Her Lord's Choice - Book 3

Chapter 1

The fresh air reminded him so much of home and the farm that the cold, hard homesickness rose in the pit of his stomach before he could shove it down. Being out of the stench and filth of the city was so rare for him these days, and even now, he could still hear and see signs that he wasn't beyond its clutches yet, but it was something.

Dominic Antrucha raked a hand through his too long hair and sighed. Out here in His shiny boots and well-tailored suit, he felt so out of place. That was normal for him these days, but he'd never thought he'd feel so strange out in nature.

Who knew that a family name could mean so much? All his life, his mother had spoken so little of the familial history behind them he had assumed his existence was some great scandal. He'd been partially accurate, it turned out, but he never could have guessed that his father was part of some uppity family in the light of society.

From what he'd heard, his Uncle Ezra had mostly been a self-made man—for which Dominic respected him immensely—but a part of him wished Ezra hadn't had so much success. If there had only been a little money involved, Dominic would have been grateful—happy even. His mother and sister could do with a little more comfort in their lives, but of course, it hadn't been that easy. Dominic was now Lord Dominic Antrucha, and the gossip around town was that he would be groomed for a seat in parliament because of his prestigious position.

Once, nothing would have made Dominic happier. The thought that he could sit with the leaders of his country—have a chance to change the world—it would have overjoyed him, but that was a long time ago. He'd had such dreams and aspirations before.

A sour taste filled his mouth, and he shook his head, cursing under his breath. That chapter of his life had been buried the moment she said her wedding vows. In fact, he'd thought living this side of the Channel had come to an end that day, too. He would have happily continued his studies in India for the rest of his days, forgetting all those terrible, wonderful memories among the dusty, old tomes and stuffy librarians.

Oh, but he missed the tangy smells of spices and the cries of the market vendors. The animals, too, were so uncommon here, and sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to ride one of those great elephants through a fancy ballroom to shake these people up a bit.

"Your face is all sour again, Dommy." Jack whacked him with a cattail. "I thought coming out here would do you some good."

Dominic turned and looked at his friend, completely unamused. Jack Harpingdon was a notorious flirt and jokester. It was little wonder, however, that society women fell over themselves to get to him. He had that innate ability to put anyone at ease and make them feel as though they were the only person in the world.

"Damn." Jack gave a low whistle. "I didn't think she'd gotten to you that much, old boy."

"I don't want to talk about it." Dominic snapped.

"Why do you think I always keep things surface level?" Jack pointedly ignored him, per usual.

"Jack." Dominic said warningly.

"Let's be real, here. If you had taken my advice, you wouldn't be all mooney and boring, now would you?" Jack wagged a playful finger in his face, his blue eyes dancing with merriment.

"I'm going back to the house." Dominic turned on his heel and walked quickly away from his friend.

"Are you so eager to get back to the scheming mothers with their pitiful, unmarried daughters?" Jack called, completely unmoved by Dominic's anger, per usual.

Dominic stopped short in his tracks. No, no he wasn't. He was tired—so damned tired of all the lights, the sweeping musical refrains, and the tittering, flirtatious laughter. It all reminded him of ballrooms he wished he hadn't been in and dances he wished he hadn't danced, and he'd begun to drink far more than was good for him.