Essay on The Second Earl Of Saxton
Disbelief coated his handsome visage, "But Your Grace! I 'm not in the petticoat line nor am I a proper choice in any way shape or form!"
This was humiliating; he couldn 't pander to some school miss or backwoods debutant. He was the bloody Earl of Saxton, be dammed! His friends would never let him live this down! He was a rakehell, not a nursemaid.
When Lord Saxton had first been summoned from his bachelor apartments to his father 's spacious London town home he assumed his father had caught wind of his latest shenanigans.
There had been something about a Scotsman, an opera dancer and a barrel. He knew that Elias his best friend would keep mum but the Duke had spies everywhere and always seemed to know about his adventures.
Never in his wildest dreams did Christian imagine that his father would want him to escort a silly harridan about town during her first season.
Good heavens! Wasn 't she like twelve? She probably looked like a cross between the tail end of a mule and a fatted calf. He smirked a little picturing it.
Now standing across from his father 's ornately carved maple desk he wished that it he hadn 't been home when the summons arrived.
In point of fact, he wished he had plans to tour the continent or to visit the furthest reaches of the world anything but this task that had been placed before…