Page 11 of The Duke In My Bed (The Heirs’ Club of Scoundrels #1)

Bray had had enough of people worrying him about his duty to Miss Prim.

While he took another sip of his drink and pondered the idea of telling all three men exactly where they could shove their curiosity and their wagers, another gentleman walked up and joined the trio.

Bray immediately recognized the tall portly man as Mr. Alfred Hopscotch, one of the Prince’s attendants.

On the occasions Bray had been in the Prince’s company, Mr. Hopscotch was always hovering around, ready to do the heir to the throne’s bidding.

Bray rose, thinking he was about to see the Prince make a rare appearance at White’s.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace, my lord, and gentlemen,” Mr. Hopscotch said, and gave a stiff bow toward Bray.

Everyone issued their greetings to the newcomer. It was clear Lord Sanburne didn’t know the man well, because he immediately asked him if he had just arrived and if it was still raining.

Mr. Hopscotch politely answered and then, not giving Sanburne opportunity for more questions, he said, “Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, gentlemen. I’m sure it was most important, but I wonder if it might be possible for me to speak to the duke alone for a few minutes.”

After the trio grumbled their good-byes, Mr. Hopscotch looked at Bray and said, “I had a devil of a time finding you today, Your Grace. I waited at your home most of the afternoon for your return. I then went to the Heirs’ Club because I was told you prefer it to all the other clubs where you hold membership.

Finally I gave up and came here, which was obviously the right thing to do. ”

It struck Bray as odd that the man had gone to such lengths to find him. “I do change my routine from time to time.”

“I’ll remember that. May I sit down and join you, Your Grace?”

Bray nodded and looked toward the door as they sat down. The Prince was still nowhere in sight, so he questioned, “Will the Prince be joining us?”

“No, no, not this time, but I am here on his behalf.”

Interesting.

“What will you drink?” Bray asked.

“Oh, nothing for me,” the man said, brushing a hand down the ends of his neckcloth. “I never take a sip when I’m on official business for the Prince.”

Official business?

Bray had to admit he was curious. He had talked with the Prince on several occasions and they had even played a few games of cards together, but he couldn’t say he knew the man well.

The Regent had also sent a personal note of condolence when Bray’s father died, but he had never personally sought Bray out before.

“How is the Prince?” Bray asked.

“Well, quite well, but he will be even better once he knows he can count on you.”

Bray knew he hadn’t stepped into the political realm that was expected of a duke, but there were other pressing matters that needed to be handled first. It was important that he make visits to all his estates and meet with all his managers and collect information on all that he had taken charge of since his father’s passing.

“Surely the Prince doesn’t doubt my loyalty to the Crown.”

“No, of course not, but before we go further, I have to say that anything we discuss must be kept in the strictest of confidences. You understand, don’t you?”

“I think the Prince knows that or you wouldn’t be here.”

“True. The Prince will be glad to hear that.” The man smiled. “But it must be said so there is no doubt or future chance for misunderstandings among us.”

Bray’s curiosity moved over to suspiciousness. What could the Prince possibly want with him?

“Understood.”

“Good.” Mr. Hopscotch ran his hand down his perfectly tied neckcloth again. “It seems the Prince has wagered on whether or not you will be wed to Miss Prim by the end of the Season.”

Bray eyed the man coldly. “I’m told every gentleman in London has placed his bets.”

He knew the Prince was an excellent gambler by instinct and a rabid gambler by choice, but he thought the Prince usually stayed away from the bizarre wagers. And Bray put whether or not he would marry Miss Prim into that category.

“When do you plan to marry her?”

“That hasn’t been settled,” Bray said lightly.

“We know. That’s exactly why I’m here. The Prince would like for it to be.” He leaned forward and added, “Soon.”

Bray grimaced. He didn’t like the way the man had said the last word, as if he were giving an order he expected to be obeyed. Bray had never been any good at obeying.

Mr. Hopscotch relaxed in the chair again and continued. “Most definitely before the end of the Season, he would like to see you not just engaged but married to Miss Prim.”

“The Prince thinks he has a say in this,” Bray said cautiously, his suspicions growing.

The man smiled. “He believes so, yes.”

Bray studied the man’s eyes, which stayed steady as a rock. “Why?”

