The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(14)

“You may not have to,” West said. “Sometimes love just finds you.”

Sutton snorted. “Yes, well, we’re not all as lucky as you.” He looked at Dartford. “Or you.” He straightened and smoothed a hand over his lapel. “Some of us had to spend an inordinate amount of time at Society events looking for just the right spouse.”

Kendal shuddered. “Thank God, I didn’t.” He looked at Bran. “I detest Society events. I rarely go to any.”

West chuckled. “It’s actually rather ironic since he was quite the rakehell in his youth. But then he retreated and became the ‘Forbidden Duke.’”

Bran blinked at Kendal. “The Forbidden Duke?”

Kendal inclined his head. “Just so. I think it’s the most dashing of our titles, really. Far more respectable and commanding than Duke of Desire. Or Duke of Daring.” He looked toward Dartford.

“I don’t know, it makes me sound rather jaunty.” Dartford’s mouth sprawled into a lazy smile, and his eyes danced with merriment.

“You all have nicknames?” Bran asked, his gaze settling on Sutton. “Except you.”

“Oh no, he has one too,” West said. “He’s the Duke of Deception.” Bran opened his mouth to ask why, but West held up his hand. “It’s a long story and up to Sutton to tell. Suffice it to say he doesn’t care for it, while I adore my nickname.” Again, his smile was self-satisfied.

Bran wouldn’t care for it either. “Who comes up with this nonsense?”

They exchanged glances and promptly broke into laughter.

“Would you believe our wives?” Dartford asked. “They were wallflowers, and they amused themselves by labeling us. The nicknames were their secret for a while, but somehow became known over time. Although I’m fairly certain that Kendal’s and West’s are by far the most notorious.

“How horrid,” Bran said, his neck twitching.

West shrugged. “I don’t mind, particularly since it originated with our wives. I wouldn’t worry if I were you, Knighton. I highly doubt you’ve been given a nickname. No one knows anything about you.”

And Bran hoped it stayed that way. He exhaled as relief coursed through him. “I loathe notoriety.”

Sutton held up his glass. “Hear, hear.”

“Indeed,” Kendal agreed. “Listen, lads, our new friend doesn’t know where to begin to look for a countess. It’s up to us to help him.” He looked at West. “Apparently just you and I since those two are abandoning us.”

“So sorry,” Sutton said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“And when you say, ‘you and I,’” West said to Kendal, “you mean just me.”

Kendal’s mouth tipped up in a sharp, mocking smile. “Just so.”

West rolled his eyes before looking over at Bran. “I’ll help you.”

“No one better for this task,” Sutton said with an air of jocularity.

Bran was surprised he didn’t tell them that he didn’t require their matchmaking efforts. For whatever reason, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. These men possessed a companionability that brought to mind his brothers, and yet these fellows were far more good-natured. Bran felt as though he were in on the joke instead of constantly outside the group. Because of that, he decided to let down his guard more than usual. “I do think my daughter would benefit from a mother.” He thought of his own and quickly qualified that. “A good, caring mother.”

“Ah-ha,” Dartford said, eyeing Sutton. “He has requirements like you.”

Kendal shook his head. “I hardly think good and caring are anything special—any sensible gentleman would want the same.”

Good and caring were very special. And Bran wouldn’t settle for anything less. “I should think I’d prefer a widow, perhaps someone with children. I’m not interested in some young debutante fresh from her governess.”

“I don’t blame you,” West said. “Maturity is a beautiful thing.” He smiled broadly.

“His wife is mature,” Dartford said.

“None of our wives were in their first blush of youth,” Sutton said. “And thank goodness for that. You’re on the right track, Knighton. I hope things go more smoothly for you than they did for me. It took me years to find Aquilla. Shamefully, she’d been right under my nose the entire time.”

When Bran thought of taking years to find a new wife…his skin began to itch. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Surely he could find a wife without attending an endless parade of balls and routs and whatever other nonsense he’d have to attend.

“I think we can forgo Almack’s altogether,” West said. “It’s a bloody waste of time anyway.” He swung his head to Bran. “The Harcourts are having a ball on Friday. Have you received an invitation?”

“I don’t know.” His secretary said he’d received several invitations, but Bran hadn’t looked at them. “I’ll check into it.”

“If you haven’t, I’ll secure one for you. I’m sure Lady Harcourt will be thrilled to debut the new Earl of Knighton.”

Bran inwardly winced. He didn’t want that much attention. But he had to realize he couldn’t avoid it completely. He’d merely do his best to be as uninteresting as possible. Hell, his cravat was starting to feel too tight and the shirt the new tailor had made wasn’t living up to his requirements—there was that word again. The seams at the shoulders were too bulky. The tailor would have to redo them, and if he couldn’t achieve the necessary result, his temporary assignment would be at an end.