Mad About the Duke Read Free Page A

like he was being embalmed in homespun.
    Jack had insisted that Parkerton go over to visit Lucy wearing something less resplendent than his usual ducal finery—if only to get Lucy to listen to him. Lucy, the third Lady Standon, held a rather infamous disregard for pomp and social strictures.
    â€œI don’t think my tailor is the issue at hand,” Jack told his brother.
    â€œYes, well, Lady Standon assumed I was a business fellow or perhaps a solicitor that Hollindrake had sent over to straighten out Lucy’s messy affairs.” Again there was the mandatory shudder when Parkerton mentioned the lady. “Really, is Clifton positive he is in love with that cheeky—”
    â€œParkerton,” Jack said, “get to the point.”
    â€œThe point is this is all Lucy Sterling’s fault. If I hadn’t had to go over in this disguise just to appeal to her democratic and plebeian sensibilities—”
    â€œParkerton, you went over there in disguise so you wouldn’t end up embroiled in any further scandal. So every matron and London mama with a daughter to foist off wouldn’t think that you, the Duke of Parkerton, was calling on the Standon widows because you were interested in marrying one of them.”
    Ever since Hollindrake had dangled a bounty of a dowry for any fool willing to take one of the widows off his hands, the house on Brook Street had become a magnet for every fortune hunter and curious bachelor in London.
    â€œYes, I suppose that was a good idea a few hours ago, but that was before she walked in the door, mistook me for a cit and hired me.”
    Jack felt the solid marble beneath his feet shift a bit. “She hired you?”
    This is where his brother’s tale got devilishly confusing.
    â€œYes,” the duke said, rubbing his temple as if his black eye wasn’t the only thing giving him a megrim. “I told you that already.”
    â€œHumor me and explain it again.”
    Parkerton drew a deep breath. “Lady Standon hired me to find her a husband.”
    â€œShe wants you to procure her a husband?”
    Parkerton nodded.
    This is where, to Jack’s benefit, being considered the most reckless of the Tremonts (heavens, most of Society still steered clear of “Mad” Jack Tremont), he could be excused for his response.
    He roared with laughter.
    For here before him sat the Duke of Parkerton, Society’s newest matchmaker.
    Â 
    James Lambert St. Maur Thurstan Tremont, 9 th Duke of Parkerton, found nothing amusing about his situation.
    Good heavens, he wasn’t even too sure how he’d gotten into it.
    He’d started his day as he always did, with Richards meticulously laying out his clothes for the day (the valet having first consulted Winston, the duke’s secretary, as to His Grace’s schedule), breaking his fast precisely at ten in the morning. It was a bit early for such things, by Society standards that is, but it was the duke’s one idiosyncrasy.
    And considering he came from a family of malcontents and blithe spirits, no one minded this one mild oddity.
    Then, having dined and read the morning paper, he’d gone to White’s to meet with Jack. Such discussions couldn’t be held in the library or his study or even here in the Great Room. No, the duke always conducted such business at White’s.
    Now, hours later, for the life of him, he couldn’t even remember what it was he’d intended to discuss with his youngest brother.
    Oh, Arabella. Yes, that was it.
    James shook his head, scattering that matter to a distant corner. His daughter’s situation paled in comparison to this…this imbroglio he suddenly found himself in.
    No, it was more than that. Why, it bordered on a scandal. He could be excused for not calling it what it was, for he’d never been in one before.
    Not that he didn’t know what one was. Good God, he was the head of the Tremont family. It waslike living