Prologue: The Letter

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The newly-wedded Lady Minerva Catherine Montgomery's letter to her husband, the future Duke of Rothbury. Folded into an envelope haphazardly and smelling vaguely of whiskey.



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Lord Benedict William Montgomery's best attempt at deciphering his wife's clearly drunk and nearly illegible hand:

Dearest Benedict,

You insufferable, unmitigated rat bastard.

Do you think I shall weep and wallow in the wake of your actions?! Your absence suits me just fine! I shall have the adventure of a lifetime!

You wish for us to take lovers? Fine! I will take lovers! I shall take ten lovers! Nay, a hundred lovers more handsome than you!

In fact, I believe I shall make a harem out of Hartley Manor!

I don't need you for anything. In fact, I shall bloody- as you pompous Brits are so fond of saying- thrive without you! To the devil with you for all I care!

And damn you to hell for leaving me here with your mother!

Good bloody riddance, you son of a bitch.

He had stared at it in varying levels of anger, horror, and irritation. Who the bloody hell did she think she was to speak to him in such a way?! Again she found a way to show her uncouth origins.

Americans, he had scowled in distaste. They wouldn't know decency if it bit them in the arse. 

He ought to have tossed it into the fire where it belonged. The woman was truly improper. Who would dare speak to their husband thus?

 And yet, to date, it can be found sitting in his drawers in the office of his London townhouse.

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