[The Inconvenient Matches series is comprised entirely of stand alone novels that can be read in any order]
Forced into marriage by duty and obligation, The Duke and Duchess of Rothbury parted ways a week after saying their vows under the explicit u...
Prizefighter: Aboxer who competes in matches for money and other prizes.
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Winter Hastings, Marquess of Graham, genuinely considered dropping down to his knees in gratitude when the Duchess of Rothbury insisted he stay at Hartley Manor for a fortnight longer, in anticipation of the arrival of some of the members of his mother's Ladies Syndicate, including the dowager Marchioness of Graham. His mother, as it turned out, was a benefactor of the Duchess' orphanage, which had recently undergone reconstruction. Or something to that effect, in any case. Truth be told Winter couldn't have been bothered in the least, all that mattered to him was that he now had a viable excuse to stay out of London for a little while longer.
Would he be glad to see his mother? Of course.
Was he genuinely worried for the health of one of his oldest, closest friends? Of course.
But neither of these was the true reason as to why Winter had practically leapt at the opportunity to accompany Rothbury to Cornwall, and why he had been so glad to accept Her Grace's invitation to prolong his stay. The simple fact of it was that Cecily Gilchrest, the first and only woman he had ever loved, had given birth to her husband's heir the week prior. A strong healthy boy, the pride of his parents. And apparently the only thing most of his acquaintances could talk about was how the couple was deliriously happy. He'd been invited to the boy's christening and had been hankering for an excuse to not go without appearing immature.
Yes, yes, he was well aware that it was a tale as old as time. He had been an immature bastard that had never deserved her in the first place and he had only realized what she had meant to him after he had lost her. He joked with Rothbury frequently enough about having been smarter than all of them to have avoided the old ball and chain, but the reality of it was marriage that had evaded him.
He was sincerely considering allowing his mother to find a bride for him so that he could just do his duty and produce an heir to his title. As long as the woman was tolerable and had a whit of intelligence, he could probably maintain a friendly relationship with her. But when one's parents were a love match that put Byron's work to shame, one tended to have very high standards when it came to marriage. Though, admittedly, love matches were rare in the echelons of society he occupied. He could do far worse than a friendly match. He could end up like Rothbury, happily pretending that he had not bound his life to another.
All for the best though, really. The man that he had been at the time would have crushed Cecily's spirit under the foot of his carelessness without a single thought. And then she would have hated him for as long as they lived. At least now, she greeted him with fondness if they ever met at a ball or soiree.
When, nearly eight years prior, she had ended her betrothal to him, he had drunk himself into a stupor that would have been the envy of Dionysus then had gone on a spree of debauchery that would put the devil to shame. Then again, it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to be senselessly drunk in those days. He had been, after all, Charlie Montgomery's closest friend. His relationship with Benedict was a consequence of his friendship with Charlie rather than a consequence of their schooling. Even though they had attended both Eton and Cambridge together, they were never in the same classes because Winter was a solid three years Benedict's senior.
