Duke Looks Like a Groomsman Read online

  Duke Looks Like a Groomsman

  Valerie Bowman

  June Third Enterprises, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Duke Looks Like a Groomsman, copyright ® 2020 by June Third Enterprises, LLC.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Print edition ISBN: 978-0-9893758-7-0

  Digital edition ISBN: 978-0-9893758-4-9

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  Book Cover Design © Lyndsey Llewellen at Llewellen Designs.

  For my friend Vickie Lambert, who I miss every day.

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  Colon Cancer Coalition: Colon Cancer Nonprofit

  coloncancercoalition.org

  He’s posing as a groomsman

  Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, has bet his friends an ungodly sum of money that despite his loftiness, he can pass himself off as a servant at the house party of the Season. But when his clever ex-flame arrives and recognizes Rhys in the stables pretending to be a groomsman, she realizes it’s the perfect opportunity to pay him back for breaking off their engagement.

  She’s the bride-to-be

  The lovely Lady Julianna Montgomery may be the only young woman at the house party who’s not in the market for a husband. She’s quite happily engaged to a marquess, thank you very much, and scarcely remembers the pain of being callously tossed over by the Duke of Worthington nearly two long years ago—till now.

  All bets are off

  Rhys seems to be everywhere, flexing his muscles, laboring in the sun—and Julianna has never found him more appealing. With his signature charm, he persuades her to keep his secret. But when she learns he’s determined to win a bet of honor, she can’t resist playing a game of her own. She’ll spend the next fortnight tempting Rhys at every turn and making him lose his precious wager. Even if it means she must lose her heart in the process…

  The Players

  Lucas Drake, the Earl of Kendall

  Dark-brown-haired, green-eyed, former navy hero turned earl, who needs to find a lady to make a countess. His friends cook up an insane plot to help him.

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  Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington

  (aka Worth)

  Black-haired, dark-blue-eyed, devil-may-care rake and gambler with a love of horses. He’s tall, dark, and handsome and has a past with a certain lady, who may just be bent on revenge when the perfect opportunity presents itself.

  Beaumont Bellham, the Marquess of Bellingham

  (aka Bell)

  Blond-haired, light-blue-eyed, in control of everything in his world. Bell is a spy for the Home Office, and nothing misses his notice, that is until he just might meet his match in the most unexpected of places.

  Miss Frances Wharton, daughter of Baron Winfield

  Brown-haired and eyed, she’s determined to fight for the rights of the poor, has a tiny dowry, reads too much, and is too particular according to her mother. Frances has no interest in marriage until she meets a footman who just might change her mind.

  Lady Julianna Montgomery, daughter of the Duke of Montlake

  Blond-haired, light-green-eyed Lady Julianna is gorgeous, rich, and comes from an excellent family. Once considered the best catch of the Season, she’s happily engaged to the Marquess of Murdock. But when she finds her ex-flame, Worth, pretending to be a groom in the stables at a house party, she decides it’s the perfect opportunity to pay him back for jilting her.

  Ewan Fairchild, Viscount Clayton

  Boon companion to Kendall, Worth, and Bell, and host of the infamous summer house party. Married to his true love, Theodora, whom he met when she broke her leg trying to sneak into his stables.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Also by Valerie Bowman

  Let’s Keep in Touch

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  The Footmen’s Club Trilogy consists of the stories of the Earl of Kendall (book 1, The Footman and I), the Duke of Worthington (book 2, Duke Looks Like a Groomsman), and the Marquess of Bellingham (book 3, The Valet Who Loved Me).

  The prologue of each book is the same scene written from each hero’s point of view. Rest assured, with the exception of the prologue, no other content or scene is repeated.

  If you haven’t read the other books, the prologue will help you understand the origin of The Footmen’s Club. If you have read the other books, the prologue will give you a bit more insight into the hero of that book.

  Thanks for reading!

  Valerie

  Prologue

  London, July 1814

  Rhys Sheffield, the Duke of Worthington, was having a fine evening. True, that all his evenings were fine, as they usually included drinks with friends and then a jaunt to Hollister’s gaming hell where he usually lost a small fortune in the span of a few hours. Tonight, he was enjoying the drinks-with-friends portion of the evening at the Curious Goat Inn. A decent little place outside of Mayfair where he and Kendall, Bell, and Clayton could drink and talk freely without being scrutinized by the other members of the ton. The Curious Goat was much preferred to any of those stodgy gentlemen’s clubs on St. James’s Street.

