Page 23 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

What Caspian needed was a drink, some time to think, and some time to plan how he might approach this marriage so that it did not undo him completely. Also, while he was loath to admit it, so as not to ruin the woman whom he now called his wife.

Sadly, and as should have been expected, the club was rather busy, and among those masses of drunken patrons was Caspian’s best friend. The man saw Caspian as soon as he entered and was quick to push through the throng just as Caspian sat down in a corner.

“Well, this is a rather unexpected surprise!” George William Percy, the Marquess of Cavendish, was already well into his cups; his rosy cheeks and the slight slur to his voice were proof of that.

“For you or for me?” Caspian said as he slid into the chair.

George was often described as the life of the party. He was tall in stature. His hair was golden, his face was boyish, and his eyes sparkled as if he were seeing the world for the first time. Handsome too, of course, but that was not what defined him.

Why were the two men such good friends? It was a question that Caspian often wondered about. Their personalities could not have been more different, but perhaps that was the point. George was the one man whom Caspian could talk to about anything, and George was the one man who would never judge him for it.

“You know, I am angry with you.” George put his hands on his hips. “Perhaps even furious.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am here,” he said. “And only because I was not invited to your wedding today, nor was I invited to the breakfast! And here I thought that you and I were friends, Caspian. Why, I have half a mind to turn around and walk away.”

Caspian rolled his eyes. “Do not let me stop you.”

“Ha!” George laughed. “If it were anyone else, I might have suspected as much. But you forget how well I know you—so well, in fact, that I am aware of exactly why my invitation never arrived.” He swayed slightly. “It was a wedding, yes, but one that was meant to be ignored… forgotten… treated as if it did not matter. Not inviting me was essentially a way of announcing that such vows were insignificant, not worth the fuss and scrutiny of our peers. Tell me I am wrong!”

Despite his mood, Caspian could not help but smile.

George was correct, of course, because Caspian was set on treating his marriage as nothing more than a business deal. Inviting friends to make it seem like more than it was would only spark hope, and such things were exactly what Caspian needed to avoid.

And while he told himself it was for his own benefit, to make things easier, deep down he knew too that he did it for Arabella.

“Perceptive as always,” Caspian said.

“I knew it.” George scoffed as he slid into the chair across from Caspian. “Truly, when I heard that you were getting married, I thought that a joke was being played on me! Not Caspian, I said. Not a man who has told me a million times that he will never wed. He hates the concept as the sun hates the night’s sky.”

“And I still do,” Caspian said. “Nothing has changed in that regard.”

“Says the man who was just married today. Speaking of which…” George looked around the bustling club. “What on earth are you doing here? Ought you not be at home with your wife?”

“That I am here is proof of my feelings,” Caspian said. “This is not a traditional marriage, George, nor do I intend to treat it as such. It is a marriage of convenience.”

“Convenient for whom?” George grinned across the table.

Caspian glared in warning. “It is for Timothy for whom I do this. The boy needs a mother, and it behooves me to do right by the child. Whether I want to or not.”

“A mother…” His friend blinked. “Be that as it may, who is she whom you now call your wife? I heard a name, but it was not one that you would have been acquainted with. Where did she come from? How did this happen?”

“Does it matter?” Caspian sighed. “It is done now, so let us leave the past where it is.”

“The past?” George snorted. “Coming from you? A man who lives his life as if the past controls his future? Very rich.”

“Careful now,” Caspian growled. “You know how my mood sours when my father is mentioned.”

“Just a comment.” George held his hands out in surrender. “I just wish to know what is going on.”

There was no point in trying to change the subject because when George had the bit between his teeth, he was like a bull charging down a red flag.

Besides, Caspian realized at that moment that he wanted to tell his friend what had happened. Still, he wrestled with his conscience, unsure if he had made the right decision, and unaware of what to do next. If his path was the right one, or if he was being hopelessly optimistic, as well as classically cynical.

With a deep sigh of regret, Caspian told his friend everything.

How he found Miss Witherington alone in a chapel. How her father had used the situation to try to force him to marry her. How Caspian had almost refused, only to realize that fate had intercepted and presented him with a chance that he ought to take while he could.