Eleanor Meyers - The Gentlemans Rules

The Gentlemans Rules

Heirs Of High Society Regency Romance

A HISTORICAL ROMANCE BOOK

ELEANOR MEYERS

Copyright 2020 by

Eleanor Meyers

All Rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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December 1784

London, England

Ive never met a man more vexing in all my life and am sure that You created him for no other reason than to test the worlds patience. The Duke of Avon cannot be helped, no matter how much I try. It will take a legion of Your angels to help him see the errors of his way. And still, I pray for him just as I do the many who come across my path.

Many believed the birth of his first son would change him, soften him.

It didnt.

And now the boy is with me. Delivered to my doorstep on December 25, I had no other choice but to name him Christmas. Perhaps, the name will bring him cheer in such a dreary world.

And maybe hell grow to be nothing like his father.

Who knows what the future will hold? Only you.

From the Journal of Mary Elizabeth Best

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July 1800

London, England

Christmas Smith tapped his foot rapidly against the marble floor in the hallway and clenched his hands together between his knees. Then he straightened and adjusted himself on the bench. The footman turned at his movement, likely making sure that Chris, as he preferred to be called, didnt steal anything in the hall, as though he could manage to smuggle an antique out of the mansion.

He thought about how he would get it done, as a way to distract his mind. Hed never actually steal from anyone. At least, not anymore. He was sixteen and far too old for such silly nonsense.

In fact, hed spent most of his life being what many would consider a good boy until the age of eleven. That was the same year the only mother hed ever known had died. Mary Elizabeth Best had raised Chris, along with the other children who had been abandoned at her orphanage, but hed taken her absence from his life hard, giving her sister and successor, Mary Francis Best, all sorts of trouble for at least two years.

Hed stolen, learned to pick pockets, and had almost been jailed even at that young age. But the threat of jail hadnt stopped him. In fact, he didnt cease his careless acts of defiance until the day he picked the pocket of a man who would later teach him a skill hed grown to love. Thered been a whittler in the park and within hours, Chris had mastered the skill. It was easy to find wood in the park and sometimes, hed find even better pieces, of broken chairs and tables, on the streets. Hed build army men and small dolls for Alex, the girl hed claimed as his sister.

The other children at the orphanage loved his creations and soon hed begun to sell them on the streets. In no time at all, hed started a business. He didnt earn much, however, since the wealthy didnt frequent his side of London often, but it was enough.

His mind returned to the vase. It looked old, likely worth more money than hed ever see in his life.

That thought angered him, because had his life been different, he wouldnt have had to think about how hed steal the priceless artifact. If his life had been different, hed have inherited it.

The door across the hall opened and the footman walked through, giving Chris a very withering look that told him to stay put.

He heard voices from beyond the open door and his stomach felt like a hundred carriage wheels were rolling through him. Then the footman returned. He was barely older than Chris, maybe only by a year or so, yet the serious set of his face made him seem ages away.

His Grace will see you now.

Chris stood and locked his knees in an effort to not collapse. Then he took a breath and walked through the door that led to the Duke of Avons office.

Chris hadnt fooled himself into thinking hed be prepared to see the man whod fathered him. Hed known hed feel some emotion. Anger. Pain. Astonishment if the duke looked anything like him.

What hed absolutely not been prepared for was finding the duke was not alone.

A young man stood by the duke, and Chris immediately noticed he and the lad had the same eyes. A pale brown with flecks of gold and green. He also had dark hair and his brows were currently set in a scowl. Father, please.

No. Now there, you have my answer. Leave. The duke didnt bother to look at his son. His eyes were set on Chris.

Chris wasnt sure if his half-brother even glanced at him before he stormed from the room.

Chris... Thats your name, correct? The duke looked him over and narrowed his eyes. Was there any recognition in those hazel eyes? It was a surprise to learn that hed inherited most of his features from his father. The duke hadnt aged well, but his former handsomeness had been evident in his son. Chris looked like the lad, whatever the lads name was.

He didnt want to know. Not really.

Yes. His voice came steadier than he thought it would.

Avon leaned back in his seat. He seemed much older than Chris had been prepared for. His hair was white, peppered with black on the ends. In a few years, Chris knew the black would vanish. He wondered if the duke was ill.

And why have you come, Christmas? Avon asked cautiously.

Chris was sure the man knew, but he lowered his gaze and decided to pretend otherwise. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out the miniature soldiers hed recently carved and placed them on the desk. The men were in various positions.

Avon leaned forward and began to study them.

Chris cleared his throat. I... studied paintings at the British Museum and cut the soldiers from memory.

Avons gaze lifted and then lowered back to the miniatures before he plucked one from the table. What are they for?

Boys, Chris said. Children who wish to play. Theyre quite popular at the orphanage I lived in.

Avon looked at him again, moving the object in his hand without looking at it again. Theyre very good, but Im not a boy. What is it you want from me?

I want to sell them to other children. Chris straightened. To the children here in Mayfair. His heart was racing. Id think theyd sell well.

Why? Avon asked quickly. Unlike you, the boys of the ton have other things to do with their time. Was he purposefully trying to anger Chris?

Chris was slightly caught off guard, but he pressed on. Because... were at war with Napoleon and... anyone whos a patriot to the Crown would wish to show it, wish their sons to know as well. The soldier is more than a toy; it is a symbol of allegiance to England.

That last part had been given to him to say by Mary Francis Best when hed told her what he planned to do today. He hadnt disclosed that Avon was his father or how hed come to learn it. Instead, hed said he would try and sell his idea to the duke, and Mary Francis had told him that the man was a member of the Whig Party, a supporter of industrial pursuits, gains, and power remaining within aristocratic hands. Meaning, theyd take a profit anywhere they could.

Avon chuckled as he stared at the soldier. Hed need to wear the British colors.