Howell looked like a footman in his Sunday finest, unaccustomed to riding inside so fine a coach. Eddie looked like he owned the coach or aspired to.

Lately, half of Rex’s waking hours had been spent rolling around London in wheeled conveyances crammed with his cousins, aunts, and uncles. He also escorted his sisters at least once a week, more if Mama was insistent.

And that didn’t count her goddaughters, who were legion, and not a one of them married yet.

“Howie fancies who and what he cannot have,” Edward said, elbowing his brother as if they were eight years old. “That’s his specialty, pining from afar. Next he’ll be penning sonnets and wandering beneath the full moon.”

Howell refrained from retaliation, proving that even Dorsets eventually matured.

“Howell appreciates good company,” Rex said. “A fine quality in any gentleman.” Though too much fine company left Rex longing for the peace and quiet of Ambledown.

“And whose fine company are you appreciating these days, Elsmore?” Cousin Eddie had the most annoying smirk. “The fellows at the club were talking about starting a pool, and your name figured prominently in the discussion.”

“How gratifying to know that my marital prospects or lack thereof provide amusement to my peers.” Rex had spoken more sharply than the moment called for, but ye gods…A Gloucestershire cheese-rolling was more decorous than polite society on the topic of an unmarried duke.

Rachel sent him a look, one she’d been sending him frequently in recent weeks. Part warning, part commiseration.

“Elsmore will take a bride when he’s good and ready,” she said. “A man with eleven male first cousins needn’t be overly worried about his title’s succession.”

“Ah,” said Eddie, “but not a one of us eligible male cousins is married yet. Perhaps I should drop James’s name into the betting pool.”

James, the cousin who at present had the honor to be the Elsmore heir, showed no signs of succumbing to Cupid’s arrow. When Rex escorted his party to the ducal theater box, he did spot James across the theater and one tier down. At James’s side sat one of London’s most exclusive courtesans, the rest of her court crowded around her. The ducal contingent ignored James’s coterie, though James himself would be cordially acknowledged should he appear alone in the passage.

Rex generally avoided the corridor, but at the interval, Mama of course had plans for him.

“We must greet dear Lady Wollmerton. Come along, Elsmore. If you want the latest on dit, you could ask for no finer source.”

Rex did not want the latest on dit, or even last week’s on dit. He rose and edged around a pair of lady cousins arguing about hats.

“Of course, Mama. Rachel, are you joining us?” Please, grant me at least one ally.

“Don’t be daft.” Rachel waggled gloved fingers at him and blew him a kiss.