“And your guest, Your Grace?”
“Oh, he won’t be here,” Edward said. “Of that, you can be sure.”
With that said, Edward made his way through the manor and toward his office. He was more than aware of what this coming conversation would bring, and he spent that walk preparing himself.
Sure enough, when he walked into his office, he found his guest sitting in Edward’s chair. Feet up on the table. A glass of brandy in his hand. He saw Edward walk through the door and rather than apologizing, he held Edward’s eyes and took a purposeful sip of his glass of brandy.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Edward said dryly.
“I believe that I am.”
Percival Gambrill, the Duke of Tamblyn was Edward’s oldest and only friend. It was the type of friendship born from practicality, as Percival was the only man living capable of standing up to and speaking down to Edward without wetting himself.
Are we really friends? Or are we just the only two men able to stand one another?
He was a cold fish. Rarely did he make jokes. Rarely did he smile. And rarely did he give any indication that he cared what people thought about him. Tall like Edward, dark of feature too, his face was long, his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were black pits that bore little to no emotion.
“What are you doing here, Percival?” Edward sighed as he walked into the office.
“What? Can’t a friend stop by to see how another friend is doing?”
“A friend can,” Edward said. When he reached the table and shoved Percival’s legs off the desk. “But you? I won’t waste our time pretending that is why you are here.”
Percival chuckled dryly as he stood from behind the desk and walked around it so that Edward could take his chair back. Percival had a final mouthful of brandy, placed down the empty glass, and sat neatly in the chair across from him. There, he sat straight, hands folded on the desk.
“I came on account of curiosity,” Percival said.
“Meaning?”
“A little bird visited me earlier,” his friend continued. “And this bird’s song was a most curious thing. It told of a duke waltzing through St. James’ Park, arm in arm with a madwoman, laughing and skipping and --”
“Enough with the theatrics,” Edward sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, I went for a promenade with Miss Celestine Hargrave today. What of it?”
Percival exhaled sharply through his nose. “When you told me what you meant to do, I thought you had lost your mind. When you told me who you meant to do it with, I knew you had. Now that said plan is in action, I cannot help but wonder…” He cocked a thin eyebrow at Edward. “How much of what you are doing is a lie and how much of it is real?”
“Is that why you are here?” Edward looked flatly at his friend. “Do you really mean to suggest that I…” He scoffed. “That this engagement is real?”
“Is it?” Percival asked simply. “By all accounts the two of you made a most picturesque couple.”
“Which is the exact point,” Edward said. “This entire plan hinges on the notion that we want to be together. That our engagement is true.”
“You always were a good actor. But you were neverthatgood.”
Edward looked flatly at his friend, making sure there was no chance that his next words might be misheard. “You know why I do this. You know how important it is. And, as I have told you, so does Miss Celestine. We are playing a role, and that we have managed to fool even you is proof that my instincts about the woman were correct.”
Percival smirked with mirth. “So you say.”
Edward knew what his friend was doing.
Percival was a most wicked sort, and he took untold amounts of pleasure in driving in the knife and then twisting it slowly. Whether he truly thought that Edward was falling for Celestine or not was irrelevant. What he wanted to do was plant the seed of doubt so that Edward would question himself.
And why? For fun, was the reason. The sick man that Percival was.
“I will remind you that this entire plan is highly unnecessary and grossly elaborate,” Percival continued. “If you wished to clean up your image, there are any number of ways you could do so without faking a marriage.” He scoffed. “But that you have chosen such a path is telling.”
Edward looked warningly at his friend.
Even as he did so, he felt a pang of guilt. He should not have done. He had nothing to feel guilty over. But the idea of dismissing Celestine with such coldness sat wrong with him for some reason. Almost as if she deserved more…
