“Her second cousin,” Lord Wetherby corrected. “Since when have you been so interested in her?”
“Since always,” the other said. “I might even have thought of marrying her myself if it hadn’t been for you. But there was always you from the time she was a child. And the poor chit has been loyal to you ever since. I know the sort of life you have led, Justin, and I can’t criticize because it is much the same as the life I am leading. But wives and mistresses don’t mix in my vocabulary, especially when the wife happens to be Annabelle and the mistress Rosamund.”
“Well.” Lord Wetherby strolled toward his friend, who was standing with his feet apart, fists clenched at his sides. “Since you seem to have a genuine concern, Josh, I will say this: in a few days’ time this betrothal will finally be official and there will be no other woman but Annabelle for the rest of my life. Does that satisfy you?”
“When did you meet Rosamund?” Lord Beresford asked. “She has been in Lincolnshire for years and only recently came back, so I have heard.”
“We met recently,” the earl said.
“Have you had her?” the other asked quietly.
“Oh, no.” Lord Wetherby shook his head. “That is none of your concern, my friend. What are you doing out here alone, anyway?”
“Just be thankful that I am alone,” Lord Beresford said. “My great-uncle beat me twice at billiards, Strangelove was not there to give me the benefit of his superior conversation, and Rosamund was not there to be flirted with. Besides, I had something on my mind. Annabelle, actually.”
“Annabelle?”
“Did she tell you that I kissed her yesterday and she smacked my face?” Lord Beresford asked. “No, I can see she didn’t. I didn’t think she had, or you would doubtless have felt obliged to slap a glove in my face. I was teasing her, as I have done all my life, but she wasn’t amused. You need to look to her, Justin. You need to find out why she doesn’t ever smile. She doesn’t know about you and Rosamund, does she?”
“No,” Lord Wetherby said. He looked closely and consideringly at his friend. “And I’m not blind, either, Josh, or insensitive. I know she is unhappy. Have you always flirted with her?”
“Flirted?” His friend laughed. “She has been a child until very recently.”
“Except that girls are not children as long as we are,” the earl said.
“Well, anyway,” Lord Beresford said, “I felt badly about it and came out here to think. And look what I found. I’m only thankful that you didn’t have her mounted.”
“Don’t blame Rosamund,” Lord Wetherby said. “I persuaded her to come out here with me after the marchioness and Strangelove between them forced us into each other’s company. And she was the one who kept a cool head and saved you from major embarrassment.”
“You would have had her, then,” the other said, his jaw setting into a hard line, his hands in fists again. “You would have done that to Annabelle.” He lifted one of his fists suddenly and hit Lord Wetherby a powerful hook to the jaw with it, the whole of his weight behind it. The earl fell heavily.
“Get up,” Lord Beresford said, standing over him, “and fight like a man.”
The earl got to his feet slowly, touching his jaw gingerly and working it from side to side, half-expecting that it was broken.
“No, I don’t think I will, Josh,” he said. “I have the feeling I rather deserved that,”
The fight went out of his friend. “You love her, don’t you?” he said. “Damn it, you love Rosamund and are going to marry Annabelle.”
“I’ll make her a good husband,” Lord Wetherby said.
“Over my dead body!” Lord Beresford turned without another word and made his way back through the trees the way he had come. His limp, Lord Wetherby noticed, was more pronounced than usual.
And the earl was left to nurse his smarting jaw and bathe it with cold lake water and know that he had indeed deserved it, and more. It would have served him right if Josh had beaten him to a pulp. And he could probably have done it, too. He had been a soldier and even now spent far more time at Jackson’s Boxing Saloon than the earl did, though he was by no means unfit. But if Josh had wanted to fight it out, Lord Wetherby was afraid that his heart would not have been in defeating him.
It was true. He had deliberately brought Rosamund out there, knowing full well that it was wrong to do so. And he had held her and kissed her and done nothing to struggle against his feelings for her. He would have made love to her if she had given him the smallest encouragement. It was pointless to deny that it was so.
What he had done was in the worst of bad taste, to say the very least. It would have been grossly unfair to Rosamund and he would have risked impregnating her. If the time had been wrong five weeks before, it was quite possibly right now. And it would have been unfair to Annabelle even if she had never known of it. If he could not control himself now, would he be able to do so for the rest of his life as her husband?
He stooped down beside the water, soaked his handkerchief, and pressed it against his jaw. He had not let her go at all, had he? Almost five weeks had passed since he had watched his carriage take her out of his life—as he had thought. But every day since, every night, he had clung to the memory of her. He had wanted her with every breath he drew. And now that she was back in his life, he did not seem to have the will to shake himself free of her.
He had never known anything like it, would never have thought it possible. Although for years he had kept mistresses for varying lengths of time and remained faithful to them for as long as they were in his keeping, he had always believed that changing his affections was something he could do at will.
He was not sure it was possible with Rosamund. Or rather he was sure. He was sure that it was impossible.
Josh must be right, he thought, getting to his feet and squeezing the moisture out of his handkerchief. He must love Rosamund.
And he noticed instantly how his thinking had undergone a subtle change. He had wondered before if he were in love with her, had even conceded that he probably was and would remain so until time wore off the feeling. Now he wondered no longer. He knew. And he was not in love with her.
