Page 1 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Prologue
The new—andsomewhat resigned—Duke of Stroken smiled when he saw the return address on the next piece of correspondence.Peasgoode. Unlikely to be good news, but hearing from his friends in the north always brought him joy.
And Thorne—which is what the Duke’s friends still called him—had quite a lot of friends. He wasgoodat making friends.
About all ye’re good at.
Ignoring the ornate letter opening knife, engraved with the Stroken seal, he slit the envelope open with his finger and pulled out the letter. Sitting back in the ducal chair behind the ducal desk in the ducal study, Thorne resisted the urge to stack his mere-viscounty boots atop the rest of the correspondence.Ye’re a duke now. Start acting like one.
Griffin’s letter read as if the man was pissed off at the world, which he likely was.
Thorne,
I’ve been overruled. A fookingduke, now, and I can’t even control my family? Apparently I don’t even get a vote. Flickinsists on bringing the children to London, something about new school books and hats and Bull needs a waistcoat. A waistcoat? Jesus, there’s waistcoats in Edinburgh, aye?
I told her it wasn’t safe, and I couldn’t leave Peasgoode for a fortnight, but she’s good at getting her way.
Don’t ever fall in love, Thorne. You hand over your ballocks and apparently along with them your ability to say no.
Of course, there are compensations.
The door opened silently but Thorne was already looking up from the letter. Apparently after a decade of staying alive in the darkest alleys on the bloodiest missions, a few months as a reluctant duke hadn’t dulled his senses.
He didn’t recognize the young man who backed through the door, carrying a tray, but the realization didn’t alarm Thorne; no, he was too busy looking at that arse.
Titsworth, the butler, had outfitted the footmen in smart jackets which were cut trim, and this particular footman had all sorts of interesting things to show off. Allowing the letter to dangle from his fingers, Thorne smiled at the young man, who looked about eighteen or nineteen.
When he looked up and met Thorne’s gaze, the footman started, obviously not expecting theDuketo be watching him.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir. Mr. Titsworth sent me in here to refill your decanters.” He nodded down at the bottles he balanced on the tray—Thorne’s favorite whisky.
“Then by all means, have at it,” Thorne murmured, amused at both the lad’s flat American accent and how flustered he was. “Dinnae let me stand in yer way.”
The young man was positively adorable when he flushed like that, his skin darkening to almost the same color as his auburn curls, which he’d appeared to have attempted to pullback into a queue. Little wisps framed his face, making him appear almostpretty.
As the footman bustled toward the decanter, Thorne shook himself from his rather blatant admiration and dropped his eyes to Griffin’s words once more.
So this is me, placing my family in your hands and making them your problem. Bull especially, because the little shite isgoodat getting into trouble. Rourke mentioned he’d be coming to Town as well, so if he gets there before me, he can deal with his brother…but until one of us arrives,pleasekeep him safe.
Keep them all safe.
Damnation,whyhaven’t we closed the trap on Blackrose yet? None of us will breathe easier—much less allow our families to walk freely—until that bastard has paid.
Wasn’t that the truth? And Griffin was right: whyhadn’tthey caught Blackrose yet?
Because Thorne hadn’t figured out how to set the damned trap yet.
It washisfault, his alone, that they still hadn’t finished off the bastard, and he knew it.
Exhaling, Thorne’s gaze wandered to where the footman was finishing his task, bent over the whisky cart. That arse reallywaslovely, wasn’t it? Not too round, but a bit of a handful. Just enough.
Thorne’s lips curled again as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the desk and enjoying the view. He had a bit of a reputation—more than a bit, if ye’re being honest—with the ladies, but he wasn’t discriminatory when it came to pleasure. He was an equal opportunities lover. His time at university had taughthim there was all sorts of fun to be had out there, no matter what equipment you had to work with.
He wondered if this footman would be interested in a bit of said…fun.
Fooking the help when ye were a viscount was one thing, but ye’re aDukenow. Ye cannae make the offer, because the puir bloke would think it was a requisite of the job.
He had no interest in an obligation fook. Sighing, Thorne turned back to the letter.
