Page 42 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“And I said to him that proper is a matter of perspective.” A warm and teasing manly voice was heard from the drawing room out the hallway.

Brandon’s jaw tightened. He knew that voice. Though it had changed a lot over the past ten years, he had been hearing that voice, he would recognize it anywhere. But even if he didn’t recognize the words, the way the maid went out of the drawing room, giggling with her cheeks blushing, would have betrayed the identity of the mystery man. Brandon knew exactly who it was. Owen.

He strode towards the drawing room, his footsteps heavy on the marble floor. The giggles had stopped, but there was a bout of laughter that reached his ears. He almost stopped in his tracks because mingling with that familiar male voice was Marigold’s chiming voice.

He calculated how Duncan would react if Brandon killed the Ring of their organization as he entered the room. Owen was relaxed, lounging on the arm of a couch in a very ungentlemanly position, one ankle crossed over his knee. He had the decency to have his cravat in place and his coat still buttoned, but the posture was utterly irreverent.

“I am sure you’re jesting with me, Your Grace,” Marigold toldOwen, still laughing. “One cannot possibly possess such arrogant mischief at such a young age.”

Brandon felt the blood boiling inside him. Sure, Marigold sometimes laughed around him, but it was a more polite, restrained laughter. But this? This was her real laughter, head thrown back, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. She had abandoned the botany book that was open in her lap, and she was looking at Owen as if he were the most entertaining person she had ever met.

“You know, Your Grace,” Owen leaned forward, “there are a few things I regret in my life, and one of them is not going through with the goat plan.”

“Well, from my part, I am glad you didn’t for the sake of the Crown and country.” Marigold dissolved into gurgling mirth.

Brandon just stood there at the doorway, still unnoticed, watching his bride having the time of her life with his oldest friend, who was so charming and easy. Everything that he wasn’t.

Something hot unfurled in his chest and tightened it as his hands curled into fists. He couldn’t recognize the feeling. It was the first time he had such a reaction to his friend being his usual charming self.

“Owen.” Brandon’s voice fell like thunder in the merry room.

The Duke of Reads turned to him with a wide grin, boyish and totally unrepentant. Marigold was more surprised to see him, but her smile didn’t fade.

“Brandon, how nice of you to join us!” Owen exclaimed.

“What are you doing?”

“I am merely correcting a wrong.” Owen smiled, perhaps not realizing how close to death he was right at that moment.

“And may I inquire what wrong would you be correcting?”

“My best friend got married. I was the only one invited from your part of the family, and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce your wife to me properly.”

Brandon tightened his jaw and looked at Owen with a warning look. Most of the men of the ton who met Brandon were scared of him, and none of them had seen exactly what he would do when angry. Owen had firsthand knowledge of how cruel and brutal Brandon could be, and yet he was defying him in his own household in front of his wife.

“Perhaps you didn’t realize that was the exact purpose of my not introducing you to her.”

“Nonsense,” Owen said, clearly testing the limits of Brandon’s patience. “I am a pure delight.”

“I can attest to that,” Marigold added. “Although I would have preferred it if you didn’t flirt with our staff.”

“I assure you, Your Grace,” Owen turned to her with that side smile of his, “that was just teasing. You would have known if I flirted.”

“Owen!” Brandon growled.

“Yes?”

“My study. Now.”

“I just got here. Didn’t even have my tea,” Owen challenged him. “Plus, I find it very rude to leave your lovely wife here alone.”

Marigold smiled at that comment. Brandon wanted to break Owen’s teeth, and then he could test if he would be so eloquent without them.

“And if I may be so frank, I quite prefer Her Grace’s company rather than yours.”

Marigold laughed again. Brandon regarded her with an incredulous look. She was supposed to be scandalized, flustered, or at least uncomfortable and perhaps aware that her husband was angry.

“You honor me, Your Grace,” Marigold said with glee.