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“Good evening, Minette,” said Arlington to his sister. “I trust you’re well?” He regarded Josephine in her ruffled ivory gown. “Is this one of your little friends?”
Warren glared a warning at Minette before she could explode with all the news of the previous week. “Arlington, August, I’m pleased to introduce my new wife, Lady Warren.”
Both men turned to stare at him, mid-mouthful. He supposed the news must come as a shock. Now that they understood the lady was not part of Minette’s menagerie of friends, they sat up straighter and ceased shoveling poppy seed cake down their throats. A blush crept up about their ears.
“I did not hear you had married,” said August. “Congratulations.”
“Yes, indeed.” Arlington’s voice sounded almost normal. “Felicitations to you both.”
An awkward silence settled over the table. Arlington was the first to recover and politely address his wife.
“We are honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Warren. Tell us, where did the two of you meet?”
“At Lord and Lady Baxter’s home in Hertfordshire,” Josephine replied, staring down at her plate.
Warren could see Minette practically in flames to say something. He shook his head at her with another warning glance and offered the agreed upon explanation for their marriage. “We took a great tendre to one another at the Baxters’ house party and decided to wed at Chapley by special license. It was only a short time ago.”
“How wonderful,” said August. His dry response communicated that he didn’t believe that explanation in the slightest.
“Lady Warren has traveled all over the world,” Minette finally burst out. “She is the Baroness Maitland also. She’s just returned to England after oh so many years, and we’re already like sisters.”
August glanced at Minette in amusement. “I’m sure you are.”
“Maitland?” said Arlington thoughtfully. “Aren’t his holdings in Oxfordshire too?”
“They’re very near to mine,” Warren said with a nod, “and they’re my wife’s holdings now, since the tragic death of her parents in India last year.”
August and Arlington offered condolences and shoveled in more cake, while Josephine blushed, and Minette made puppy dog eyes at August. Her infatuation with the brusque, dark-haired man was a running joke, although August was kind to her about it.
“Minette,” Warren said, when her mooning grew uncomfortably obvious, “if you and Lady Warren have finished, perhaps you would like to retire to the drawing room for a bit of tea.”
The gentlemen stood as the ladies took their leave. He could tell Minette would have preferred to stay, but a subtle arch of his brow had her flouncing out with one last lingering smile at August.
The door had barely shut when August braced his arms upon the table and scowled at him. “What on earth? Married? We were barely out of town a week.”
The servants brought port, which Warren poured for his friends. “Sometimes a week is long enough. Sometimes one day will do the trick.”
Arlington thrust a hand through his thick golden hair and took a drink. “You might have warned us. Sent a note round or something.”
“Yes,” agreed August. “I nearly toppled over when you said ‘here’s my new wife,’ and her just sitting there like a shiny little dove. For God’s sake, you should have come with us to Bath.”
“And done what? Fawned over some actress who’s slept with everyone and their brother? I have a sister to marry off, you know. There are always single gentlemen at the Baxters’ gatherings.”
August snorted. “One less, now.”
Arlington held up a hand to head off a spat. “You just took us by surprise, old man. First Townsend and now you. That’s two out of the four of us, leg-shackled. What’s the world coming to?”
“The both of you can sod off. I had no choice, as it happens.”
“No choice?” said August. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it was me, or the blasted Earl of Stafford to ravage her fortune. What was I to do?”
August and Arlington looked at each other. “Was it as grave as all that?” August said. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“You played the hero then.” Arlington tsked in sympathy. “At such a price.”
Warren shrugged, tracing the swirling pattern carved into the arm of the chair. “I got married, that’s all. You and August will have to marry too someday. We’ve played at rebelliousness and dissolution for a long time, and it was fun, but it’s not reality. We’re all only sons and we all have a duty to get heirs.”
His lecture did nothing to alleviate the somber mood at the table. He poured them all more port.
“She’s not so bad, anyway,” Warren said, picking up his glass. “I could have done worse, like Lord Rowley’s chit with the horse face, or that brainless china doll that August will have to marry.”
“I’m not offering for Lady Priscilla,” he said with a frown.
“Your father believes otherwise, and so does hers.” He cut off his friend before he could argue. “The point is, it’s done and I have to make the best of the situation.”
“Peace, friend,” said Arlington. “You did the right thing. It only takes some getting used to, you know? The notorious Wild Warren, a married man.”
“Neither of us was very happy about it. Baxter pressed the match.”
“Hard luck,” said August. “But things will work out. Remember how Townsey and Aurelia didn’t want to marry? Now they make everyone sick, the way they fawn about and gaze at one another.”
“Rather the way Minette gazes at you,” Arlington said out of the side of his mouth.
“I’m throwing a ball here weekend after next,” Warren announced. “I wish both of you would come and lend an air of respectability to the proceedings.”
Arlington flicked a look at August. “You’re looking to the wrong chaps for respectability but if you want us here, we’ll come, eh, Augustine?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said in the tone of a martyr being led before lions.
“I should explain there was a bit of a to-do at the Baxters’ that necessitated a quick wedding. I’d like this ball to silence any gossip about forced marriages and inappropriate behavior.”
“Inappropriate behavior?” Arlington’s brows rose. “On whose part?”
“Mine, of course,” he answered impatiently. “Baxter caught me with Josephine in the woods. Alone.”
“Bet he didn’t like that,” said August.
Warren shrugged. “It gave him the excuse he needed, and honestly, it felt good to put Stafford out of the running. He planned to squander Josephine’s inheritance and stash her in Bedlam if she complained.” Warren tipped back the last of his port.
“Stafford and those rings,” said August with an eye-roll.
“I gather he’s not invited to the ball,” said Arlington.
“He’s the goddamned reason for it. He’s been spreading nasty gossip about me and Josephine, like any weak, pathetic man would.” A feral sense of protectiveness infused Warren’s voice. He had come to care for his wife’s well-being, stubborn and moody as she was. Again, August and Arlington exchanged glances, half-ironic, half-concerned.
“We’ll keep an eye out for him then,” August said. “And plant him a facer when he crosses our paths.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
