Diplomatic Relations Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Exclusive Excerpt

  More from J.L. Langley

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  By J.L. Langley

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  Copyright

  Diplomatic Relations

  By J.L. Langley

  A Sci-Regency Novel: sequel to My Regelence Rake

  Dalton Fairfax, Lord Ashbourne, has always flaunted the rules of Regelence high society. Despite being the heir to the Marquess of Ravensburg and cousin to the Townsend princes, Dalton found his calling in the military, first in the Intergalactic Navy and now the Regelence Special Regiment. Finally home, in the same city as the parents he seeks to avoid along with a painful past, Dalton jumps at the chance to help his planet by taking on the role of bodyguard to the heir of the Duke of Eversleigh.

  Blaise Thompson, Viscount Redding, strives to prove himself worthy of carrying on the Eversleigh legacy as the next Regelence IN council member. Maintaining his stellar reputation isn’t easy for Blaise, especially while keeping his outrageous younger brother in line and foiling his rival’s personal attacks. Ever conscious of living up to his responsibilities, Blaise has no time for romance, not even with a lusty special forces soldier.

  But opposites don’t just attract… they sizzle. And when the only way to stop a scandal that threatens them both is to compromise their principles, Blaise and Dalton are forced to confront the risk of losing everything… even each other.

  Prologue

  March 4, 4829: Planet Regelence

  Pruluce Prison, in Downtown Classige, Pruluce

  HE DID not want to die, but alas it might be too late for such thoughts. Dalton sat up on the cold stone bench that doubled as a cot, and stared through the menacing black bars of his jail cell. Someone was coming. He hadn’t mistaken the sound of the steel-barred door leading into the cellblock. The metal clang was like nothing he’d ever heard before. He’d only been here for a few hours at the most, but already he was certain he’d hear that sound in his nightmares for as long as he lived. Which might not be long. He might hang. Did they still hang people for murder?

  The sharp clap of footsteps echoed off the rock walls and came closer. In the next cell, someone’s stomach rumbled, farther down a prisoner sneezed, and the inmate near the end of the row had a flatulence problem.

  A shiver of revulsion snaked up Dalton’s back, and he wanted to cover his ears. He’d never thought himself spoiled, but galaxy, he needed out of here.

  The footsteps were right on top of him now, followed by a jangle of keys.

  He’d gotten himself into this situation, and he had no choice but to own up to it and face the consequences. Forcing himself to unwind his arms from around his legs, he dropped his bare feet onto the cold floor and stood.

  The guard stopped at his cell and another man drew up behind him.

  Dalton gulped so hard it felt like glass going down his throat.

  The dim lighting in the corridor cast the other man’s face in shadow, but there was no mistaking that tall athletic form. Uncle Raleigh’s poise spoke of discipline and grace all at once. Uncle always seemed ready for anything; he had a coiled energy even at rest. Right now, those shoulders were squared and a little rigid, like salvation and annihilation all wrapped into one.

  Dalton took a deep breath and made himself hold his ground even though he wanted to crawl beneath the bench and hide.

  He’d known his uncle would come. There had been no contest as to who he’d wanted the authorities to contact when they’d asked before stripping him of his cravat, stockings, and shoes. But now that his uncle was here, Dalton wished he wasn’t. The very idea of telling Raleigh what happened made his stomach cramp and his tongue feel as though it were three sizes too big for his mouth. Perhaps it would have been better to ask for his father? He didn’t care what his father thought of him or his actions, but Ravensburg probably would’ve ignored his call.

  The guard opened the gate and stepped aside.

  Raleigh walked into the light. His gaze swept over Dalton in one cursory glance, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Leave us.”

  The guard bowed even though Raleigh’s back was to him. “Yes, Your Majesty.” With keys clinking, he turned and retreated, leaving the metal bars wide-open and Dalton to face his judgment.

  Dalton eyed the open door. Perhaps he could disappear? Catch a ship off Regelence and—

  “You’ll never make it.”

  Dust! He raised his head, afraid of what he’d find.

  No expression at all graced Raleigh’s gray eyes, and that somehow seemed worse.

  The door at the end of the hall slammed shut as the guard exited the corridor, and Dalton jumped.

  Raleigh didn’t even blink. He stood there, staring at Dalton with his face as impassive as ever. Was he mad? Ashamed? Disappointed?

  After a few moments, Raleigh took a breath and his whole body seemed to relax. He reached out a hand toward Dalton, then the other, leaving his arms open.

  All the bravado Dalton had held on to for the last hour left him in a gasp of air. He wasn’t even sure how he ended up in his uncle’s arms—whether he moved or Raleigh had—but a sob exploded from him as Raleigh pulled him close, engulfing him in heat and comfort.

  Those arms tightened like a band, and Dalton’s tears would not be stymied. He rested his head on his uncle’s shoulder and held on. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “I know, but you have got to stop with this self-destructive behavior.” Raleigh pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “You could’ve been killed, Dalton.” The tight lines of his forehead emphasized more than his words how much the thought worried him.

