Cole leaned more closely over the table. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I could have sworn you just said your wife.”
“I did.”
Cole let out a whoop of laughter and several tables turned to see what had occasioned his outburst. “Forgive me,” he gasped, “but that’s rich. Anne will be irate. She’s got tradesmen all over town extending her credit in anticipation of spending your money. So, when do Phoebe and I get to meet the lady who’s swept you off your feet?”
“You don’t,” Rafe said acidly. “She’s gone.”
Cole stifled another laugh. “You’re here destroying the fortunes of the British peerage because you’ve lost your bride?”
Rafe glared at him and Cole fell silent. “Forgive me,” he said after a moment. “I can see that my humor is misplaced. Would you care to tell me about it?”
Rafe drummed his fingers on the table, pain and anger warring in his expression. “Very well,” he said finally and proceeded to explain how he had met and married Alix.
When he had finished, Cole shook his head wonderingly. “She left you without a word? Do you have any idea where she’s gone?”
Rafe answered tersely, “Lady Melbourne’s.”
Cole whistled softly. “You have got a devil of a problem.”
Rafe nodded. “I hadn’t planned on a major scandal for my sister’s first season.” He briefly considered telling Cole about the conversation he’d overheard between Anne and James Dinsmore, then dismissed it. He had enough problems already; he’d deal with the Dinsmores later.
“Do you know if the marriage is binding?”
Rafe shrugged. “I would expect so.”
“Do you want her back?”
“If only to wring her pretty neck.”
Cole smiled slightly. “And then you’ll grant her an annulment?”
“Not if she’s carrying my child.”
Cole eyed his friend speculatively. He’d lay odds there was more to this story than what Rafe had told him. He felt a keen curiosity to meet the woman who’d so disturbed the customary composure of the Earl of Moreham.
“Suppose we drop by Lady Melbourne’s tomorrow and see if the lady is at home to visitors?” he suggested.
“And risk having her turn me away, or worse claim she’s never heard of me? I think not.”
Cole’s eyes took on a speculative light that Rafe, had he looked across the table, would have recognized and instantly mistrusted. “So,” he said, dropping his voice and leaning conspiratorially close, “what’ll it be? Shall we wait for her to venture out, then sweep her into your carriage? Climb through her window and haul her out, tossed over your shoulder?”
“That’s your style Davenport, not mine.”
“A discreet letter then to Lady Melbourne’s solicitor informing her she’s holding a bit of your prized property?”
Rafe grimaced. “I can see the married state has not quenched your thirst for the dramatics.”
Cole drew himself up with feigned offense. “Very well, Moreham, you always have a plan. Let’s have it.”
“I don’t know,” Rafe snapped, “if I did, would I be playing cards with the likes of Fallsworth or listening to your rattle-brained schemes?”
Cole laughed. “It appears as though this season may not be quite so dull after all. Perhaps I should convince Phoebe to come to town for a bit. A second honeymoon, I’m thinking.”
“It seems to me you’ve had several honeymoons already and a son to mark each one,” Rafe said dryly.
“Ah, you’re just jealous. But you’ll have a brood of your own soon enough.” Cole continued. “Unless, of course, this dark humor is how you propose to win the lady over. I’ve never known snarls and scowls to be an effectivemethod of courtship, but then perhaps French ladies are different?”
Rafe shook his head. “After everything that has passed between us, I never expected she would leave. Without a word, without a note...”
