suitable match, marry her and then return to our estate, where she will do all that is required of a Duchess, including producing the heir. Now, does that satisfy you?”

“No,” came the sharp – and quick – reply. “No, it does not. How will you ever find such a young lady if you do not go out in society?”

Henry shrugged. “I will let it be known that the Duke of Fairglen seeks a suitable match and thereafter, I am certain that gentlemen who have sisters or daughters that they are eager to dispose of, will come in search of me.”

His mother closed her eyes. “You will have all of the society gentlemen coming to speak with you, Fairglen! That is no way to pick a suitable match.”

Another shrug. “I care not for the title of the lady, Mother. So long as she is within society, so long as her father is respectable and so long as she is fair to look at, then I have no qualms about anything else.”

“But she is to be your wife!” his mother exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You cannot simply pretend that she will mean nothing to you.”

Turning his attention back to her, Henry sighed loudly enough to make it plain that he had very little interest in what was being said.

“I will not leave until I have your explanation,” came the response, with the Duchess then putting both hands to her hips. “What do you intend to do with your wife, Fairglen? Leave her sitting on the mantlepiece somewhere?”

“No, of course not.” Heaving yet another sigh but seeing only the slight lift of his mother’s eyebrow, Henry gave up his explanation. It was easier to tell her everything rather than fight it. “My wife will have her own separate part of the manor house. I do not intend to spend much time with her despite the fact that she will be my wife. Yes, certain duties will have to be fulfilled but once the heir and the spare are produced, there will be no further requirements aside from the occasional social occasion where we must step out together. Now, pray do not ask me any further questions. I am finished with such things.”

His mother clicked her tongue in disapproval and looked away. “You cannot think that treating a young lady in such a fashion is fair, Fairglen. I know that you were broken over Rachel and –”

“Do not speak her name to me!” Henry slammed both hands on the desk, his eyes narrowing. “Do you not understand? I have no desire to speak of her or of my brother.”

The Duchess did not respond in any other way than to frown.

“I have told you, time and again, that I have no lingering feelings for the lady but neither do I want you to speak of her or my brother,” Henry stated, aware that this was not the first time he had said such things to his mother and growing angry that she continually insisted upon speaking of her. In the last few years, he had felt himself emptied of all affection or even interest in Rachel, though he had also become aware of the hardness of his heart as regarded his brother. He had not seen Luke in the last few years. He had not written to him and any letter or even short note Luke had sent him had gone straight into the fire, unopened. It was not that Henry felt himself broken-hearted still, was not that he still felt any affection for Rachel, but more that the betrayal still cut through him, right to his soul.

“Then let me help you.” This time, his mother set one hand flat on the study desk, leaning forward as her gentle voice cut through his anger. “I can assist you in all of this.”

Henry scowled. “I do not need your help, Mother.”

“But I am offering it, nonetheless. After all,” she continued, rising to stand tall again, “you did not make the right choice the first time, did you? I can assist you in preventing that from happening again.”

The sting of her words struck Henry right across the cheek and he turned his head away, putting his gaze to the window. Perhaps she had not meant to injure him in the way she had done but those words struck him hard, nonetheless.

“I mean only to be of aid to you. You are my son and I have seen the pain you have endured these last few years. You may not be aware of this but I have endured my own pain also, given that my son and his wife will not so much as entertain my company. No doubt they feel some disloyalty to me, given what I did though I felt it right at the time – and do, in fact, feel the same now.”

The softness of her voice made Henry’s heart quieten just a little and, with a glance back at her, he shrugged. “If you wish to, Mother, then I will not refuse the help.”

She smiled. “That is good. Of course I will do whatever you want me to do, my dear. But I can assure you that finding a young lady of the highest title will stand you in good stead. After all, such a young lady will be a good deal more inclined towards propriety and the like. Those from the lower titled families are a little too free with such things.”

Henry wanted to disagree, to state that daughters of Earls and of Viscounts knew just as well as the daughters of Dukes and Marquesses on how they ought to behave, but instead, chose to remain silent.

“Now, there is a soiree this evening that I think you should attend,” his mother continued, making her way to the door, her voice a good deal lighter now that the difficult part of the conversation was at an end. “Though if you do not wish to do so, then I will inform those present – well, those who are suitable, of course, about your current desire to find a bride. You will soon have many interested parties, I am sure.” With a smile and a wave, she quit the room, leaving Henry alone to face the quietness of the room once more.

