Page 5 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)

T homas took a slow pull of whisky, the smoky bite a welcome distraction. His eyes moved across the room in time to catch two gentlemen looking at him.

He ought to be accustomed to the odd stares he received, but he still felt like a stag paraded through a tea shop—too large, too rough, and entirely misplaced.

Every instinct screamed to meet their gawping with a Highland glare that would send them scattering, but Lushton demanded diplomacy.

This sent his thoughts toward finding an English duchess .

Lady Hester and that surprising flash of storm in her eyes.

A refusal from her might itch, but if she proved immovable…

well, the ton overflowed with suitable, simpering alternatives.

He took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid burning a trail down his throat. He welcomed the distraction, the brief respite from his thoughts, but it was short-lived, for as soon as he set his tumbler down, her image was back in his mind as vivid as ever.

But even as the thought came, he knew it was a futile endeavor. He had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and Lady Hester was a rather good one.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed the two gentlemen approaching his table. It was only when they were upon him that he looked up, his gaze sharpening as he recognized them.

Isaac Glacion, Duke of Craton, settled into the chair opposite Thomas with a grin.

“Lushton, allow me to remedy parliamentary neglect.” He gestured to the sharp-featured man beside him.

“This the reprobate is Colin Caldwell, Duke of Copperton. Colin, meet Thomas Green, Duke of Lushton, though I still think of him as the finest factor in Scotland.”

Copperton offered him a smile and sat. “A pleasure finally made formal, Lushton. Parliament’s hallways are wretched for conversation.”

Thomas pushed the decanter toward them. “Join me. The whisky’s passable if ye can abide smoke without heather.”

“Don’t let his modesty fool you, Copperton,” Craton interjected as he accepted a glass.

“This man turned three hundred acres of my worst moorland into prime grazing. Found water where my English stewards swore none existed.” He raised his tumbler in salute.

“When he inherited Lushton last year, I lost a brilliant factor but gained a fine business partner. Our distillery venture near Inverness? Thriving under his eye.”

Copperton’s eyebrow arched. “From factor to duke? That’s a leap worthy of a novel.”

Thomas’ smile held a wry edge. “Fate’s a fickle wench as we say, but Craton’s right; the land teaches ye what ledgers daenae.” He poured Copperton’s measure generously. “Gentlemen, to partnerships old and new.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. But it was not to last, for Craton was not one to beat around the bush.

“So, when do we hear your wedding bells to Lady Hester Jensen?” he suddenly asked, his gaze sharp and assessing.

Thomas’s tumbler paused halfway to his lips, his eyes widening. He stared back at his friend, his mind racing.

Could it be that they had had a witness in the garden last night? The thought stilled him, and he felt a sudden urge to glance over his shoulder, as if expecting to see a pair of prying eyes.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm and composed. He was a duke, after all, and he would not be caught off guard by a bit of gossip.

“I see the English shrubberies are just as much of gossips as the people,” Thomas drawled. And the gentlemen laughed.

“You will be surprised at how quickly news spreads around here,” Copperton said.

“Oh, I think it’s positively alarming,” Thomas agreed. He took another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving his companions.

“As a matter of fact, our wives are good friends of Lady Hester’s. She shared the news, and our ladies told us,” Craton explained.

Ah, so that is how the news has spread. Through the ladies. Thomas felt a pang of disappointment at the thought, his smile faltering for a moment before he schooled his features once more.

“What an impressive chain,” Thomas said.

“But I must declare it quite convenient now that we will all be married to friends,” he added after another sip of his drink.

“We take it she’s accepted the proposal then?” Craton asked, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied Thomas.

“As a matter of fact, I am yet to know her decision,” he replied with a slight shrug.

“Well, women are inclined to take their time,” Copperton laughed. “Do you think she will accept?”

“Perhaps. I choose to have good faith.” Thomas took another sip of his drink.

“Now, that is quite the spirit,” Craton encouraged.

“The Scottish spirit,” Thomas supported.

The truth, however, was that Thomas did not feel as confident as he let on.

Still, Lady Hester was just one out of plenty of English women.

If she turned him down, he could always ask another.

He took another sip of his drink and swallowed hard, welcoming the distraction and the brief respite from his thoughts.

“But do ye mean it?” Craton sobered and asked him. “The offer you made,” he elaborated, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied Thomas.

“Why?” Thomas couldn’t help but return his friend’s question before answering. There was something rather skeptical about Craton’s demeanor, as if he were looking out for Lady Hester’s best interests.

Thomas, however, was not overly surprised by his friend’s sudden interrogation. Craton had always been brazenly direct and honest, a trait that Thomas admired and respected.

“Ye question me sincerity?”

Craton’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not look away. “Your proposal was abrupt; I do not recall you ever expressing interest in Lady Hester. I suppose I am quite surprised,” he admitted.

“Surely ye do not think that I play games?”

“I trusted you with my wealth once,” Craton said, his voice softening slightly. “And I trust you with my life, man. I do not think that you have any games in mind. I simply seek clarification.”

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “Then ye will know that I meant every word I said to Lady Hester last night. I wish to make her me duchess.”

He studied Thomas for a moment longer before nodding his satisfaction.

“You should call upon her then,” Copperton suggested, his voice breaking the silence that had descended upon the table.

“A little like following up on your proposal. Perhaps she will come to her decision earlier if she sees you again.”

Thomas felt a sudden surge of excitement at his friend’s words, and he smiled. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?