  Just before they’d entered the establishment, his friends had all exclaimed how glad they were to have him back to his old self. Until somewhat recently, he’d been someone different entirely. The headaches were a regular reminder. But that was something he didn’t relish thinking about, something he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.

  Rhys was ordering his third ale of the evening from a comely barmaid when Kendall, of all unexpected people, blurted, “I think it’s time I find a wife.”

  The heads of all three of them, himself, Bell, and Clayton, immediately snapped to face Kendall. They stared at the chap as if he’d lost his bloody mind.

  Never at a loss for words, Rhys found his voice first. He winced, sucked in his breath, shook his head vigorously, and said, “A wife? Good God, man! There’s no need to rush into anything so…permanent.”

&nbs
p; Kendall was a good man. After they’d all left Oxford together, Kendall had gone on to become a Commodore in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. But he hadn’t been gifted a commission by his father, the former earl. No. Kendall had worked his arse off. There was no one more diligent or more loyal. But the poor sop actually wanted a wife. Kendall should know better after his last attempt at marriage with the disloyal Lady Emily Foswell. Had he forgotten about her defection?

  “We’re not getting any younger,” Kendall shot back to Rhys.

  “On the contrary,” Rhys replied, “at nine and twenty, we’re pups. My father was over fifty when I was born.”

  His father had famously remained a bachelor for decades before settling down with his (much younger) mother, and dutifully producing Rhys. Of course, having begotten his heir, his father decided to continue his bachelor lifestyle, leaving Rhys’s resigned mother to her own amusements, of which she’d found plenty. As a result, Rhys had mainly been raised by servants, governesses, and tutors.

  His father would return to the ducal estate upon occasion to see how Rhys was growing, to ensure his son understood the enormity of his title, and to give him advice about women that Rhys seriously doubted was sound.

  It certainly hadn’t helped the one time that Rhys had come close to offering for a lady. A fate he’d narrowly escaped, having discovered the lady in question was interested in him only for his title. That was something else he pushed to the back of his mind every chance he got.

  Bell, or more correctly, Beaumont Bellham, the Marquess of Bellingham, was the next to speak to Kendall. Bell might have been a bachelor, but the man was essentially married to his position as a spy in the Home Office. The fool had even tried to renounce his title for a spot as a soldier in the wars against France. Thank God, he’d been turned down in his request.

  Instead, he’d been offered a position with the Home Office, where he was kept safe enough most of the time. Though Bell had been on some dangerous missions before and Rhys knew it.

  Bell was clever, direct, and driven. If the man had any fault, it was that he worked too much, for Christ’s sake. The marquess needed to relax more than anyone Rhys had ever known, and Rhys told him that often enough. Instead of taking such sound advice, however, Bell attempted to tell Rhys that he might try an honest day’s work instead of spending his time gaming and chasing women. Who needed that sort of advice?

  Bell narrowed his eyes on Kendall and said, “Are you certain you’re ready? It’s only been two years since….” Bell let his voice trail off, but they all knew he was talking about Lady Emily. The look on Kendall’s face told him to leave it alone.

  Finally, Clayton exclaimed, “Thank heavens. I cannot wait until I’m no longer the only one of us with the parson’s noose around his neck.”

  Rhys laughed at that. Clayton had recently got himself leg-shackled. On purpose. The viscount loved science and creating things. He was extremely wealthy, had yet to meet a stranger, and was an active member of Parliament. He was the last one they’d all thought would be first to marry. But even Rhys had to admit that marriage seemed to agree with the chap. Clayton had just returned from his honeymoon and he still appeared to be deeply in love with his wife, Theodora. Who knew? Perhaps love was a thing after all. At least for some gentlemen.

  Rhys took a draught from his mug and glanced around at his three friends. The four of them had met at Eton as lads and stuck together come what may. Each of them played a unique role in their group.

  These days Kendall was distracted by the bill he was trying to get passed in Parliament. The Employment Bill was a piece of legislation that his older brother had sponsored before dying of consumption and leaving the earldom to Kendall.

  Bell was obsessed with chasing after a traitor who had betrayed the English army at Bidassoa in Spain, and Clayton was busy as usual, hosting parties and playing politics, the two things he did best.