Mr. Hopscotch looked around the room as if to make sure no ears were within hearing distance and then said, “He was recently having dinner with the Duke of Norfolk and the Duke of York as well as some other gentlemen. They managed to get a friendly wager going as to whether you would make good on your promise to Lord Wayebury to marry his sister.”

Bray remained passive. He thought this visit was political. He’d heard a lot of rumors about the Prince over the years, but he’d always given them a wide-open window of doubt because Bray was very familiar with how far rumors could stray from the truth.

“The Prince should have better things to do with his time than indulge in such frivolities.”

“Smirk if you want, Your Grace, but the gossip behind this story of you and Miss Prim is riveting, is it not?”

“Riveting?” Bray laughed.

Mr. Hopscotch shrugged nonchalantly. “There is always drama in a deathbed vow. It is the most talked-about wager in London—and with good reason, is it not?”

“I have no idea,” Bray said tightly.

“Perhaps it doesn’t take much to amuse Londoners. But you do know what they say.” The man paused.

Bray deliberately took the bait and said, “No, what do they say?”

“A promise made is a debt unpaid, and some people don’t think the duke will pay this debt. The Prince happens to think you will. Naturally, he knew your father well and knows you are as honorable as your father. He has no doubt you will do the right thing and wed Miss Prim.”

Just so the Prince can win a wager?

Bray knew the Prince’s arrogance had few boundaries, but this was actually off the charts.

“If I don’t, I’m sure he will recover from the losses,” Bray offered.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

That’s what Bray was afraid of. “How so?”

“That isn’t for you to know. The Prince will take care of everything else. All you need to do is what you are honor-bound to do anyway, and that is to marry Miss Prim—and by the end of the Season. Can I have your word on that?”

“No,” Bray said without hesitating. “I don’t make promises anymore. You can tell that to the Prince.”

“That is not the answer he wants me to take back to him.”

“I understand. But that’s it.”

Just hours ago, Bray had told Miss Prim she would have to propose to him, so there was no way he was going back to her and asking her once again to marry him. Not even for the Prince. Miss Prim was a strong-minded young lady and would not be easily swayed from her stance or fooled.

“Why?” Mr. Hopscotch held out his hands. “It is a simple matter to you. You live up to your word as your father before you always lived up to his word.”

Bray’s jaw tightened. He needed no lectures about honor. He’d received enough of them when he was growing up. Besides, he’d done the honorable thing. He’d told Miss Prim he was willing to marry her. She was the one who had other ideas. And he was happy she did.

“I don’t take marriage lightly, and neither does Miss Prim.”

“Of course. Take your time so long as you make the Prince happy by the end of the Season.” Mr. Hopscotch rose.

“He wants you to know he will be forever in your debt and at your service should you ever need him. Now, I hope to see proof of your upcoming nuptials in print in the next few days. Good day, Your Grace.”

“The devil take it.” Bray swore under his breath as he watched the robust man casually walk away as if they had talked about nothing other than the lousy weather. What the hell was the Prince trying to do in strong-arming him about Miss Prim?

Everyone knew Bray wasn’t easily intimidated.

Not by Mr. Hopscotch or the Prince. But he shouldn’t be surprised that the Prince thought he could easily coerce him into doing his bidding, because most people would jump at the chance to please the Prince.

They had both better think again. Not even his father had been successful in making Bray do anything he didn’t want to do.

He picked up his wine and downed half of it. The Prince would just have to do what every other gentleman did and pay his own gambling debts or suffer the consequences.

Whatever they may be.

Bray had no doubt he could eventually talk Miss Prim into marrying him, but did he want to?

At least he now knew she was more than attractive and would not be an unwelcome bedmate.

He smiled as he thought of her sparkling blue eyes, tousled sunset-colored hair, and full desirable lips.

No, he’d have no problem at all taking Miss Prim into his bedchamber.

Bray looked around the room for a server so he could order another glass of wine and saw Seaton leaning against the doorframe. His arms were folded across his chest, and one foot lay crossed over the other ankle. He looked quite perturbed.

“Oh, hell,” Bray whispered to himself. The next time he wanted a drink and a little peace, he’d have to go home to find them.