The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(37)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“I’ve been known to see the light of day afore noon,” Iddesleigh said, “although not often.” He kicked a chair out from the table. “Sit, man, and partake of that hallowed brew called coffee. The gods, had they known of it, would’ve had no need of nectar on Olympus.”

Edward waved at a boy serving drinks and took the proffered chair. He nodded at the silent third man sharing the table. “Harry. How’re you?”

Harry Pye was a land steward on an estate somewhere in the north of England. He wasn’t often in London. He must be here on business. In contrast to the flamboyant viscount, Harry almost blended into the woodwork. He was a man most would hardly notice in his ordinary brown coat and waistcoat. Edward knew for a fact that he carried a wicked dagger in his boot.

Harry nodded. “My lord. It’s good to see you.” He didn’t smile, but there was an amused gleam in his green eyes.

“God’s blood, Harry, how many times have I told you to call me Edward or de Raaf?” He signaled the boy again.

“Or Ed or Eddie,” Iddesleigh cut in.

“Not Eddie.” The boy banged a mug down, and Edward took a grateful sip.

“Aye, my lord,” he heard Harry murmur, but Edward didn’t bother replying.

He glanced around the room. The coffee at this house was very good. That was the main reason the Agrarian Society met here. It certainly wasn’t because of the architecture. The room was crowded, with a too-low ceiling. The short door lintel was known to catch the taller members a nasty crack on the crown on entering. The tables had probably never been scrubbed, and the mugs didn’t bear a close inspection. And the staff was a shifty lot who could be selectively hard of hearing when they didn’t feel like serving, no matter the rank of the customer. But the coffee was fresh and strong, and any man was welcome to the house as long as he had an interest in agriculture. Edward recognized several titled men sitting at tables, but there were also small landowners up for a day in London and even working stewards such as Harry. The Agrarians were known for the strange equality of their club.

“And what does bring you to our lovely, if odoriferous, capital?” Iddesleigh asked.

“Negotiating a marital alliance,” Edward replied.

Harry Pye’s eyes sharpened over the rim of his mug. His hand was wrapped around the cup. There was a disconcerting space where his ring finger should have been but wasn’t.

“Oh, braver man than I,” Iddesleigh said. “You must have been celebrating the impending nuptials when I saw you last night at the fair Aphrodite’s Grotto.”

“You were there?” Edward felt oddly reticent. “I didn’t see you.”

“No.” Iddesleigh smirked. “You looked quite, ah, relaxed when I saw you exit that establishment. I, myself, was engaged at the time with two eager nymphs, or I would have greeted you.”

“Only two?” Harry asked, deadpan.

“We were joined later by a third.” Iddesleigh’s icy gray eyes sparkled almost innocently. “But I hesitated to admit the fact for fear it would cause you two to doubt your manhood by comparison.”

Harry snorted.

Edward grinned and caught the boy’s eye. He held up a finger for another mug. “Good God. Aren’t you getting a trifle long in the tooth for such athletics?”

The viscount placed a lace-draped hand on his breast. “I assure you, on the honor of my dead and moldering forefathers, that all three wenches were wearing smiles when I left them.”

“Probably because of the gold they were clutching,” Edward said.

“You offend me deeply,” the viscount said as he smothered a yawn. “Besides, you yourself must’ve engaged in debauchery of one sort or another at the goddess’s domain. Admit it.”

“True.” Edward frowned at his mug. “But I won’t be for very much longer.”

The viscount looked up from inspecting the silver embroidery on his coat. “Never say you intend to be a chaste bridegroom?”

“I see no other option.”

Iddesleigh’s eyebrows arched. “Isn’t that a rather literal—not to mention archaic—interpretation of the bridal vows?”

“Perhaps. But I think it will make for a successful marriage.” Edward felt his jaw clench. “I want it to work this time. I need an heir.”

“I wish you luck, then, my friend,” Iddesleigh said quietly. “You must have chosen your lady carefully.”

“I did indeed.” Edward stared into his half-empty mug. “She is from an impeccable family; it goes back further than mine. She isn’t repulsed by my scars; I know because I asked her myself—something I omitted to do with my first wife. She’s intelligent and quiet. She’s handsome, but not beautiful. And she comes from a large family. God willing, she should be able to give me strong sons.”

“A Thoroughbred dam for a Thoroughbred sire.” Idde-s-leigh’s mouth quirked. “Soon your stables will overflow with hearty, squalling progeny. I’m sure you can hardly wait to begin getting offspring on your intended.”

“Who is the lady?” Harry asked.

“Sir Richard Gerard’s eldest, Miss Sylvia—”

Iddesleigh made a muffled exclamation. Harry glanced at him sharply.

“Gerard. Do you know her?” Edward finished slowly.

Iddesleigh studied the lace at his wrists. “My brother, Ethan’s wife was a Gerard. As I remember, the mother was something of a tartar at the wedding.”

“She still is.” Edward shrugged. “But I doubt I’ll have much contact with her after we’re married.”

Harry gravely raised his cup. “Congratulations on your betrothal, my lord.”

“Yes, congratulations.” The viscount lifted his cup as well. “And good luck, my friend.”

A COLD NOSE against her cheek woke Anna. She peeked and saw brown canine eyes only inches from her own. They stared at her urgently. Pungent doggy breath panted in her face. She groaned and turned her head to glance at the window. Dawn was just brightening the sky from a drowsy peach color to the more alert bright blue of day.

She looked back at the watching canine eyes. “Good morning, Jock.”

Jock took his forepaws from the mattress beside her head and backed up a step to sit down. He was very still, ears up, shoulder bunched, eyes alert to her every move. The very epitome of a dog waiting to go out.

“Oh, all right. I’m getting up.” She padded over to the basin and made an abbreviated wash before dressing.