He was going to need a third glass. And a fourth.
Whom was he deluding? He woulddefinitelyneed the whole bottle.
Zachary still looked as if he could not quite digest the news. “Well, do forgive me, but this is… unbelievable. I would have expected you to shoot the man for even daring to insinuate you had dishonored his daughter, not marry her.” He peered at Philip. “I suppose her exceptional prettiness had nothing to do with your surprisingly generous decision?”
“She is not unfortunate-looking,” Philip managed.
There was no point in repudiating that fact. He possessed a good eye for the feminine form, and heaven help him, the little troublemaker was certainly charming.
He just did not appreciate the thought of his friend appraising Selina in that manner.
Unfortunately, Zachary did not seem to be aware of this.
“I also heard that she is possessed of a lovely temperament,” his friend continued. “A refreshing wit in a ballroom of vapid butterflies.” Philip did not miss his sly, knowing smirk. “Imagine all that loveliness, wasted on a jaded wretch like yourself.”
Oh, screw the whiskey. The prospect of throwing the entire bottle at his friend’s smug face was becoming more appealing by the moment.
“Yes, yes. You have already made it quite clear how it is the lady’s great misfortune to marry a man such as myself,” he grumbled. “Now, be a good friend and tell me who her former betrothed was so that I may send an invitation to the poor man and help in lessening the offense.”
Zachary held out his glass for another round. “You truly are decided on this?”
Was he really?
An image of the young lady rose in his mind, a delicate blush on her cheeks. Her lovely lips parted, almost begging for him to steal a kiss. Even his skin could perfectly recall how she had felt against him—soft and warm and everything he had told himself he neither wanted nor needed.
“Yes, I am,” Philip told his friend. “After all, marrying the enemy is something even I cannot refuse.”
He smiled and downed the rest of his drink.
