The Duke of Pemberton awoke in a terrible mood. His head was pounding, and he was still wearing his clothes from the night before. He smelled of cigars and spirits, and his mouth was as dry as the Sierra desert.

So much for diversions he thought. He hadn't succeeded one bit at getting the girl off his mind. He lost thirty quid at the tables, and was now feeling the effects of all the Brandy he consumed. In fact he didn't even remember getting into bed, let alone coming home. He supposed Sutton must have carried him in. Although if he remembered right, Johnathon was heavily in his cups as well.

"What the Hell!" Alexander sat up from his prone position and cursed aloud. Someone had actually dared open the the bed curtains allowing the blasted light to shine in. This only added to the pain in his head. Alexander reopened his eyes, squinting to see who was there. It was his valet Withers, moving industriously about his room.

Closing his eyes Alexander layed back down, threw the pillow over his face, and groaned aloud. Withers of course ignored this, after all it was the job of a good valet to get his employer up and ready, no matter how bad he felt. It was times like these he wished Withers wasn't so good at his damn job.

Withers cleared his throat, Hmm, hmm! "Your Grace, he intoned. I've prepared your bath and pressed your suit. Shall I set out the new, blue waistcoat for your mother's garden party?"

"What the devil are you blathering on about now Withers?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "What I would like, is to be left alone, in peace," he growled at the valet.

Alexander always treated his servants kindly, so Withers took his less then stellar mood with a grain of salt, and answered the Duke's question.

"Your Mother, the Dowager," He stated, raising an arched brow at the Duke. Alexander rolled his eyes, as if he didn't know who Withers' was referring too. "Her garden party is today your Grace. It's at noon and its already half past ten. Would you like me to offer your condolences, your Grace, he said while pulling out Alexander's jacket?"

"Damn," he swore aloud. He had forgotten all about his mother's party. In fact, he had been so distracted of late, he had cried off from most of the tons events.

However, one did not miss the Dowager Duchesses parties. So, Alexander rolled over, burrowed under the covers and groaned once more. He was in no condition to deal with his mother or the match making mama's, not to mention the twittering, insipid debutantes that would be paraded before him. However, there was nothing for it. He was the Duke, and as such, he had responsibilities.

With an exasperated sigh, he sat up in bed, and answered his valet. "No, It would be more torturous if I didn't show, you know how my mother can be Withers. If Withers agreed he would not let it show. A good man servant did not discuss or comment on his employers habits, or that of a Dowager.

"The blue waiscoat will be fine Withers. However, I'm afraid I will need a shave as well."

"Yes, your grace, I'll go and prepare for it now. Would you like assistance with your bath your Grace?" Inquired Withers.

"No! He exclaimed. I am perfectly capable of bathing myself, thank you. I could however, use a cup of tea and some of those muffins cook bakes."

"Yes, your Grace, right away your Grace," said Withers as he rushed out the door.

Alexander hauled himself out of bed, removed his rumpled clothing and put on his banyan. He then headed for his bath. Maybe, he thought to himself, a long soak would make him feel better. At least a little better than he felt at the moment.

An hour in a half later he was bathed, shaved, dressed, and ready to head downstairs. To his suprise his mother was waiting for him in the foyer. He leaned in kissed his mother on the cheek, and apologized for keeping her waiting.

"Please excuse my tardiness mother. I'm afraid I was a little indisposed this morning."

"A little indisposed Alexander? Is that what they call it these days? She asked. I'm afraid the whole house heard how indisposed you were, she said with a scowl on her face."

She then turned away to instruct one of the many servants passing by. Alexander flushed from the set down. He may be a Duke but the Dowager was still his mother, and one did not argue with her. She waved a hand at him in disregard as she turned to answer another servants question. Finished with her task she continued on.

"You are excused, as the guests haven't started to arrive yet. Fotunately for us, members of the ton never arrive on time. You know how they are these days. Everyone wants to be fashionably late, therefore everyone, is late. However, that is not the reason I was waiting for you."

"Actually Alexander, I was hoping to get a word with you in private if I may?"

Alexander grimaced, a word usually meant that she wanted to lecture him. Usually it about his duties as the Duke. He had heard it all before. You must marry, you must produce an heir, you are the last in line, ECT. ECT.. So as any good son would do, he resigned himself with the regalness of a Duke that he was, and gave into her wishes.

"Certainly your Grace, after you." He demured as he bowed and waved his arm in the direction of his study, wondering what on earth she wanted from him now.

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