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Chapter One

Revenge

December, 1822

Edward Lionel, Marquess of Townsend, strode across St Ja about his afternoon’s work One day hoineered a satisfying act of revenge against his former friend, Lord Wescott

It involved getting married, yes, but sometimes sacrifices arranted

He stopped in the doorway of his preferred gentle in the faood to be home, even if London was a cold, muddy mess in the thick of an early winter

He handed his cloak and hat to the attendant, s room in search of his closest friends, Viscount Marlow and the Earl of Augustine He’d barely entered when the twohis na emporium

“Is that Townsend I see?” Marlow said

“Look at hi “He found his way back to London after all”

He’d been gone so long their noisy breach of decorum didn’t bother hi months, devastated that Wescott, one of his best childhood friends, had stolen the love of his life The loss would always hurt—Lady Ophelia had been meant for him, he knew that—but at least he’d been able to pull off a satisfying counterblow

“Coust, his black hair ry?”

“We’re drinkingbeneath his famously white-blond hair “We’vein France, my friend?”

He meant woh, in truth, he’d been too heartsick to respond to any advances that came his way

He glanced around the half es weren’t as busy at White’s outside the Season Coentle of entlemen… “Wescott’s not here, is he?”

“No,” said August “But if he e’d have to broker a peace between you You can’t hold that grudge forever”

“I certainly can” He poured hilass from the spiced brandy on the table “He stole the woman I loved”

“I don’t know that he stole her so much as saved her life in a fire,” said Marlow

Townsend glared at hiive hier my friend”