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C harles arrived to Grosvenor Square a little bit on the early side. Not too early, as that would inconvenience the host and he intended to stay in the duke’s good books. But hopefully early enough to beat Thorpe inside the doors.

He wore his best set of clothes which, thanks to his own duke’s generosity, had been tailored by Weston himself for an exorbitant price.

He could not recall when he’d attended a dinner that Thorpe also attended.

In general, they traveled in different circles.

Thorpe preferred the stodgy end of the ton and Charles preferred the more interesting end.

Thorpe preferred the coffee room at Whites, while Charles preferred to take his opportunities on the dark walk at Vauxhall.

Thorpe preferred to enter a horse at Doncaster, Charles preferred to while away the night and early dawn in a low gaming hell.

But here they both would be. This particular dinner would prove to be interesting. Charles was convinced that Thorpe had a strong interest in Lady Serenity, and therefore, so did he.

Charles supposed Thorpe would be frustrated when he realized his brother had sent a sketch of the mysterious dog, Nero.

It was a personal gift and very suited to Lady Serenity—his brother would never have been so clever.

If Thorpe dared to claim Nero had never existed, he would sadly shake his head and wonder at his brother’s disregard for animals.

How anyone could forget such a dog as Nero was beyond comprehension. Let Thorpe argue further if he dared.

Charles hoped Lady Serenity’s dog would make an appearance so he could praise it to the skies.

One would not usually expect the household’s dog to turn up at a dinner, but this was the Nicolet household, so he had every hope of it.

He must just mask his revulsion over the idea that it was missing a leg.

He used the door knocker and the door swung open to reveal an odd-looking butler. He could not tell if the fellow was deformed or had something stuffed underneath the left side of his coat. It was most peculiar. “Lord Charles Garner,” he said.

“This way, my lord.”

Charles followed the odd butler, whose eyes seemed to dart all over the great hall as if he were expecting somebody to jump out at him.

The fellow opened the drawing room doors to a crowd of people. “Lord Charles Garner,” the butler said flatly.

It was an entire room full of women, right down to one who could not be older than nine or ten. Two he recognized, Lady Felicity and Lady Grace. Lady Grace came forward. “Lord Charles, I believe we met last season at Lady Peachbottom’s musical evening.”

“Indeed, Lady Grace, charmed,” he said with a bow. Though there was an unusual number of women in the room and no sign of Lady Serenity, there was also no sign yet of Thorpe.

Lady Grace made the introductions, though Charles did not think he had a hope of remembering all their names. Except perhaps for the youngest—Lady Valor glared at him as if he were a housebreaker come to steal their belongings.

“Goodness, I am coming in late,” Lady Serenity said, hurrying into the room.

“But you have still beat Papa,” Lady One-of-the-sisters said.

Lady Another-of-the-sisters said, “It is a usual thing for a duke to run late.”

Was it?

The duke strode in. “I see we’ve gathered one and wait for the other one.”

“And we wait for Stratton and Dashlend too, Papa,” Lady Felicity said. “They come together from their club. There was some critical meeting in the offing.”

“However,” Lady Grace said, “they have both sworn they will not be late.”

Charles was vaguely acquainted with both of those individuals. Dashlend was known as a Corinthian of the first stare. Stratton was one of those fellows who was a ‘hail fellow, well met’ sort that everybody liked.

They were not to wait long for at least one of the missing guests. The butler with a bulge under his coat reappeared and said, “The Marquess of Thorpe.”

Irritating. Why could not the man just say Lord Thorpe? Why did he insist on bringing his full title into it?

Thorpe bowed. “Your Grace,” he said. Then he greeted Lady Serenity, and proceeded to greet each and every sister. How did he remember their names?

Stratton and Dashlend came into the room in a rush, not having waited for the strange butler to announce them. “We are not late, I think?” Stratton said.

“No, no, here we all are,” the duke said. “Well, let’s get going to the dining room. Fingers crossed that the current resident butler has got it all sorted. But who knows?”

With that interesting idea, they proceeded to follow the duke across the great hall. Charles had intended to escort Lady Serenity in, but somehow Lady Grace got in his way and Thorpe was able to beat him to it.

