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“Rivendale?” Caught off guard, Thorn dropped his defenses for a crucial moment—just enough for Luke to dart in and land a clean punch to his mouth.

Shaking off a sharp pain in his jaw and the stars from his vision, Thorn spat out a glob of blood, the metallic taste sharp on his tongue. He turned back to find Lucien grinning. “Was that your distraction technique?”

Lucien shrugged, never dropping his guard despite his casual demeanor. “It worked, didn’t it? But it’s also true. Rivendale is in his London residence.”

The Marquess of Rivendale had once been among Thorn’s closest friends, and had later become his in-law when Thorn’s little sister married Rivendale’s youngest brother.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” Luke circled Thorn, light on his feet.

“No. We haven’t spoken since that night…” That night when, during a house party with only his most intimate friends and family members present, a valuable locket was stolen. He had flown into a rage, suspecting everyone there. None of the relationships had recovered from that. “Do you know why he is in London?”

Lucien shrugged, feinting left. “Probably to find himself a bride. He needs heirs. And who knows how long—”

Thorn’s fist connected with Luke’s solar plexus, driving the breath from his lungs. Luke staggered back, one hand pressed against his middle.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” he wheezed out.

Thorn took a step back, allowing his friend to recover. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm and grimaced. “Seems like everyone is looking for a bride these days.”

Luke gave him an odd look. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for a bride, too? First Tyrone, now you?”

Thorn raised his hands and tipped his head to the side, inviting Luke to continue the match. “I have no choice. My bastard of a father will disinherit me if I don’t get married before his demise.”

“He can’t do that.” Luke scowled, then stepped forward, raising his hands in kind. “Can he?”

“He can’t touch the Wakefield estates, but most of the profitable lands the bastard won in cards and horse races. Without them, the upkeep of the entailed estates crumbles. And most of the money he has saved in the account also didn’t come from the marquessate. In short, without the wealth of unentailed assets, I am going to be in queer street.”

“If that is reason enough to marry, then perhaps I should be thinking about marrying as well.” Luke smirked, dodging a jab. “Maurice is threatening to cut off my allowance almost every month. I hate being dependent on him.”

“Then perhaps you should marry,” Thorn said with a sad smile. “Not sure Sabrina would appreciate it though.”

Luke snorted. “Sabrina doesn’t care about other women I engage with now. What makes you think she’s going to care if I marry?”

“Because she is the main woman in your life now. You buy her all the jewels and pay for her expenses, and you take her to all the public events. You come home to her when you have nothing else to do. And if you marry, your wife will get that privilege.”

“You call that privilege?” Luke chuckled, dancing away from a combination. “She would be happy to be rid of me if it meant she got more trinkets—the ones I am not able to afford now.”

Thorn shrugged. “I wish it was just about trinkets for me; then, I wouldn’t even think of getting married. Unfortunately, it’s about an estate full of people who depend on me. Besides, I’ve already given up too much to keep that blasted inheritance, and I will be damned if I let that bastard win in death… In fact—” A bright idea sprouted in his mind.

“Yes?” Luke threw a series of punches, but Thorn blocked each one with ease.

“I know exactly how to make Wakefield regret his blackmail.”

“How is that?” Luke’s guard dropped for just a moment as curiosity got the better of him. Thorn seized the opening, landing a devastating blow that sent his friend sprawling onto the canvas.

“By marrying the least acceptable woman.”

Chapter 7

Lydia felt at home at Caldwell’s house. She’d been there many times since Honoria had secured the position as housekeeper, albeit without the earl’s knowledge. Lydia had never even officially met the man, until tonight. He was reclusive by nature, which suited Honoria perfectly.

This ball was the first event Lydia saw him host, and he only did that to build back the connections before his eldest ward’s coming out. Honoria had hoped that she had at least a year before the Caldwells would return into the spotlight, but some internal family matter had hastened the timeline. And now Honoria needed to leave this home.

And if only Lydia managed to steal the ring, they would both be able to do exactly that.

“Lady Clydesdale!” Lydia exclaimed as she encountered a beautiful raven-haired woman on the arm of a tall, stern-looking man. Lydia performed a curtsy. “My Lord.”

“Mrs. Lawless, a pleasure to see you here.” Lady Clydesdale’s face lit up in a smile. Lord Clydesdale’s gray eyes softened as he watched his wife.