Page 44 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter One

SIX YEARS LATER

“T he place is near your estate, Your Grace. It is almost like an extension. The soil is rich, and there is a river that flows to the south of it,” Lord Fernwick narrated. From the drone of his voice and his dull expression, he was completely bored. But Theo knew better.

Baron Fernwick owned a great amount of property, but he was getting on in years, and his son was not as well-versed in handling their finances as Theo. It made sense that he wanted to sell some of his land.

The older nobleman was drumming his fingers on the table between them. The rhythm was insistent, an echo of his tapping his hand against his glass a moment ago and his foot against the floor a moment before that.

Lord Fernwick was never entirely still.

However, Theodore Dencourt, the Duke of Wolvesley, had never been anything but calm.

For a brief moment, there was a soothing silence in the private parlor of Whitehall House, London’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club.

“I can see that,” the Duke murmured noncommittally as he gently tilted his glass of brandy.

He straightened from his lounging posture, and the quiet clink of crystal against the table’s polished mahogany seemed to echo in the private parlor.

“Please do tell me when you’ll give me your decision, Your Grace. A few lords have expressed interest in purchasing the property,” the Baron said, the pitch of his voice slightly rising.

He took a large puff of his cigar, and its smell lingered in the air. It mingled with the fire crackling in the hearth not too far away from them.

The Duke raised an eyebrow. He could see the older man’s cheeks turning ruddy at his blatant show of disbelief. He used his commanding, broad frame to his advantage as he leaned closer to the Baron.

Theo was not too keen on following the rules, having his own independent assessment of everything around him.

His dark brown hair was longer than was considered fashionable, curling slightly below his shoulders. His eyes watched Fernwick closely, and it was certainly not lost on the older man.

“O-Of course, you’re my first choice. You will do well with the property, as it would seamlessly become an extension of yours,” Fernwick stammered, dabbing his brow with his monogrammed handkerchief. “However, I will not agree to any terms that will leave me at a disadvantage, Your Grace.”

Fernwick swirled the amber liquid in his glass before he downed the rest of it. Theo watched the whole thing with disdain.

“Disadvantage? You think that offering to delay the outright purchase by paying the lease puts you at a disadvantage?” Theo asked smoothly.

“I-It is not the amount that we agreed on,” the Baron protested.

“Money will continue coming to your coffers until I am ready to purchase it outright. You’ll own it for a few more years, while I ponder its long-term benefit to me. Then, if I do not purchase at the end of the lease, I will help you find other buyers.”

There was a long pause as each man observed the other. For a moment, Theo could hear the other sounds from within the club—laughter, the clinking of glass.

“You know full well that I am getting older.” The Baron finally broke the silence between them. “My son does not know how to bargain. In fact, between you and me, Your Grace, he is a wastrel.”

“And you know full well that it is not just between the two of us. Everyone knows of his proclivities,” the Duke said. “Wouldn’t you want a little bit of property left for him to settle in when the time comes?”

“While you make use of my property’s earnings on a lease?”

“Precisely,” Theo said, giving a faint smirk. He could see the end of the negotiation.

“You drive a hard bargain, Your Grace,” Fernwick conceded, shaking his head. He sighed heavily. “I accept your terms. If I am being completely honest, I’d rather you take it before I die.”

“A wise decision, My Lord,” the Duke agreed. Despite his satisfaction, his expression never changed. He would rather fight a duel than let people see through him. “Looking at you, you’ll live a long life, and you will realize that this arrangement has been in your favor.”

“Until you acquire the whole thing,” Fernwick said wearily.

“Well, there is that.” Theo nodded, before taking another swallow, finishing his drink.

Despite whatever differences they might have, the two men prepared to make a toast to seal their agreement.

Theo suspected that Fernwick was seeing the light. As for himself, the whole thing was a test. More farming land close to London was certainly desirable, but he wanted to know if it was worth the time and effort. He had other dealings to attend to.

Wealth? The Wolf Duke, as he was often referred to, had plenty.

Business? Enough and to spare to keep him busy to the end of his days.

Family? Never.

“You bastard!”

Both men bolted upright at the sudden commotion. Muffled voices became louder. Chairs scraped across the floor. There was a hum in the air that Theo could identify—the hint of impending violence.

They weren’t in that kind of club. He had been to the infamous ones, too, in search of adventure, but Whitehall House was generally dignified.

Theo exchanged a glance with Fernwick, and both quickly rose, prepared to fight and flee. Theo couldn’t help but chuckle. Fernwick, though he might be in his seventies, was far from frail.

Theo walked in the direction of the noise, while Fernwick followed.

The commotion came from the gentlemen’s club’s main room. There, Philip Cooke, the Earl of Longford, stood with his head held high, an infuriating smirk on his lips.

