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ChapterOne

Anthony looked up at the humble town house his carriage had just stopped in front of. It looked well-tended to, yet lacking the flamboyant strappings of other town houses in the same area.

He had heard that the Viscount of Wynten was a responsible man and not a man given to frivolities. His house, at least on the outside, reflected that character.

There was no stray weed seen on the path to the house. Even the garden looked well-tended and he wondered how he was able to manage his household staff as well as his estate with no wife. He had heard the man lost his wife at the birth of their third daughter.

He climbed up the steps to the house and knocked, barely frowning when the butler startled at his appearance.

"I am here to see Lord Wynten. He is expecting me," he announced handing his hat and cape to the man.

"And who should I announce you as?" he asked, eyes still taking in his face.

"The Duke of Devlin."

At his title, the man straightened and hurried to his duty after handing him over to a parlor maid who spilled the tea she was tasked with pouring because she couldn't help but stare at him.

One might think that after six months of stares, he would be used to it but now as the Wynten house staff stared, he wanted to shrug on his coat and return home.

The scar brought him more attention than he was comfortable with and it got tiring trying to maintain an unbothered facade.

"Leave me," he told the girl as his temper was truly at its end.

She squeaked and moved quickly away. He growled, gritting his teeth at the fact that she would go on to spread rumors that he was really the Devil Duke they called him.

"Your Grace, he asks that you talk in his study," the butler announced a few minutes later.

He didn't dally and rose, admiring the simple yet elegant interior of the house.

When he finally met Lord Wynten, he shook the man's hand as he recalled few interactions with him in past years.

"You are welcome to my home, Your Grace," the Viscount smiled. "My have you grown. I haven't had the pleasure of your company since you were a mere school boy."

He smiled fondly at the memory.

"I was so sad to hear of your father's passing," he added. "He always seemed the sort that would live forever."

They laughed at that joke and at once he felt his earlier somber mood disappear.

"So on to business," Lord Wynten said seriously. "Your mother already informed me of your desire to take my daughter, Charity, to wife."

He nodded.

"I have heard many good things about her from my mother and then her friends who are matrons in theton. Her reputation precedes her."

The man smiled proudly at that.

"Yes, my Charity is indeed all that they say she is, but she is much too young. I am sure you know that."

"She is of age to marry. Twenty is already old by some standards," he told the man.

Lord Wynten frowned at that, obviously not taking kindly to the insinuation that something was wrong with his jewel for her to be unmarried.

"Yes, when the man is closer in age," he argued. "Her sister has been adamant on making a good match that is why she has yet to be spoken for."

It seemed the Viscount didn't intend to make things easy for him.

"I assure you, Lord Wynten, I will do no harm to your daughter," he said, playing his game. "She will want for nothing all the days of her life."