Chapter One

Montgomery Castle

Scotland

May 1816

When the butler placed the day’s letters on the silver tray, Lord Hamish Montgomery didn’t hesitate to set aside his ruling pen and sort through the mail. He’d been tardy once and had spent the rest of his life making up for his onetime indulgence in laziness. 

No matter how responsible Hamish was now, he could never change the fact he’d entered the world eight minutes too late, by which time his twin brother Callum was already comfortably swaddled and crowned heir to the dukedom. 

A scarlet seal Hamish didn’t recognize graced the outside of one of the letters, and he unfolded the paper over his drafting board. Most likely one of his brother’s creditors was asking for money. Callum seemed determined to make his gaming hall the most luxurious in London, if the bills were anything to go by. 

Dear Lord Hamish Montgomery: 

Mr. and Mrs. Butterworth of Norfolk happily invite you to share the most joyous occasion of their lives when their daughter, Charlotte Butterworth, is forever joined in matrimony to Callum Montgomery, the Duke of Vernon, at St. George’s Church in London.  

Hamish blinked. 

The letter’s brevity did not lessen its impact. 

The name Charlotte Butterworth appeared entirely different from Lady Isla McIntyre, Callum’s intended.

God in heaven. 

“He’s getting married in London,” Hamish said, conscious his voice was faint.  

“Indeed.” The butler’s carefully cultivated disinterest was normally reassuring, but Hamish frowned. 

“London, England.” Hamish stressed the last word. “Perhaps there are other Londons.” 

The butler hesitated, as if valiantly searching for another London. “There is a small settlement by that name in the Province of Upper Canada, my lord. In the 1790s the Lieutenant Governor even proposed it to be the capital of the province, though that plan never went forward. It still remains rather smaller than its English counterpart.” 

“The English need some variety in the names of their capitals.” 

“You express the sentiment well, my lord, though I believe there were some strategic advantages for defense that appealed to Sitcoe.” 

Hamish didn’t ask his butler where he’d received the information. Highlanders were always immigrating to Canada. 

For a moment, hope bloomed in Hamish’s chest. 

Canada. 

That was certainly a better alternative to the ton-replete capital. His lips twitched. Wasn’t Canada just a flatter Scotland? Not Hamish’s preference, though some people might favor the fact that a misstep in Upper Canada was unlikely to send them hurtling to the bottom of a cliff. 

A pained expression appeared on the butler’s face. “I am afraid it is unlikely His Grace has chosen precisely thatLondon in which to marry. St. George’s is a fashionable church for weddings. I believe it is located at Hanover Square.” 

Hamish waved his hand dismissively. “No matter. Upper Canada would be too far, even though it is more likely to be inhabited by sensible people.” 

London, England was certainly not inhabited by sensible people. 

At least not in the regions around Hyde Park that the ton delighted in frequenting, as if the artificial Serpentine might in any manner rival the brilliance of even the smallest, most unassuming loch in the Highlands. 

“Is my brother under the impression that there are no appropriate women in Scotland?” Hamish asked. “Or that he is not already betrothed?”

No woman could be more suitable than Isla McIntyre. She was accomplished, beautiful, and above all, a McIntyre. And Callum’s marriage with her is the only way we can keep Montgomery Castle. 

The pained look on the butler’s face appeared again. “I would not want to muse over the duke’s reasoning.” 

Hamish nodded. “Aye. Quite right. It’s the sort of thing that would give one a headache.” 

Not for the first time, Hamish wished the title were his. He would do a far better job of acting honorably than his brother—he always had. If he chided himself for his one-time tardiness, it was not because he craved the attention and accolades that accompanied the title. Perhaps it would matter to members of the ton who adored balls and thought a title would give them an advantage when seeking dance partners. 

Hamish had never suffered from a dearth of female interest. Apparently, there was something about his broad shoulders, dark hair, and chiseled facial features that caused lassies to exclaim excitedly in his presence. His brother also did not suffer from lack of attention from women. Unfortunately, unlike Hamish, Callum did not devote attention to his duties. 

“My brother cannot be marrying an Englishwoman.” Hamish tightened his fingers around the letter, creasing the edge. “He’s supposed to marry Lady Isla. Everyone knows that. He’s not supposed to marry a woman from Norfolk.” 

Norfolk was hardly the provenance of the ton’s elite. How could some lassie who’d grown accustomed to flat plains and banal landscapes possibly expect to feel at home in the Highlands? Most likely she would have heart palpitations from viewing so much beauty. 

“I can’t allow my brother, the only one I have, to destroy his life in this manner. Are future generations of the esteemed Montgomery family supposed to be raised in England?” Hamish scowled. 

“It is possible that the duke believes himself to be in love.” 

“Love?” Hamish sputtered. 

Love was a concoction. Hamish knew it. His butler knew it. Unfortunately, Callum must not be unaware. 

God in heaven. 

Hamish refused to permit his only sibling, his brother, heir to the title, to marry some English fortune hunter who was not even in possession of a minor aristocratic title. Viscountesses and baronesses could be pompous, but one did desire one’s only sibling not marry a woman devoid of respectability. 

No. 

There was one thing to do, and it did not entail wedding guests. 

Hamish glanced longingly at his drafting board and the carefully drawn crow-stepped gables, pointed turrets and a luxurious porte-cochère so his client’s family would not get wet when they left their carriage to enter their home. His fingers itched to grasp his ruling pen again. This was his first commission, and it needed to be perfect. Still, the design, and all its neo-Gothic glory would have to wait. Family was more important. 

“I am going to London,” Hamish announced. “Please inform my valet to pack my bags.” 

Hamish would have to stop the wedding. 

What's the worst that can happen at a wedding? 

A troublesome wedding invitation...
When Hamish Montgomery learns his brother is getting married, he vows to stop the wedding. After all, his brother is a duke and is intended for someone else.

A determined bridesmaid...
Georgiana Butterworth is startled when a handsome Scotsman breaks into her bedroom and brandishes money. Evidently, he's mistaken her for her newly engaged sister and is trying to bribe her into not marrying his brother. Georgiana knows one thing: she won't permit this man to ruin her sister's chance for everlasting happiness.

A wedding that mustn't be stopped...
Hamish may be determined to stop the wedding, but Georgiana is intent to make certain the wedding happens, no matter what she has to do to distract him.

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Bianca Blythe has written over twenty fun and frothy Regency-set historical romances, filled with wallflowers, spinsters, dukes, and rogues. On occasion, she also writes historical mysteries under the name Camilla Blythe.

Born in Texas, Bianca earned her bachelor's degree from Wellesley College and completed a graduate degree in her beloved Boston. She spent four years in England, working in a fifteenth-century castle. Sadly she never spotted dukes and earls strutting about in Hessians.

Bianca credits British weather for forcing her into a library, where she discovered her first Julia Quinn novel. She remains deeply grateful for blustery downpours. 

After meeting her husband in another library, she moved with him to sunny California. On occasion she still dreams of the English seaside, scones with clotted cream, and sheep-filled pastures. For now, she visits them in her books.