Would that man never give up his love of the limelight?

“Damn it, Longford,” Theo muttered at the sight of his friend urging another man, Lord Howard, to fight.

Howard looked like he was out of control, with his flushed and sweaty face and heaving chest, but he had a strong right hook that Philip had to be wary of.

“You dare insult my sister?” Howard demanded, diving toward the Earl and gripping the lapels of his undoubtedly expensive coat.

“I insulted her? No, my dear friend, that is where you are wrong. I would never insult a lady, least of all someone as delightful as Miss Grace. Your sister certainly made me happy when she told me that I had a charming smile! A lady of impeccable taste.”

Laughter erupted among the assembled gentlemen.

Whitehall House might be a respectable establishment, but the titled men who frequented it were generally waiting for a reason to be a little less so.

Howard was not as amused. His face had gotten redder if that was even possible. He pushed Philip hard, one fist raised and clenched as if ready to strike while the other continued to clutch the Earl’s lapels.

Theo could not help but step forward, making his presence known in the room. He reached for Howard’s wrist and gripped it hard before it could land a punch on his friend’s face.

“Stop it. Right now.”

Howard hesitated, his face still tight with anger, but Theo could also see the need to obey a duke. The Viscount knew better than to go against someone of a higher rank.

“Let go of him.”

Again, there was a pause, though the Duke could understand it. His friend was a rake, after all. He would have to talk to Philip after this, he promised himself.

Howard let out an angry yell before releasing Philip. His gaze dropped to the floor as he breathed hard to compose himself.

“If you have a grievance against Longford, handle it like a gentleman, not a brawler. No matter how tempting, fists are tools of brutes, Howard. A fight is not the way to handle this in Whitehall House, of all places.”

Theo could see how torn the gentlemen of the club were. There weren’t many thrilling encounters in Whitehall House. On the other hand, such a brawl would take the place’s honor a few notches down. Its reputation would be put into question. So, it was not a surprise to hear an eventual murmur of approval spreading across the room.

“You may want to go home if you still cannot control your temper,” the Duke advised, not unkindly but sternly.

Howard recognized his defeat. He exhaled and, with a clenched jaw, stormed out of Whitehall House. The door slammed shut.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the next few moments took away the last remnants of tension from the room.

The quiet conversation returned to the club, fell on it like a comforting cloak of familiarity. It was almost as if nothing had ever happened. Theo had too many worries in his head for him to have to deal with other people’s troubles.

He raked his fingers through his hair, his eyes scanning the room until they landed back on his friend.

Philip looked unrepentant. He still wore a grin as if he had not been affected by the threat of having that look wiped off his face. He smoothed his coat and pulled up his lapels. Chest out, he looked quite proud of himself.

Theo could only shake his head in disbelief.

“You certainly know how to ruin my fun, Your Grace.”

“Longford,” Theo began, the fingers of one hand rubbing his temple. “I cannot be there all the time to save you from your foolishness.”

“Don’t you love having me as your damsel in distress and being my knight? You’re certainly not a noble knight to all the women who have been falling at your feet, my friend. Despite your reputation as a cold-hearted duke.”

Theo raised his eyes heavenward. “One of these days, Longford, you will suffer the full consequences of your actions.”

“Oh, no. We are both aware that it will never happen,” Philip teased, grinning.

Annoyed, Theo was about to protest his friend’s arrogant declaration, but Fernwick made his presence known. The Duke had forgotten that the Baron was not too far away. The older man had a glass of brandy in hand, his eyes sparkling. He seemed in a better mood than when they were negotiating.

“Your Grace, Longford,” he said. “That was most entertaining. It certainly reminded me of my youthful days. You do know how to handle affairs like these with efficiency. I believe I have not made a mistake in making the agreement with you.”

Theo simply nodded, but Fernwick had more to say.

“I will be hosting a ball next week. I hope I will be able to avoid a spectacle similar to what we’ve just witnessed. At that point, we can finalize our deal.”

Theo’s chest tightened at the thought. He suppressed a sigh.

An evening full of frivolous conversation, forced pleasantries, and mamas foisting their daughters on him was the last thing he wanted. However, he would attend for the sake of business.

“I will be there, Fernwick,” he promised.

The elderly Baron turned and left with a nod of satisfaction. The change in his demeanor should please the Duke, but social events never interested him. He was almost startled by Philip clapping him on the back.

“Ah, so that settles it. We—not just me, for a change—will have some fun, my dear friend.”

“That is precisely what we means, Longford,” the Duke grumbled, glaring at Philip. “I shudder to think what other disaster you will get yourself into.”

“Your Grace, you wound me. Do not fret. You and I will have a fabulous time!”

The ball was days away, but Theo was already regretting agreeing to attend.