The Earl of House Mackey was not a man given to indulgent pleasures. His life had been devoted to a singular purpose: restoring his family's name to the glory it once held.
Tragedy had cast a long shadow over the Mackey lineage. His mother, driven to despair by her husband's refusal to release her from a loveless union, had taken her own life. The scandal rocked society and nearly destroyed their family's reputation.
As if that weren't enough, whispers of witchcraft clung to his sister. The rumors forced the family to exile her, lest her alleged sorcery drag their name further into disgrace.
Now, the Earl was the last of the Mackey bloodline. His own wife's untimely demise left him alone to shoulder the weight of his family's legacy.
With a son left in his sister's care, residing in her lively palace filled with children, the Earl hoped to shield the boy from the dark shadow that loomed over the Mackey family. The presumed curse of their bloodline was better left behind.
No one could break it.
The Mackey name did not deserve happiness, and perhaps it never would.
The Earl sighed, his gloved hand cradling a glass of untouched wine. Despite the bright and sunny day outside, he felt utterly alone. His eyes wandered across the perfect carpet of grass that stretched endlessly around his chateau.
The estate was far too large for one man.
At fifty, his life of relentless work had brought wealth and success, but no peace. He was profoundly unhappy. What other path could lead to this elusive happiness?
A whisper from his valet interrupted his brooding. "Count George seeks your presence, my lord."
The Earl muttered under his breath. The Count was known for his eccentric pleasures, but boredom and a need for diversion tugged at him. Despite his misgivings, he decided to indulge the invitation.
Rising to his full height—an imposing 6'8", the only gift his parents had truly bestowed upon him—he prepared for the visit. The carriage ride to the Count's estate was uneventful, save for the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the lively chatter of the evening market outside.
When the carriage halted, Gregory Martin, the Count, greeted him with boyish enthusiasm at the door.
"Lord Mackey," Gregory said brightly.
"Lord Martin," the Earl replied, tipping his hat.
"I have something to show you," Gregory declared, leading him to the opulent living room. Though not as grand as his own estate, Gregory's penchant for boasting was ever apparent.
"Please, sit," the Count gestured. A maid entered with port, and the Earl raised a weary brow.
"You'll need it," Gregory added with a smirk, taking a sip and exhaling smoke.
The Earl sighed, reluctantly taking the port. "Lord Martin, I trust you know I do not often indulge. My time is not easily wasted."
"But the port is of good quality," he admitted, tasting it.
"It's imported from Spain," Gregory replied proudly, basking in the moment as another maid entered, escorting a young woman. She was of average beauty, with curly brown hair and fair skin.
"Penelope," Gregory announced. "She's twenty-four, stands at five-foot-five, with a wide bosom and slim hips. I purchased her for a fine sum of silver."
The woman bowed. "It is an honor, Lord Mackey."
The Earl's expression hardened. "A slave? So, you've joined the other aristocrats in these distasteful practices?"
"Oh, not at all," Gregory said, stroking a cat that climbed onto his lap. "I treat mine well. Penelope is more of a companion… a confidante, if you will."
Lord Mackey set the port down abruptly and stood. "Enough, Gregory. Yesterday, it was your infamous pleasure chamber—something we do not speak of in polite society. Today, this. I've had my fill of your antics."
Gregory chuckled. "Should you change your mind, Lord Mackey, I'll happily take you shopping."
The Earl scoffed. "When have I ever requested such nonsense?"
"You will, in time," Gregory replied slyly. "Old bachelors like us need company."
"I am a widower, Gregory. I have an heir and no need for companionship—only peace of mind." With a curt nod, he turned to leave. "Good day."
"Whenever you're ready, my friend," Gregory called after him, his laughter trailing behind.