They found the butler anxiously staring at the sideboard. There were place cards at the seats and Charles was at least gratified that he should be to the right of Lady Serenity. Less gratified that Thorpe was to her left.

The footmen brought the wine around while the butler stared at his staff as if he did not know what they were doing.

The duke looked down his table and said, “You see how it is, I’m surrounded by daughters. Even when I get them out of the house, they somehow get back in it again.”

The duke’s daughters seemed to find this very amusing, though Charles wondered at it.

The doors, which had not been entirely shut closed, slowly pushed open.

Charles looked behind him. There he was—the three-legged dog.

A missing leg was not his only deficiency either.

He was clearly of low parentage, his coat was neither straight nor curled, one eye was clouded over, and its tongue, which just now lolled out of its mouth, was really far too long. The thing was hideous.

“Ah,” he said to Lady Serenity, “there is your dear Nelson.”

Lady Serenity nodded. “Lord Thorpe was so good as to have a collar made for him that explains where to return him on the underside of it.”

Did he, now. That was rather more clever than he’d imagined Thorpe would be. He kicked himself that he had not thought of it.

“Very thoughtful,” Charles said.

Lady Serenity nodded. “Dear Nelson has made a friend in Lord Thorpe’s Havoc. It is just a shame that he will never have the opportunity to meet your dear Nero.”

What was this now? When had Lady Serenity’s dog met Thorpe’s mastiff? Charles presumed the dogs had not met on their own. Certainly their owners had been present. How had that happened?

Thorpe, looking very pleased with himself, leaned forward and said to him, “Nelson and Havoc took a turn around the square.”

The duke laughed and said, “It’s to be a regular thing is my understanding.”

A regular thing? How was Thorpe getting a leg up on him? It was intolerable.

He supposed his brother had the advantage of location. Charles was at The Albany while Thorpe was two doors down.

Charles briefly thought of relocating himself into the Grosvenor Square house.

He had the right to it. But he could not tolerate the irritation that would come along with that idea.

He would not inherit that house, could not lord it over that house, and could not stand to watch Thorpe in the position of lord of the manor.

“We decided that since Havoc and Nelson got on so well,” Lady Serenity said, “they should have future opportunities to meet.”

Future opportunities to meet. How many opportunities?

Lady Serenity turned to Thorpe. “Goodness, I forgot to say. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Right, did advise that we not walk out if it is raining.”

“Ah yes, very good thought,” Thorpe said. “Though I suppose we ought to qualify what we mean by rain. I suppose a misting would not put us off?”

“Oh, a misting,” Lady Serenity said. “I hadn’t thought. Goodness, there really is not anything too inconvenient about a misting.”

Charles willed his eyes to not roll back in his head over the current debate. A misting, indeed.

Just then, the horrendous-looking cur sat on his foot underneath the table. Charles shook it off. It staggered and then came back and bit at the leather of his boot. Then it moved off before he was forced to kick it halfway across the room.

This situation must be turned round somehow. Thorpe was beating him at a game and it must not be allowed to continue. His brother looked very smug at the moment.

He was not certain what he ought to do about it, but these walks with their two stupid dogs must not be allowed to go on. Thorpe could not be allowed to win.

*

Roland had not known who else would be invited to the dinner, but it turned out to be a family affair.

He found that rather promising. Stratton and Dashlend were both fine fellows.

He supposed the duke was too, though rather an eccentric version of a fine fellow.

The only gentleman attending who was not a particularly fine fellow was his brother Charles.

He was not certain whether it was for good or ill that Charles had been apprised of his walks with Lady Serenity.

It would be hoped that Charles would take the hint and turn his attention elsewhere.

On the other hand, his brother was not very skilled at being a gracious loser and as far as Charles was concerned, everything in the world was a win or lose proposition.

The duke’s table had been rather good. Roasts of beef and fowl, fricasseed chicken, thin-sliced potatoes in a creamed sauce, mashed parsnips, mushroom tartlets, Brussel sprouts with sauteed onions, rolls, and a chopped salad.

It was the sort of thing one might have in the country—good food, not too fussy.

He’d not paid much attention to the various cakes and trifles that came out, but the cheeseboard had been first rate.

As well, the duke must have one of the finest wine cellars in Town.