His heart was beating a little too quickly for his liking and he closed his eyes, taking in a few, long breaths so as to steady himself. He had not wanted to come back to London. He had not wanted to set foot in this place again and yet, he had forced himself to do so. Responsibility told him that he had no other choice and thus – much to his mother’s delight – he had made the arrangements. She had thought that he would be throwing himself back into society, that he would be attending soirees, dancing with as many young ladies as he could every evening and doing just as much as he could to make an impression upon the ton. Instead, he had stayed in his townhouse and chosen to step out only in the evenings, to go to Whites where he sat in almost the very same solitude as he sat in now.

Somehow, he had to find a bride and he had to do it without making his presence obvious to the ton.

Scowling, Henry sat up straight and, after a moment, picked up his quill and inkwell. Setting out a fresh piece of paper, he paused for another moment and then began to write. Yes, his mother said she would be of aid to him but Henry had every intention of doing things the way he wanted also. After a few moments, his quill began to scratch across the paper as he wrote out a few sentences, and, setting his quill back down again, considered what he had written. A grim smile settled on his face as he folded it up carefully. A wax seal contained his words carefully and, getting up to ring the bell, Henry prepared himself inwardly for what was to come.

“Take this to The Morning Chronicle,” Henry instructed his butler, who took it without a word. Watching the man depart, Henry let out a small breath of relief and walking across the room, poured himself a small brandy. What was to follow, he did not know, but he hoped that it would soon bring him the response that he hoped for.

***

“The Morning Chronicle?”

Henry lifted an eyebrow as his mother dropped the newspaper down in front of his nose. “Good morning, Mother,” he said, mildly. “Is there something the matter?”

“I cannot believe that this was written by someone else,” she stated, her hands going to her hips as her eyes flashed. “Society are, on the whole, unaware of your presence here in London and certainly no gentleman in Whites would have written something like this!”

Henry shrugged. “It seemed to me the best thing to do. It means that I do not have to worry about stepping out into society.”

“But I said that I would be of aid to you!” his mother exclaimed. “That is what I did! I was at the soiree last evening and spoke to a great many others and – ”

“And that is good and it will confirm all that I have said in the Morning Chronicle,” Henry interrupted. “I think that I have done rather well, all things considered.” He waited for a few moments before picking up his fork and continuing to eat his breakfast. After speaking with his mother the day before, he had decided to write a short note to The Morning Chronicle, knowing that it would be published in the gossip column. He had not been disappointed.

“You were certainly not at all subtle!” Picking up the newspaper again, his mother opened it up to the correct page, and then cleared her throat. “‘It is said that the Duke of Fairglen has returned to London some three years since he was last present. Rumour has it that he is seeking a new bride and this author believes that any interested parties ought to speak to the Duke himself directly.’” She arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes flashing with obvious annoyance. “Why would you do such a thing as that?”

“Because, as I already told you, I intend to make certain that I find myself a bride. And before you ask, yes I am well aware that you have offered your assistance and while I am grateful for it in whatever form that may take,  I will also continue to do things in my own way.” He gestured to the newspaper. “That is my own way.”

His mother let out a huff of breath and shook her head, clearly still displeased.

“Now, are you to sit and break your fast with me or are you going to stand there in displeasure and continue to rail at me for something that cannot be changed?” Henry smiled to himself as his mother eventually chose to take a seat, though he ducked his head so that she would not see it.

“You expect to have many callers this afternoon then, I suppose?” she asked, reaching to pour herself a cup of tea. “You know that you will be assaulted by mothers and daughters, gentlemen and their sisters, do you not?”

Henry shook his head. “No, I will not be assaulted. I intend to inform the butler to tell all the callers that I am out of the house at the present moment and will not be back for some time. Thereafter, he will take their calling cards and I will go through each and every one to determine whether they are suitable or not.”

His mother lifted an eyebrow. “And you will only take those of high standing, I presume?”

Henry ignored this question, all too aware of his mother’s determination to continually bring this matter to mind.

“Well, I shall look through the business cards with you and assist you in choosing who should be permitted to come to call,” she said briskly, though Henry silently determined that this was not the sort of thing which he would permit to happen. “I do hope you will take a good deal more care this time, Fairglen.”

Growing weary of his mother’s remarks, Henry got to his feet and made his way to the door. “I am sure I shall, Mother,” he said, opening the door. “All we can do now is wait and see.”