  “I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

  “I know.” After touching his cheek, Raleigh walked farther into the cell and took a seat on the bench. “But it’s got to stop. In the last month, you’ve fought a duel over a married man, rode a horse naked around the Fallen Warriors Monument in Primrose Square, been seen coming out of Madam Roux’s, and now you’ve wrecked a curricle. One that didn’t belong to you, I might add.”

  Put like that, it sounded bad. Dalton supposed he’d deluded himself into thinking his uncles and cousins hadn’t heard of his exploits. “Technically, I had my shirt on as a blindfold when I raced around the monument, so I wasn’t naked.”

  One dark brow arched as Raleigh leaned back against the wall and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  Dalton sighed. Normally he prided himself of being featured in the gossip columns, but that was one exploit he wished had gone unnoticed.

  Raleigh crossed his hands over his stomach like he didn’t plan on moving for a while. It appeared this was an inquisition.

  “It was at one o’clock in the morning; there weren’t many people out at that time.”

  The other eyebrow joined the first one.

  “Fine. It was stupid.” It had been great fun, though, and…
. “I did win two hundred pounds.”

  “Well, thank galaxy for that.” Raleigh grinned but quickly masked it. “And the duel?”

  “If Viscount-Consort Lawson would keep his husband satisfied, then the viscount wouldn’t have to go elsewhere?”

  Raleigh leveled the dad stare at him.

  Don’t squirm, Dalton chided himself. He couldn’t help it, he squirmed. Damn it.

  “And what about the curricle?”

  Tonight’s events, which he’d tried hard to forget for the past hour, came back to him in a rush. He started pacing to give himself something to do, because he didn’t think he could retell the story if he had to look at his uncle. “William begged me to meet him at the races.” He hadn’t thought twice about it. He’d met the debutant the night before at the Yardley musical, and the shy man had blushed at everything. All Dalton’s previous lovers had been experienced, so the idea of deflowering an innocent had excited him. “I agreed. Everything was fine until his father showed up. The, uh, earl didn’t take it well.”

  “I wonder why?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Dalton continued, “William pleaded with me to get him out of there.”

  “So you stole one of the curricles.”

  “Borrowed.” William had mentioned being compromised, and Dalton had panicked. He’d wanted to fuck the cute little baron, not marry him. “I was going to take it back after I dropped William off at his house, but the earl caught up to us before we could even leave the park. He jumped in front of the horses, and….” Dalton stopped pacing, with his back to his uncle, and closed his eyes. His breath caught in his chest, burning like someone squeezed him. People talked about how everything seemed to slow down in a crisis, but it wasn’t true. Things didn’t slow down. They sped up. “I didn’t mean to kill him.” Tears blurred Dalton’s vision. It hadn’t seemed real until he said it out loud.

  “What? Who?” Raleigh grabbed his shoulder and spun Dalton around so fast he wobbled before catching his balance again.

  He looked at the bench, then at Raleigh. When had he moved?

  Narrowing his eyes, Raleigh joggled Dalton. “Who?”

  “The Earl of Wesley, William’s father.”

  Sliding his hands down to Dalton’s forearms, Raleigh dropped his head and his chest heaved in and out. When he raised his head again, a soft smile graced his lips. “You didn’t kill him. He got knocked unconscious.”

  Air exploded into Dalton’s lungs and his knees went rubbery. “He’s alive?”

  “Yes. He also has a much fatter purse now, thanks to you. I had to pay him a fortune to tell everyone he and his son had been walking when you nearly ran them down. He wanted you to do the right thing and marry his son.”

  At this point, marriage was the least of Dalton’s concerns. With his heart hammering against his chest, he raked a shaky hand through his hair and came away with sweat.

  “I also had to pay for Lord Henderson’s curricle and a new matched pair. He’s convinced you maimed one of the horses, though Brooks doesn’t agree. However, if it will keep him from pressing charges, it’s worth it. Now, if I can keep this out of the gossip columns, it will be a miracle. The scandal sheets adore you.”

  Brooks, the stable master at Townsend Castle, excelled at her job. If she thought the horse was all right, then it was. “So, I can go… home?” The smile slipped from his face, and his stomach dropped again. Home was the castle—not Fairfax House—and he couldn’t go there. Damned laws.

  “No.”

  “I know I can’t go back to the castle, but—”

  Raleigh began shaking his head.

  A chill swept over Dalton at the expression of regret on his uncle’s face. “What? You said he wasn’t dead and that I could go.”

  Raleigh drew in a deep breath, then huffed it out, making the black hair on his forehead flutter. Those steel gray eyes, which were identical to Dalton’s, stared at him steady and sure as he reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out folded white papers. “You will be released on one condition.”

  Dalton shook his head, not understanding.

  “You know that I love you, Dalton. Don’t you?”

  He did know because his uncle—both his uncles—had told him often growing up. More importantly they’d showered him with attention and lots of hugs. Dalton nodded, but the hair on his arms stood up.

