The Hazards of Hunting a Duke
“He wasn’t surprised by the weather, really—as of late, it seemed as if the universe was conspiring against him.
He stood at the window of his town house that overlooked Grosveno r Square, watching the rivulets of rain run down the paned glass, the letter he’d received from his gamekeeper at Broderick Abbey crumpled in his hand.
He didn’t know what to do with the information in the letter. He didn’t know how to make things right anymore. His entire life, he’d believed himself invincible, above the earthly bonds so many men felt. Now he felt at sea. He was drifting, his direction unknown, unable to see a harbor on any horizon.
With a weary sigh, he put the letter into the pocket of his dressing gown and returned to his desk, where another letter sat, awaiting another answer he did not have.
He’d first read it last night when he’d arrived home. But he’d been a little in his cups and had tossed it aside. This morning, however, he sca rcely had the heart to pick it up again.
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