All the gentlemen around the table had pushed their chairs back and focused on the door. A few moments later, Tewkesbury and Vivian’s father stood just inside the room, waiting.
Lord Brackford bowed to Lady Telford, then to the company at large. “I didn’t realize you had company.” His gaze focused on Vivian. “Let’s go, my girl. You’ll move home until the wedding.”
She paled, but remained seated and raised her determined chin. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Father, but the only place I shall remove to is my new house.”
He glanced at Tewkesbury and smiled. “See, I told you she’d go along. Always has been a biddable puss.” Brackford directed his attention back to Vivian. “No need for that. If you wish Tewkesbury here . . .” Vivian’s father screwed up his face. “I didn’t tell you who you’d be marrying.”
“Father, I am already re-married. We shall shortly be leaving for the wedding breakfast.”
A flush rose in the older man’s face, mottling his already florid complexion. “Nonsense. No one has written me asking for your hand. I refuse to allow you to wed anyone else but Lord Tewkesbury. You will do as I say. His lordship and I have settled the business.”
Rupert had had enough. Just how thickheaded was his new father-in-law? “My lord.” Rupert waited until Brackford realized he’d been spoken to. “Vivian and I wed two hours ago.” The other man stared at Rupert, his eyes glazing over as if he didn’t understand. “She is now the Countess of Stanstead.”
“But . . . but . . . I made a promise to Lord Tewkesbury.”
At the other end of the table, Lady Telford looked down her nose at Vivian’s father. “Lord Brackford, has it escaped your notice that Vivian was not only past her age of majority, but a widow as well? You had no business, indeed no right, to promise her to another without her consent.”
The man stood stock still, jaw hanging as if in shock.
For the love of God.Rupert squeezed Vivian’s hand. “Sweetheart, I know he’s your father, but he must either give up this foolish notion and congratulate us on our marriage, or leave. I will not have him upsetting you in any way. Not to-day or in the future.”
Tewkesbury, who had been surveying the room as he bounced on his toes, suddenly seemed to take notice. “You mean it’s already done? You’re leg-shackled?”
“Christ almighty,” Nick swore. “What the devil do you think Stanstead has been saying? Are the both of you deaf and dumb?”
Tewkesbury turned red enough to have apoplexy and roared, “Brackford, you promised one bitch for another!”
This time, Rupert had no hesitation. Before the cur could spew another vile word, he punched the man in his stomach and then his nose. Tewkesbury swayed, then dropped to the ground, holding his cravat to his nose. “You struck me.”
“Call my wife vulgar names again and I’ll do worse than that. I’ve had enough of your offensive analogies. If you utter another insult concerning her, you may choose your second.”
The older man propped himself up on his elbows. “See here, young man.”
“I’d stop if I were you.” Hawksworth, who had accompanied his brother Octavius, grinned wickedly. “Stanstead has one of the steadiest tempers I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t count on his patience lasting. He may never have fought a duel, but I’ve never seen him lose, be it in the ring, pistols, or sword.”
Lady Brackford, who also appeared to have had enough, rose from the table. “Henry Brackford, stop acting like a knock-in-the-cradle, rubbishing commoner. Be a man and get rid of this poor excuse for excrement. You may also congratulate your daughter on making a better match by herself than you could ever have made for her.”
Not knowing what else Tewkesbury was capable of, Rupert stood over the man as he struggled to stand. “Barnes.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Have his lordship escorted out.”
“It would be my pleasure, my lord.”
Barnes snapped his fingers and two burly footmen grabbed Tewkesbury’s arms. “Thetonwill hear about this, my lord,” Tewkesbury shouted down the corridor.
“Good.” Rupert was proud he kept his voice even. “Then they will know not to ever insult my wife.”
There was a screech and the sound of a door slamming shut. Had Barnes actually had the man thrown out of the house? If so, good for him.
Narrowing his eyes, Rupert stalked over to Lord Brackford. “What is it to be, my lord? Do you wish to maintain relations with my wife”—that fact seemed to bear repeating—“or not?”
Lord Brackford searched those present, his gaze locking on his wife. “Miriam, you would allow me to be thrown out?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “I would do it myself.”
He turned toward Vivian. “Vivian, you owe a duty to your father.” She rose from the table, moved to stand next to Rupert, and took his hand. “I owe a greater obligation to my husband.”
