Page 38 of Dukes All Night Long

Fin

F in hadn’t slept. How could he?

Not after returning home in the wee hours of the morning after they’d completed the mission, still smelling of her and tasting her on his lips.

His brother had staggered in soon after, drunk and loud—some future duke he was shaping up to be.

Fin loved him, in the obligatory familial sense, but they couldn’t be more different.

Thomas was entitled, reckless, and coddled by years of their father’s indulgence.

A miracle he hadn’t ruined more lives than he already had.

Fin paced his room for hours, pulse still thrumming from her.

He shouldn’t have touched her or allowed her to touch him.

Not when so much between them remained unresolved.

And yet, he couldn’t regret it. Not when she’d clung to him.

Not when she’d looked at him the same way as she did the first time he’d kissed her on the Fletchers’ terrace.

He took a breakfast tray alone in his chamber, avoiding both his father and brother. He couldn’t afford any unpleasant distractions today. Not when he’d made up his mind.

He was going to ask for Jenny’s hand.

The idea had gnawed at him all night, pacing circles in his head. He’d call on Jenny’s brother Viscount Snowdon, lay out everything about his brother’s scandal and his father’s manipulation, and hope that the man might listen.

But if fate had played fair, Jenny would already be his wife.

He dressed with particular care, selecting his most perfectly tailored coat. Appearing the picture of a duke’s son couldn’t hurt his chances of winning over the lady’s brother. His valet raised an eyebrow at Fin’ inability to stand still, but wisely said nothing.

The carriage ride to the Snowdon townhouse passed in a blur. Fin mentally rehearsed his words for the viscount until they lost all meaning.

When he reached the front steps, he squared his shoulders and rapped the knocker.

The butler opened the door with a face carved from stone, though Fin caught the flicker of recognition, and perhaps judgment, in his eyes.

“Lord Reid to see Viscount Snowdon. On an urgent matter.”

“I shall see if his lordship is receiving,” the butler said coolly, accepting Fin’s card. “Wait in the foyer.”

Fin clasped his hands behind his back to keep from pacing. Minutes dragged. He hoped Jenny might descend the staircase and he could catch a glimpse of her to steady himself.

Finally, the butler returned. “This way, my lord.”

He was led past the staircase, the sound of children’s laughter echoing above. It made the home feel happy, welcoming in a way. Like a real family.

The viscount’s study was tidy and imposing. Lord Snowdon didn’t look up from his papers as Fin entered. The butler closed the door with a soft click that might as well have been a warning shot.

“Lord Reid,” Snowdon said at last, setting down his quill. “I confess I’m surprised to find you calling at my home.”

Fin stepped forward. “I appreciate your time, my lord. I’ve come due to a matter of great importance.”

Snowdon arched a brow. “Do enlighten me.”

Fin cleared his throat. No more rehearsed speeches. Just the truth.

“I’ve come to ask for your permission to propose to Lady Jenny.”

The change in Snowdon’s expression was immediate. His mild disinterest sharpened into fury as he rose slowly from behind his desk.

“You dare,” he growled, “to enter my home and request my sister’s hand? After all you’ve done?”

Fin held his ground. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand well enough!” Snowdon snapped, stepping out from behind the desk. “My sister was despondent after your vile behavior was made public.”

“That isn’t the truth of what happened,” Fin said firmly. A sliver of doubt crept in that the viscount might actually hear him out.

Snowdon studied him, gaze sharp as a blade. “Then explain yourself. Quickly. Before I have you thrown out.”

Fin told him everything—his brother’s affair, the child, the lies their father spun to protect the heir. His own forced exile. The silence that followed burned.

“Convenient,” Snowdon finally said, arms folded. “Your father and brother would no doubt say otherwise, so how do I know if any of it is true?”

“Because I love your sister. I did then, and I do now. And I believe she still feels something for me,” he pleaded. “All I’m asking for is a chance to prove to her and your entire family that I shall love her for the rest of my days.”

Snowdon’s gaze bore into him. The silence stretched into what felt like minutes, and it was deafening.

“No.”

Fin’s jaw tightened. He’d throttle the man if he thought it would get him any closer to his goal. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“I did. And it changes nothing. My sister deserves better than a man at the center of a scandal, no matter how poetic the excuses.”

Snowdon reached for the bell pull.

“I’ll see myself out,” Fin said coldly, straightening. “But know this, my lord—I won’t give up on her. Not again.”

“Then prepare yourself for disappointment!” Snowdon spat. “Because I will not let you near her without consequence.”

Fin strode from the study, heart pounding. He didn’t wait for the butler. He barreled into the carriage and slammed his fist against the side wall, fury and helplessness mixing in his chest like poison.

But this wasn’t over.

If Snowdon needed proof, then Fin would give it to him—starting with the man responsible for it all.

His father. The duke.

