No one's ever expected much from Dalton Irving, the reserved, sheltered, and bookish heir to the family fortune. So in order to secure their place in London's society, the Irvings have arranged for Dalton to marry the brother of a viscount. A man who comes from a family with a title and with quite the scandalous reputation. A man Dalton doesn't know. A man who's very publicly announced that he doesn't want to get married, least of all to Dalton, right in the middle of their engagement ball. In an attempt to flee whispered words and sudden gossip and unexpected hurt from venomous words, Dalton finds comfort from the very last person he would have expected -- the wry, reclusive, and unsocial Edward Whitman, Duke of Wellingham. Edward Whitman doesn't like most people on his best days. They're dull and predictable and care only about money and status. Tonight, however, is the engagement ball for his best friend's brother, so he'll make an appearance to assure the night's success even if the idea of anyone marrying young Dalton Irving puts a strange ache in the pit of his stomach. But after Dalton's intended makes a mess of the ball, Edward suddenly finds himself alone with the young man, drawn to his wide-eyed curiosity and kindhearted generosity, his rambling and odd musings. Neither of them can imagine what this evening has in store for anyone, and all it takes is one night in London to change everything.

One Night in London: Dalton and Edward

Sighing, Edward turned toward the large bookshelves. Tadbury House had quite the collection, but his eyes first dropped to the sofa near the fireplace. In the soft glow of the fire, he noticed a book already on it and snickered under his breath when he saw what it was. One of those Gothic novels. Quite lurid. Written under the name of John Fellowes, which was clearly a pseudonym for someone who enjoyed doing such work but knew well enough that they might be—and no doubt would be—chastised for it no matter how much people secretly enjoyed reading it.


This happened to be a copy of The Secrets of Blackheath Manor, which Edward had already had the pleasure of reading. Must’ve belonged to Robert. Edward couldn’t imagine James leaving it out where anyone could see if it was his. Edward set it back where he found it and started up the narrow spiral stairs to the upper level of the room.


Chapter 22