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“You know I have no choice.”

“Why?” He chuckled. “You know, I never took you as one who worried what people thought of you. So what if you’re from a common background? I am, and as you might have noticed, I’ve turned out just fine. People love me.”

“Yes, well, if you become a duke suddenly, then maybe you’ll have an idea what it’s like.”

“I shudder at the thought.” He grinned playfully. “But I will tell you this, if I ever have a long-lost uncle who dies suddenly and then bestows a title upon my burly shoulders, I know I won’t give a shit what people say. Am I a womanizer? Yes. Am I a rake? Yes! And thank you for noticing.”

“It’s not so easy as that,” Henry said bitterly. “My mother…”

“Wants what is best for you. She knows whom she raised. And she knows that half of what is said about you isn’t true. Well, maybe a little less than half, but still.”

“None of it is true,” Henry growled. “And I had hoped this marriage would prove it. Somehow, although I have no idea how it has happened, the rumors have only gotten worse.”

“I know.” Oliver chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, since marrying just four days ago, you’ve slept with half the household staff, most of the women in London, and now you spend your evenings by the docks, waiting for the new shipment of harlots and strumpets to come through, so you might bed them also.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“Really? Then why am I laughing so hard?”

Henry glared daggers at his friend, not at all appreciating how much joy he was having at his expense.

He’d had no choice but to get married. As his mother had pointed out, marrying a young lady with a respectable name was a surefire way to stop the rumors and ensure people took him seriously. He chose Lady Beatrice because of her name, and when she fled without a word, he settled on the sister for the same reason. Not a marriage he wanted but one he had to have.

Although, in hindsight, he supposed the reason for it all didn’t matter. He was in it now, trapped with no way out. That was assuming he wanted one…

“There you are!” a voice suddenly thundered across the tavern. It was a loud setting, filled with drunken patrons, so no one took any notice. Except for Henry, who recognized the voice immediately.

He glanced up, spotted his cousin, Graham, coming for him, suppressed a groan, and buried his head back in his mug of ale.

“Oh, great,” Oliver groaned. “Old carrot head himself.”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Graham fell into the seat across from Oliver. “We have a problem.”

“Good evening, Lord Talbot. Looking well,” Oliver said with a little too much sarcasm.

“Oliver…” Graham sneered before turning back to Henry. “I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”

“Meaning?”

Graham scoffed. “Please tell me you’re in a better mood than the last time I saw you, Cousin. I don’t much fancy being the messenger you shoot because you’re having a bad day.”

“Last time I saw you…?” Henry trailed off as he realized what Graham was referring to—their altercation at the wedding. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” Henry sighed. “I don’t have time to massage your feelings. You were in the wrong, and you know it.”

Graham sneered, and Henry thought he was about to counter. Thankfully, in this one rare instance, his cousin chose the higher ground. “It’s your clients in Westchester. They’re becoming unruly.”

Henry groaned. “Unruly? How?”

“Somehow, they’ve gotten it into their heads that you’re in debt. That this marriage of yours was a means to pay it off, but that you’ve still come up short. They’re hounding me for answers!”

“Debt?” Henry frowned. “Where would they get that idea?”

“Oh, you know how these common folk talk.” Graham shot Oliver a judgmental look. “They love to gossip. I’ve tried to quash it, but I’ve had little success. I fear soon some of your other clients might catch on.”

Henry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Why was there always something? The clients whom Graham spoke about were leaseholders, renting land in the north to farm on. Graham was in charge of managing these holdings, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing a very good job at. Not that it was his fault. Again, it was Henry’s past that was to blame and the rumors that came as if from nowhere and gathered like a storm at sea.