The Duke of Mountbatten

~Leander~

Steam clung to my skin as I stepped out of the bath, the long soak finally washing away the exhaustion of the past two relentless months. As I walked from the parlor room to the closet, the scent of freshly baked bread and fried eggs infiltrated my senses.

But where the hell was my coffee? I made a mental note to deal with my incompetent chambermaid later. After flipping through the mail she had left on the dresser, I ran my fingers through my damp hair, shaking off the last of the steam. Mr. Gilbert, who was my dresser and advisor, should be here soon. Tossing the towel aside, I reached for a crisp white shirt. 

An unwanted moan resonated through the bedroom. Sprawled across my four-poster bed was my sister's friend, with her lustful gaze brushing over my naked body with no modesty.

What the fuck was she still doing here?

I had wanted her gone before I even stepped into the bathroom. She was a good fuck, but I was done with her.

"Get out!"

"Leo, you treat me like I'm some poor, filthy wench."

"I don't sleep with wenches and maids," I said flatly, "Now leave."

A pout twisted her full lips. "Oh, come on, Leo. You were so horny for me last night. Are you really telling me you don't want these anymore?"

"No, I don't," I replied without looking at her. It wasn't like I was deprived of sex. There's no dearth of options when wealthy and beautiful women would strip for me at the snap of my finger. 

"Leo, just look at me once---"

"This is the last time I am asking you nicely. Leave. Now!"

Her eyebrows lifted slightly as if in shock before fear took over. Grabbing her belongings, she scuffled through the doorway as quickly as she could.

This was getting old. I couldn't stand disobedience. I disliked overconfident people who oozed with such a smarmy attitude.

Why did every woman think she was so special that I would want more from her? 

They must be confusing me with my father. Love was his weakness, a debilitating disease that crippled his ambition. I wasn't like him. Power, legacy, unlimited wealth... these were the things that fueled me. There was never any room for the mushy nonsense like love, caring more for someone else’s happiness, prioritizing their needs over mine, ugh! Such bullcrap.

"Your Grace..."

A hesitant knock sounded at the door before my perpetually flustered chambermaid, Mrs. Finch, slipped inside. Instead of my coffee, she brought in a bowl of neatly sliced fruit. The fried eggs had been sitting out while I was in the bath, so they had of course gone cold. Before I could unleash a tirade, the door burst open wider, revealing a hurricane of energy in the form of my little nephew, Nico.

"Uncle Leo!" he shrieked, barreling past Mrs. Finch and launching himself straight at me. I laughed as I caught him and lifted him off the floor. Ah, this little rascal had my heart wrapped around his finger.

"Whoa there, buddy?" I chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Don't call me buddy anymore. I named the new black stallion Buddy."

"Ooh, did you mount him yet?"

He shook his head in disappointment while adjusting his woolen hat.

"No, Mother won't let me." He looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can you talk to her? Please?"

Ugh, I'd rather argue with a boulder than try to reason with my twin sister. Mabel was stubborn to her core. She was one of the many reasons I had no intention of ever marrying for love. Our parents had searched far and wide to find her the best possible suitors, men of pedigree and power, but she had chosen to believe in some loser ass's words who professed his undying love for her.

Mabel had a tendency to forget that she was a Noble, with a fortune that could buy a small kingdom if she wished. Men swarmed around her all the time for all the wrong reasons, just as fortune hunters and gold-digging women flocked around me. Even if I had been the ugliest Duke to ever walk the earth, my wealth and power would have blinded them all the same.

My poor sister learned that lesson the hard way. After one failed marriage and then a crushing heartbreak with another man, she swore off love entirely. Now, all that pent-up affection manifested in smothering my adorable nephew. She hired and fired many nannies, tutors, and trainers for him throughout his seven years of sheltered life.      

The last nursemaid she hired to take care of Nico finally seemed promising at first. That was before I realized she was about as trustworthy as a fox in a henhouse. My enemy had placed her perfectly, close enough to watch me, close enough to spy on my conversations, close enough to try to seduce her way into my bed. She took every opportunity to just wander into the hallway and slip into my suite under the excuse that Nico wanted to see me. She had the body of a nymph, definitely worth fucking a few times.

But here's what my enemy failed to understand about me: I didn't dabble in affairs with maids or impoverished women. Their oppressed financial condition, lack of proper etiquette, and the dearth of cultural experiences were all major turnoffs to me. My conquests, a carefully curated collection of women, hailed from the finest lineages, women polished with etiquette and conversation as exquisite as their jewels. Marriage was never about passion; it was a game of strategy, and these women were the perfect pawns.

No matter how charming these ladies of class and elegance were, I made it a point not to sleep with the same woman twice. I couldn't afford to repeat my father's mistake. Emotions and attachments were for the weak. He had thrown away the opportunity to become the King of Arcadia for love, dragging us all this far north instead, into bitter winters and cold rains.

Uncle Damien, who was the Crown Prince of Arcadia and my father's eldest brother, was brutally assassinated. Uncle Stephen, who was next in line for the crown, was hopelessly incompetent. Everyone knew it. Whispers filled the court, a chorus of agreement that my father, with his sharp mind and natural charisma, was the true king in waiting. My grandfather is still holding on to the throne to this day, for my father to change his mind and claim his destiny.

From him, I inherited the good looks. The intellect. The political savvy. What I didn't inherit was his weakness for love. I was far too shrewd to prioritize dumb rat shite like love and passion over my ambition. Love makes a fool out of you and allows others to use it against you. It's a big liability. I love Mabel and Nico to pieces, and it was the first thing my enemy tried to wield against me to bring me down.

Pushing my loved ones away was, of course, not an option, but controlling my romantic entanglements? That was a battle I could easily win.      

One thing remained unshakable: I would never lay claim to a woman, and no woman would ever have a claim on me.