  “I don’t trust you to behave yourself. Not as long as you have to live with my brother.” Raleigh touched his cheek. “If I could legally bring you home with me, I would, but you are heading in a direction that you might never return from, and I can’t let that happen.”

  Dalton deflated a little. He’d done things in the last year that he would never have dared while living with his uncle, but when his father had sent for him and made him move back in with his parents after ten years, Dalton had gone a little crazy. He’d acted more like the eight-year-old his father had sent away than the nineteen-year-old he was now. He’d caused scandal after scandal. At first he’d hoped his parents would send him back to his uncle, but they hadn’t, and Dalton had lost control. Being bad had become… fun. He’d done things that no young lord of his age was allowed to do, and he’d stopped caring what his parents or society thought of him.

  “And we need to let this latest scandal blow over…. Therefore, I’ve purchased you a commission in the IN.” Raleigh held out the papers.

  With a shaky hand, Dalton took them. He was being sent away? Again? He glanced down at the commission, then up at his uncle.

  Raleigh’s stern expression never wavered.

  “But….”

  “You have only two choices. You can stay in here charged with theft, or go into the Intergalactic Navy. Do your two years there, come home, and do your two years in the Regelence Navy. We will tell everyone that you always wanted to join the Regelence Navy, like my father. I seem to remember you wanting to do just that as a child.”

  “Yes.” Dalton studied the papers. When he was young, he had wanted to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps, but he’d long since outgrown that notion. Now, though, he didn’t want to leave his family. He wanted to move back home to the castle with them, even though he knew he couldn’t. “My father doesn’t know, does he?”

  Raleigh shook his head. “I’ll deal with my brother.”

  By law, even though Dalton was not of age by Regelence standards, he could join the IN without parental consent. The IN’s legal age was only eighteen, and in five months, Dalton would be twenty.

  Glancing around the cell, at its harsh stone walls, he shivered. He could not remain imprisoned. Maybe that meant he was the spoiled aristocrat the guards had accused him of being, but he knew he’d never last in here, and he didn’t want to go back to live with his parents.

  He peered up at his uncle’s face. Would he really leave me here? If Raleigh thought it best, he would, and that firm jaw said so, loud and clear.

  Nauseous and with no other choice, Dalton agreed. “I’ll do it.”

  Chapter One

  Rumor has it, a certain demon lord has come home for good. One wonders how many duels we will see this season?

  —From The Classige Morning News, On-Dit column

  March 1, 4831: Planet Regelence

  Lawson Street Market in Downtown Classige, Pruluce (the ruling country of Regelence)

  THE PLACE was madness, complete and utter madness. Standing just inside the main gate of the street market, Blaise watched wide-eyed, a sense of disgust and wonder all rolled into one, as a hawker strolled by with some sort of meat on a stick.

  The sun was barely up, yet dozens of rows of whitewashed stalls filled with food and all manner of goods dominated every inch of free space; people filled the rest. Peddlers competed for attention by shouting over one another, and the smells…. They all meshed together in a collage of sweet, sour, sautéed onions, and sweat. As if the scent of onions by itself wasn’t bad enough. He’d come here to find someone, but he’d had no idea the place would be so large and…
busy.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” With his hands stuffed down in the pockets of his greatcoat, Bannon sidled up next to him, staring slack-jawed at the hustle and bustle in front of them.

  Bannon’s valet, Louisa—who acted as their chaperone—stood next to him with a similar expression on her face.

  Shrugging, Blaise breathed into his gloved hands, trying to warm his nose and mute the smells around him. He’d been wondering the same thing. It wasn’t his best idea, but he didn’t have any other options. His father was Regelence’s IN councilman and in charge of protecting Regelence’s interests within the IN. At the top of the list of concerns, he wanted Admiral Jenkins and his wife found. As an intern in the council office, Blaise’s suggestions had fallen on deaf ears, so he’d taken matters into his own hands. If you wanted something done right…. “The runner said he trailed Betty Jenkins’s former lady’s maid here. She sells melons.”

  “Then why not have the runner contact the maid?” Bannon huffed out a breath and fogged the air around him. “We’re wasting our time here. We could be at the haberdashery instead, shopping for a new hat.”

  Rolling his eyes, Blaise grabbed his younger brother by the arm and pulled them into the tidal wave of people. “Because I can’t continue to pay a runner out of my allowance or Father will get suspicious and realize I’m investigating this on my own.” He stopped for a woman pushing a trolley full of pottery.

  “Why are you investigating this on your own?” Louisa leaned past Bannon to meet Blaise’s gaze.

  “Because the others won’t listen to me. They think there’s nothing to be gained by talking to the Jenkinses’ servants.” It was rather shortsighted on their part. The group had runners—paid for by the IN Councilman’s Committee, of course—investigating neighbors and family members. Which was a good idea, but Blaise hadn’t lived as heir to a dukedom for the past twenty-two years without learning a thing or two. If you wanted gossip, you went downstairs to the servants’ quarters to get it.