Four Weddings and a Duke


 
 
 
 
 
 
 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. 
 Copyright © 2023 by Michelle McLean. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 Entangled Publishing, LLC
 644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave., STE 181
 Shrewsbury, PA 17361
 Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
 Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
 Edited by Lydia Sharp and Liz Pelletier
 Cover design by Bree Archer
 Stock art by Fotolit2/Depositphotos, xbujhm/Depositphotos, unnaugan/Depositphotos, FairytaleDesign/Depositphotos
 Interior design by Toni Kerr
 Print ISBN 978-1-64937-329-8
 ebook ISBN 978-1-64937-330-4
 Manufactured in the United States of America
 First Edition June 2023
 
 
 
 Also by Michelle McLean
 Gunslinger series
 Hitched To The Gunslinger
 The Gunslinger’s Guide to Avoiding Matrimony
 Blood Blade Sisters series
 A Bandit’s Stolen Heart
 A Bandit’s Broken Heart
 A Bandit’s Betrayed Heart
 The MacGregor Lairds
 How to Lose a Highlander
 How to Ensnare a Highlander
 How to Blackmail a Highlander
 How to Forgive a Highlander
 Other Books by Michelle McLean
 To Trust a Thief
 Romancing the Rum Runner
 
 
 To all the plants I’ve inadvertently killed over the years–I couldn’t keep you alive, but I can give you a hero who knows how to treat you right.
 
 
 At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage.
 https://entangledpublishing.com/books/four-weddings-and-a-duke
 
 
 Chapter One
 If given the choice between rolling about in a field of manure or attending the wedding of his cousin and her prince, Alexander Reddington would happily choose the manure. A childish sentiment, perhaps. And at over six feet and fourteen stone, Alex was most definitely not a child. In fact, some found him downright intimidating judging by the wide berth many gave him every time he entered a room.
 Yet, here he was, little better than a mere schoolboy, tugging on his overly tight cravat as the line of elegantly dressed aristocracy slowly filtered into the cathedral.
 “Stop that,” his mother murmured. “You’ll ruin all that hard work your poor valet did wrestling you into decent clothing this morning.”
 Alex grumbled under his breath, though he did stop trying to undress himself. “I fail to see why my presence is required here.”
 Her quiet sigh was the only outward sign of her annoyance, and one that showed how sorely he tested her nerves. Her genteel demeanor was rarely shaken. And that most often occurred when dealing with him. He had the grace to regret upsetting his mother, though he couldn’t help his feelings on the matter.
 “Lady Elizabeth is your cousin on my side, and Prince Leopold is your cousin on your father’s side, and they wished for you to be at their wedding,” she answered. “Even if they did not, you are now the Duke of Beaubrooke and are expected to be seen at these occasions.”
 The pit of dread that had taken up residence in his gut ever since that illustrious mantel had been dropped on his shoulders churned, and he swallowed back the bile that threatened to erupt. Yes, he was expected to be seen. He was expected to do a great many things now. Things he’d never wished for, prepared for, or had any inclination to perform. It mattered not.
 “Distant cousins, Mother,” he clarified. “Very distant. Leopold had never stepped a foot west of the Rhine until he arrived here for the ceremony. He wouldn’t know who I was if he tripped right over me. Not to mention there are so many people here, they’ll never know if I am actually in attendance or not. I have important work to do—”
 “Oh, hush.” She waved her hand as though she could erase all his arguments. “You have nothing to do that won’t be accomplished just as well later.”
 He rolled his lips together and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “I hate weddings,” he muttered.
 His mother patted his arm. “That is unfortunate, my son. Because yours is next.”
 Alex gritted his teeth. He didn’t need the reminder. Despite being a score and ten, the woman still had a knack for getting under his skin. But then, he supposed that was true of most mothers.
 He was happy for the bride and groom, of course, as it was, by all accounts, a love match. Certainly a reason for celebration. He simply failed to see why he needed to be a part of it. Or why he must linger once the vows were made when so many others were willing to stay and wallow in the revelry until dawn.
 Getting through the ceremony and following ball would be difficult under any circumstances for a recluse such as himself. But on this particular occasion, it was even more challenging to harness his desire to leave when the manuscript he’d been waiting on for months had finally arrived that morning.
 Timothy Lambert, the current Assistant Keeper of the Archives at Oxford, had sent word that a new manuscript he’d found possibly contained information they’d been looking for regarding ancient methods of plant grafting. Alex had spent the last several years studying different methods from around the world, using them to create his own hybrid species. And while he’d had some successes, his passion project continued to fall short. 
 And now, the help they needed might just be contained in the pages currently waiting for him in the small office he kept at Oxford. Putting in an appearance at this wedding, a tedious undertaking in comparison to his research, was the last thing in the world he wished to be doing right at that moment. Even if he’d known the couple well,