Page 53 of The Duke’s Wager

Even when she made him feel like they were the only two people in the world.

“Oh, does God have no mercy upon us?” Alfred’s voice sounded far-off, and Edward looked at him, confused. His friend gestured to the entrance of the club and Edward turned quickly, a part of him expecting to see Henry Beaumont enter through the doors.

What entered was far worse.

“Here we go…” Alfred’s voice was sardonic, and Edward grimaced when he caught the man’s eye. “Pembroke.”

“Edward, my lad!”

Julian approached them quickly, a trail of women already forming behind him. Edward grimaced at the girls. Had they no self-respect? Had they no pride?

“Good to see you, my friend!”

Julian’s voice was obviously false, and Edward sneered at him. “I am not your friend, Pembroke, and I never have been.”

Julian was not affected. Instead, he laughed as though Edward had just told him the world’s funniest joke. “Oh, look at you, Edward! So tense. Tell me, is the bet not going well? Is that what is bothering you?”

No. What was bothering him was Pembroke’s existence. He had absolutely no time for the man. Julian either did not realize he was irritated by his presence or – and this was the far more likely option – he did not care.

“Do you mind if I join your company?” Julian asked.

Edward glared at him irritably. “I’d rather be a prisoner of the French legion than have you at my table, Pembroke.”

The women behind Julian gasped and giggled, only serving to wind Edward up further.

“Come now, Edward.” Julian still seemed rather happy. Too happy, in fact. “That’s no way to talk to your friends!”

Edward scowled. “We are not friends, Pembroke,” he repeated.

Despite his insistence on making the man understand that he was not welcome, Julian kept laughing happily. “A little competition between the two of us doesn’t mean that we are not friends.”

He was done with the games. Edward turned to order another pint of beer and shook his head. “Piss off, Pembroke.”

Still Julian did not seem to receive the message. Instead, he leaned closer. “So tell me, my friend… How’s the hunting going? Has the mighty Queen bent to your will yet?”

Edward hesitated. Although he was loath to discuss Lucy with anyone – least of all Julian Pembroke – he knew that any refusal to comment on the bet would be seen as a surefire sign that he was losing it.

His pride would not allow that.

“It will happen soon enough.”

This was the most he could say without feeling like he was betraying Lucy, and even as he said it, a part of him hated himself for talking about her as though she were nothing more than an object.

She’d had enough of that in her life.

Julian sat down next to Edward, and the latter groaned.

“I was thinking…” Julian leered with a smirk. “Once you’re done with her – if you do manage to beat me, that is – perhaps I will have a go at her as well regardless. You know… show her how it is really meant to be done.”

The crowd that had followed Julian into the club all howled with laughter. Edward, on the other hand, saw red. How dare he! How dare Pembroke talk about Lucy like that!

“Julian…” Edward’s voice was low, but something in it must have scared the man for he moved slightly backwards. “I suppose it is for the best that you feast on my leftovers. After all, how could a woman be able to fake satisfaction with you if I do not have my way with her first and show her what a real man is? Word on the street is that your ego is far larger than your equipment.”

Julian turned crimson, and Edward smirked.

“You’re a brave man, Edward. Especially for one who is about to lose a bet. My sources tell me that the only time the two of you ever talk is in a cemetery. I don’t know about you, but at least I never take my ladies to a graveyard in an attempt to seduce them.”

Once again, mocking laughter followed Julian’s words, and Edward balled his fists.