Lord David Barrington, Duke of Alford, swigged his port in disgust. On one side, Richard, Viscount Tetterly spoke of his upcoming nuptials as if his bride-to-be was a prized mare ripe for breeding. David could only discern that the miss in question was one of the Swann sisters, though he’d heard nothing of a betrothal. He shuddered at the thought of having to marry off seven women. He had only his sister, Cecile, to be concerned with. Ceecy was friendly with the Swanns. Surely she would have mentioned a wedding if one was in the offing.
He’d watched the family’s entrance earlier—Lord John Swann, the Earl of Cockswood, and his lady leading their flock of seven swans a’swimming through this social pond.
As much as he disliked the subject, truth be told, it was the only reason he was here for this forsaken parade of marriageable maids plumped and primed by their predatory mothers. He’d retreated to the card room to get away from the lot of them—only to be caught up in the discussion from the other side of the coin. .... Read More ...