Page 39 of The Duke’s Hidden Runaway Bride

He had sent Markham a note asking him to meet at their club, and went straight there from the meeting with Soane.

Markham arrived clearly expecting an ally. The card room was hushed at that hour, all worn leather and the smell of coffee and old cigar smoke.

“There you are,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite Adrian. “Your mother has been in despair over your disappearance. Wales, of all places. I should have thought you knew better.”

“I have learned several things in Wales.”

“So I hear.”

Markham’s smile sharpened.

“The James girl has been taken up by your aunt. A clever bit of theatre, bringing her back under ducal protection. It will not alter the articles.”

“I asked you here to give you the opportunity to withdraw your claims.”

Markham laughed, incredulous. “Why should I? There’s a fortune at stake, whether I marry the chit or not!”

“The marriage will not happen. Ever.” Adrian felt a hot flash of rage that Markham still thought it might.

“That remains to be seen.”

“No. It does not.”

Markham’s amusement faded.

“Miss James has refused you. Her father will not compel her.”

“Josiah will do whatever preserves his business.” Markham sneered.

“You misjudge him.” Adrian kept his hands loose on the arms of his chair. “You will abandon the suit and sign releases concerning Miss James and her father.”

“Or?”

“The terms will be put to you formally. I advise you to consider them.”

Markham leaned back, eyes narrowing, clearly turning over his mind what terms Adrian might be offering. “Do not be a fool, Calder. Whatever tale she told you, she is a merchant’s half-caste daughter with more money than judgment. You cannot mean to set yourself against a man you have known half your life for her.”

The last remains of an old friendship settled into ash inside Adrian. “I believed her before I came here,” he said. “I came to give you the opportunity to withdraw before this became public.”

Markham’s face changed. “You want her.”

“That is none of your concern,” Adrian said stiffly.

“It is very much my concern if a duke is bedding my betrothed.”

Adrian stood, and only the promise he had made to Ophelia not to fight Markham restrained him from putting his fist in Markham’s face. “Speak of her so again and you will learn the limits of my restraint.”

Markham rose too. “You are threatening me?”

“I am warning you. There is a difference. Mr. Soane will send the terms tomorrow. Read them carefully.”

“You always were weak, Adrian. Your grandfather knew it. Charming, pleasant, and soft at the centre.”

The words found the old wound, but they did not sting.

“Perhaps,” Adrian said. “Yet here I am, the one dictating terms to the man who borrowed against money you never owned.”

Markham went still.