Once the carriage rolled to a stop, he stormed into his father’s townhouse and barked over his shoulder to their butler, “Is my father in his study?”

“Yes, my lord,” the butler called as he shut the door behind him.

Fin didn’t slow. He threw open the study doors with enough force to rattle the hinges. The Duke of Bedford looked up from his correspondence, surprise flickering across his face then quickly replaced by annoyance.

“I suppose this interruption is convenient. I was just about to send for you,” the duke said coldly. “We have matters to discuss.”

“My matter comes first!” Fin snapped, slamming the door behind him. He huffed, trying to calm the storm surging through him. “And it’s high time we spoke plainly, Father.”

The duke leaned back in his chair, studying his younger son with the detached interest one might afford an insect. “Very well. What matter is so urgent that it requires such a dramatic entrance?”

Fin stepped forward, palms flat on the massive desk. “I intend to marry Lady Jenny, the Earl of Snowdon’s daughter, and you’re going to tell Viscount Snowdon the truth. That I wasn’t the man in that scandal, and it was Thomas.”

A bark of laughter escaped the duke’s lips, the sound devoid of warmth or care. “You wish me to contradict the very story I cultivated to save your brother from ruin?” He shook his head, reaching for his brandy decanter. “You’ve always been idealistic, Fin, but I never took you for a fool.”

“I’m not asking you to stand in Hyde Park and shout it. Just tell the viscount. Privately.”

The duke poured himself a generous measure of amber liquid and swirled the glass in his hand.

“No.”

The word hit like a slap. And he was beyond tired of hearing at present. Fin’s hands curled into fists on the polished wood.

“Why not?” Fin practically growled. “Why can’t you help me just once after all I have sacrificed and done for the good of your goddamn title?”

“Because,” the duke said smoothly, taking a sip of his brandy, “you are to marry another.”

The floor dropped out from under him. His father had gone mad. That was the only explanation.

“No.”

At least he had finally been the one to speak the dratted word. “Whatever you’ve planned, count me out of it. I’m marrying Lady Jenny.”

The duke took another sip of brandy, unfazed. “You’re under the impression you have a choice. You don’t. Your brother has… entangled himself with Miss Crowley.”

“The baron’s daughter? That sounds like his fucking problem.”

“She lacks the connections Thomas requires as a future duke. But you’ll marry her. To make her respectable and keep things quiet.”

Fin stepped back, stunned. He drew a breath, squaring his shoulders. “I’m six-and-twenty. I’ll marry whom I please.”

“And I’m still your father. I’ll cut you off without a penny. No allowance. No inheritance. No estate. Let’s see how long love lasts when you can’t afford to keep a roof over her head.”

The words struck, but they didn’t shake his resolve. Not this time. He wasn’t entirely without funds, much to his father’s ignorance. But the fact his own father cared nothing for the happiness and well-being of his own son…that stung. Not that he should be surprised.

“You’d force me to give up the woman I love to make up for Thomas’s inability to keep his cock in his breeches?”

The duke refilled his glass, unmoved and smug. “The girl’s father has already agreed to the match. And at least she’s quite pretty. I’m sure you’ll do just fine bedding her.”

Fin turned away, disgusted by his father. His eyes locked on the family portrait above the fireplace—his father and brother front and center. He wasn’t even in it. Of course he wasn’t.

“I won’t do it,” he said, turning back. “Undo the agreement.”

“You refuse?” The duke’s voice dropped. “I don’t believe you understand our position, Fin. Lady Cecilia is with child—your brother’s child. Just as that innkeeper’s daughter was.”

“And that’s twice now, that we know of. You’d think the fool might learn how to prevent such situations by now. But sounds to me like he is the one who must marry her,” Fin spat. “Because I shall not.”

The duke studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ve always been more like your mother,” he said, his tone caught between accusation and something almost like pride.

“Stubborn. Principled.” He looked away briefly, a shadow crossing his face before his expression hardened again.

“She would have sided with you in this.”

Fin’s breath caught at the rare mention of his mother. The wound of her loss still ached, even after all these years. “Then why not honor her memory by doing what’s right?”

The duke set down his glass with deliberate calm. “Because I cannot afford such sentimentality. You will be cut off entirely if you continue to refuse. You have until the morning to come to your senses.”

Then the duke flashed Fin a smirk that made his blood boil.

“Besides,” his father began, “Lady Jenny would make an excellent duchess for your brother. It’s high time he married, and the daughter of an earl with her family’s connections would do perfectly. She’s quite easy on the eyes. I imagine Thomas will—”

Fin didn’t hear the rest. He pinned his father to the wall in an instant, his fist slamming into the man’s jaw.

The duke sputtered, dazed, but Fin leaned in, his voice low and deadly. “You go near her, and I swear I’ll finish what I started.”

He hit him again.

Then he turned and strode from the study without a backward glance.

He didn’t have time to waste.

His father would move quickly, and Fin had to think of something, and fast.