  Rhys was well aware that he was the devil-may-care ne’er-do-well of the lot. He kept up his steady stream of drinking, gambling, and chasing women. That was what the ton expected of the Duke of Worthington, after all, and that’s what they got from him. He was one in a long line of dukes who spent more time seeing to their own pleasures than the details of their estates. That was what solicitors were for, after all, and Rhys had a fine solicitor. He even met with the man nearly daily to hear the boring details as to how his properties were running. What more could he be asked to do? Life was for living, after all, not keeping one’s head inside a tedious book of figures. Or any book for that matter. No matter how much Bell teased him for not reading, Rhys remained convinced just about anything was more fun.

  Rhys had a head for figures, but instead of using it to run his estates, he used it at the gambling table. Only far too often he was too deep in his cups at the gambling table and he lost. But no matter. What was lost today might easily be won again tomorrow. That was the beauty of gaming. There was always a second chance. Quite unlike marriage.

  If one made a bad marriage, one was stuck for life. And, as he’d learned, some women were nothing more than scheming liars looking to rope in the biggest fish. And in their world, the glittering beau monde, the biggest fish meant the man with the best title. Outside of royalty, there was no better title than duke, of course. That had been drilled into Rhys’s head by his father from the time he was barely able to walk. Rhys had to be especially careful when it came to the fairer sex.

  And he had been. Or so he thought.

  Unlike Kendall, at least Rhys hadn’t actually offered for the woman he’d nearly fallen for. Rhys had always been suspicious of Lady Emily Foswell for Kendall’s sake, however. The woman had never seemed particularly pleased to see Kendall. And when she tossed him over on the eve of their wedding for a baron, Rhys had been incensed. Angrier, even, than Kendall himself.

  Kendall, who, at the time, had been a second son in the Navy, had taken the news with a sort of resigned unhappiness, but Rhys, Rhys had been prepared to go find the woman and give her a speech on the importance of loyalty and the treachery of greed. Not that he should be lecturing anyone on anything, but Kendall had every right.

  The one thing that consoled Rhys was the fact that now Lady Emily had to live the rest of her life knowing she’d inadvertently tossed over a future earl for a baron. Ha.

  “I’m entirely serious,” Kendall continued. “I must look to secure the earldom. I fear I’ve been too preoccupied with the Employment Bill. I’ve been remiss waiting this long to find a bride.”

  “I certainly won’t disagree with you that you’ve been too preoccupied with the Employment Bill,” Rhys replied with a snort. “‘Obsessed’ is more like it.”

  Kendall shrugged. “Well, now that the Lords have tabled the vote until the autumn session, I have more time to rally the support I need. I might as well get about the business of looking for a wife in earnest.”

  “I never bother to vote in Parliament,” Rhys replied. “Don’t happen to care for the hours. And all the arguing is downright exhausting.”

  Bell gave him a beleaguered look and shook his head. “God forbid you take an interest in your seat or any of the issues the country is dealing with.”

  Rhys gave them his most charming grin. “I’m entirely confident you chaps can handle it,” he replied, clapping Bell on the back.

  “When the time comes for the vote for my brother’s bill,” Kendall continued, addressing his remarks to Rhys, “I’ll drive to your town house and drag you out of bed myself.”

  Bell’s and Clayton’s laughter filled the alcove in which they were sitting. His friends knew Rhys disliked anything that involved his waking early in the morning.

  I’d like to see you try. But Rhys decided to keep that particular thought to himself.

  “Let’s not talk of such unpleasantness,” Rhys replied with a sigh. “You mentioned finding a bride, Kendall. That’s much more interesting. Now, how old are you again?” He shoved back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, narr
owing his eyes at the earl.

  Rhys knew as well as the rest of them that they were the same age save for a matter of months. He loved to pretend he’d forgotten how old they were. Age is a number without meaning. A line his father had often used.

  Kendall arched his brow. “The same age you are, old man.”

  “Well, then,” Rhys declared. “You’ve plenty of time to find a wife as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That’s easy to say, coming from a man who’s never given a toss about securing his own title,” Kendall shot back, with a good-natured grin.

  Rhys returned the smile with a devilish one of his own. “I cannot argue with you there.” He turned and gave the barmaid his even more charming smile, the one he saved exclusively for women, as he ordered another round of ale for the table.

  “Yes, well, if you’re seriously looking for a wife, Kendall, the Season has just ended,” Clayton interjected. “It seems you’ve missed your chance. The entire ton is about to retire to the country as soon as Parliament closes next week.”