Please forgive this author for the ridiculousness written in this novel

This story takes place in a fictional London. *cough* HIGHLY fictional.

* * *

Frankly, the scandal ripped through London faster than any young rakehell could tear open their mistress’s bodice!

Many observers– Amused observers, which should be stated with emphasis– noted that this new lascivious piece made its way through the Ton at a speed which likely topped the leading time at Newmarket.

Surely, even the fastest thoroughbreds couldn’t beat the minutes it took for this delicious morsel to travel from the wagging tongues of one nosy mama to the next. And it must also be noted that each matron did their part in tossing fuel to the roaring flames by adding on a new layer of vulgarity.

Those who heard the “news” would fan themselves with vigor, as they feigned distress at the naughty details, before pressing the even more lewd ones onto their unsuspecting husbands.

The men, who were most likely lords of the House or gentlemen of high quality—though some would whisper low quality under their breaths—would press upon their colleagues to do something about the vulgar behavior of these young bucks! For they were scaring their blushing wives, as they repeated the obscene details while their bosoms heaved from talking too fast.

“Which young buck is it now? There’s a new one every week these days!”

“No, why surely you must’ve heard!”

“I have not! Who is it?! I shall personally challenge him to a duel for daring to offend our innocent womenfolk.”

“Why, it's the Duke of Savannah!”

“Duke of Savannah…?! You don’t say!”

No one was really going to do anything about it. But they sure liked to pretend that they would!

Poor Duke of Savannah… His name would no doubt provide entertainment to the Ton for months to come—even long after the summer events ended, when the upper class would retire to their countryside homes for the Winter.

Indeed, this salacious gossip would no doubt leave a trail of broken hearts from the young debutantes who had their eyes set on marrying the elusive man—much to their delusions.

The newly minted Duke of Savannah—one of Britain’s “Most Eligibles.” Barely over the age of 21—though not quite at 22—was perhaps the most devastatingly dashing male specimen who had ever stepped foot into the House of Lords.

Young, arrogant, daring, athletic, intelligent, and handsome. Painfully handsome.

But the most important traits to top it off…? Absolutely rich and privileged.

Though the man had set the hearts of many young ladies on fire—for he instantaneously captured every woman’s gaze as soon as he stepped into a room—there was not one person who thought the Duke of Savannah, Robin Ainsley, would trade in his bachelor card before the age of—well… Never…

While not a notorious flirt, the rumor mill claimed that the man was a budding rakehell. Having already gone through three rumored mistresses for his young age, there was not a gentleman who did not know that young Ainsley was determined to remain a confirmed bachelor.

As a matter of fact, it was Lord Ainsley who boldly declared at White’s over a round of cards that married life was for men who had lost their vigor!

“The old buck likely couldn’t get a proper rise due to his old age and requires the assistance of some poor woman—shackled to him like a pitiful ball and chain—to properly assist him in uhh… Well… His many endeavors, we shall say.”

The sly words that slipped from the lips of the duke in his inebriated state were as lewd and unapologetic as they come. One would debate whether he truly believed in them.

Yet his own friends would goad him further into his rakehell convictions. Lord Bailey, Earl of Hunt, pointed out after sloshing down another thing of beer, “Watch your words, Ainsley! One could never know if they are cursing themselves. Before you know it, you will be shackled—”

“Bite your tongue!” the young duke yelled in feigned outrage. “I would never—! Who even brought up this ungodly topic! I am but 22—! Still many more oats to sow before I sign my life away to raise the next duke! By then, may I rest in peace!”

But good ol’ Bailey would not drop the subject, as he pressed upon his friend further. “You say this now, but even Crumley threw in his hat early! He was but 24 when he married. Now at the age of 26, he has his own brood that he tows with him daily in Hyde Park.”

This elicited a rather sarcastic eye roll from Ainsley, who did not bother to hold back his words when he responded, “That’s because Crumley was an idiot! He allowed himself to be trapped into marriage! Hunted and cornered like a poor beast by bachelor-hunting mamas at someone’s ball.”

Someone—his name not important—gossiped enthusiastically, “I hear the poor chap was sleeping soundly in the guest quarters when the lady ‘accidentally’ stumbled into the wrong room. Crumley found himself engaged before the next morning! Poor chump. He couldn’t even put up a decent fight.”

The large group of men gathered around the table could only grumble their condolences for the fellow.

Another one who was gone too soon.

Shaking his head, Ainsley could only mumble with slurred words, “All of his good looks inherited from his mother were wasted. Crumley was a champ. A man among men! May his legacy be commemorated through our convictions—for we shall not be married off any time soon!”

“Watch your mouth, Ainsley. Fate has a way to deal with rakehells like you!” came the shout of whomever it was in the crowd, as laughter resonated across the room.

“Do be quiet!” the young duke growled in return. “I plan to remain a bachelor for a very long time. I won’t be as stupid as Crumley! No lady—if one can call such a woman a lady—will ever scheme their way into being my duchess! Nope! Not on my watch, and not while I’m alive!”

So, one might ask—What went wrong with this plan…?

How did the Duke of Savannah find himself at the center of the juiciest gossip to come out of the Ton this season?

Or better yet—What was he thinking…?

If someone were to ask Lord Ainsley this question, which her guardian did, he would respond with, “Well, I simply wasn’t thinking. I was tired and went into my assigned quarters for the evening. There were no candles… Or rather, I didn’t care to light one because I was already falling towards the bed. I would have succeeded in falling asleep too, had I not—had I not…”

Her father—uh… grandfather’s sharp gaze nearly pierced him through, like a saber sharpened to its peak form for a duel. “Had you not what…?”

‘Had I not squeezed the softest pair of boobs with my hands,’ Ainsley thought with a long sigh. But he was not about to state those details out loud to her grandfather’s face.

Ah, what a mess indeed.