Page 50 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Thankfully, the conversation ended as they focused on their sparring. Gentleman Jackson himself was present today. The tall, broad-shouldered champion rotated among the rings in his boxing salon and shouted encouragement and advice to his gentlemen pugilists.

After several rounds, Warwick and Drake stepped from the ring. A boy rushed forward to untie their gloves and offer them water. They wiped their brows with cotton towels and slipped their shirts over their heads.

“Ana and I are holding a garden party. Invitations have been sent out to Lady Heywood and her new prodigy.”

Warwick knew he meant Adeline. “Am I to expect an invitation as well?”

“You have always avoided Society events in the past, but I told Ana that you are a changed man.”

Warwick tossed the towel aside. “You do realize my tendre for Lady Adeline is entirely for show.”

Once again, the time they’d spent together in the park came to mind. He’d wanted to kiss more than her wrist. Much, much more. She tempted him more than any other woman he’d known.

A glimmer of humor lit Drake’s dark gaze. “So you say.”

“And she feels nothing for me either. Only the burgeoning of a friendship.”

“I cannot begin to fathom the lady’s thoughts,” Drake said. “I’m not certain you can either.”

Warwick rolled his eyes. “As my best friend, you are sworn to secrecy.”

Drake nodded. “I haven’t told a soul.”

Warwick eyed him. “Even your wife?”

Drake dropped his towel on a bench. “Now there—”

“Everyone must believe my budding romance with Lady Adeline to be real for our plan to work.”

Drake swung his gloves over his shoulder and faced him. “Are you doing this just to spite Edwin?”

Warwick scoffed. “No. Although I admit to a certain satisfaction in thwarting that arrogant arse’s plans for his half sister.”

Drake eyed him with a critical squint. “Careful, Warwick. You may end up thwarting yourself.”

…

Knocking on one’s own front door felt strange, although Adeline supposed the Piccadilly townhome was no longer hers.

The door swung open, and her family’s longtime butler answered the door. “Lady Adeline! How nice to see you.” He held the door open. It was a good sign—she’d feared he’d shut the door in her face at the direction of the new Earl of Foster. Either Edwin hadn’t anticipated she’d visit, or he hadn’t thought to instruct the staff to turn her away if she should darken the doorstep. If her timing was right, Edwin would be out of the house and at one of his usual haunts.

“Is all well, Bertram?” Adeline asked.

“We all miss you, my lady. Especially Lady Mary.”

“I miss her as well, and I’m here to pay her a visit.”

“She’d love it, but—” He lowered his voice and glanced behind his shoulder. “If you’d come another—”

“Who is it, Bertram?” A booming voice sounded behind the butler’s shoulder.

Adeline froze. Damnation. Her timing had been poor after all. She stiffened her spine and clutched her reticule before her like a shield.

No. She gathered her resolve. This may no longer be her home, but she had every right to visit her sister. She swept past Bertram and into the vestibule. Everything was familiar, from the crystal chandelier and the gilded sconces to the classical paintings on the flocked papered walls. Edwin strode into the vestibule carrying a walking stick. He was dressed in a coat and hat and clearly on his way out. If she had arrived just five or so minutes later.

She met his dark gaze. “Hello, my lord.”

He gaped, then his dark eyes narrowed, and his mouth screwed into a sour expression. “So it’s true, and you have returned to Town. Did that dark-complected heathen accompany you?”