“I TAKE it you’re back in England,” Randall Whealton, Earl of Plymouth, said as he settled into his favorite leather chair at the club in London. “I don’t understand how you can spend so much time out in the wilds.” He didn’t come to the club as often as he would have liked. His father had been a member, as had his grandfather before him. It was something members of his family did, and Randall actually liked it. Yes, the place was stodgy and slow to change, but in a way it felt like home. There was something comforting about the company of other men, friends he and his family had developed over generations. “Yes. Well….” George slowly lowered himself into one of the chairs across from him, his partner sitting next to him. Randall couldn’t help noticing both men. They were handsome, and Alan particularly so, with his sun-kissed skin and the most intense eyes Randall had ever seen. He and George had known each other since they were ten, and he considered George, now Duke of Northumberland, a relatively close friend. Alan, on the other hand, was a completely unknown quantity as far as Randall was concerned, and therefore someone to be skeptical of. “Alan and I arrived in England last week. We were back in Wyoming for a month to help Alan’s family. There’s a lot to be done this time of year, and it really is beautiful there.” Randall shuddered but did his level best not to show it. He could think of nothing worse than spending an entire month away from the civility of England. “I suppose everywhere has its charms if you look hard enough for them.” Alan cleared his throat. George gently tapped his hand, and Alan nodded but sat a little taller before turning the full impact of his gaze on Randall. “Now just how far up your ass have you pushed that stick?” There was no heat in his comment, and Randall figured Alan meant it as a joke, but he tightened his hold on his glass and blinked a few times before letting the remark pass. He was not about to make a scene or draw attention, not here. George snickered, but Randall refused to rise to anyone’s bait. “I’m just saying that I like it here. It’s civil, with all the comforts of home.” “Ones you don’t need to work for,” Alan added. He had a reputation for speaking plainly, and Randall had met him before and knew how Alan was. But his holier-than-thou attitude got under his skin. The truth was that he didn’t really like the man, but was well-mannered enough not to let it show, especially since he was George’s partner. And yet he was a little jealous of how Alan felt comfortable enough to say what was on his mind without all the social beating around the bush. One of the attendants approached, bringing him a refill of his Cognac, and Randall lifted the large glass, inhaling the deep, rich scent of the spirit before taking a sip from his glass. The attendant offered one to Goerge and Alan. “Thank you,” George said. “Can I have a whiskey, neat?” Alan said with a smile. “Thank you very much. I appreciate it.” And damned if the attendant didn’t smile back at him. These men were trained to be attentive and as unobtrusive as possible. Randall cleared his throat, and the attendant’s smile disappeared in an instant. “Don’t be a dick to the guy. I like him. The last time George dragged me to this place, he was helpful and kept me from making a fool of myself,” Alan told him as he shook his head, the attendant already on his errand to get the ordered refreshments. Too late for that, Randall thought to himself. This was a place for gentlemen, and Randall knew what that meant. Alan sat back, those long legs stretching out as he made himself comfortable. Maybe that was part of why Alan got under his skin. The man always seemed so damned comfortable wherever he went. He was sitting in Randall’s own club, and yet he looked as though he owned the place.