Page 76 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“Of course I do,” Mama said, patting her back affectionately. “I’m perfectly adorable. Now get in there and stand by your husband.”

“Yes, Mama,” Emmeline said dutifully, and tugged open the door.

A rush of warm air, heavily perfumed with wood smoke, cigars, and the sweet, earthy scent of beer surrounded them as they entered and gravitated towards the sound of voices. Emmeline cracked open the door to the taproom and peered inside.

The duke blocked much of her view, but she could see two large ruffians and a slight, overdressed young man in an eye-watering checked suit with matching cravat. That could only be Lord Cecil.

“Doctor? From where did you acquire your medical degree, sir?” enquired a polite voice that she recognised as belonging to Dr Boniface. Determined to discover what was going on, she opened the door and slipped inside. Mama followed her and they remained in the corner, unobserved for now, as all eyes were on the confrontation between the duke and Wrexham.

Emmeline’s gaze settled on Rex greedily, and she drank in the sight of him with relief. He looked entirely calm, and even rather amused, and she let out the breath she’d been holding to discover he was still in good spirits. If the duke upset him, she would do the man an injury.

“That is none of your business, sir,” replied a strangely accented voice.

“But it is entirely my business,” Dr Boniface replied coolly. “If you are thinking of poaching my patient.”

“Your patient!” the duke’s man replied angrily, his accent shifting oddly from vaguely German to vaguely French via the East End. “This man is not your patient, but mine, and he needs to return home to his grace’s care, where he can be properly treated.”

“Treated for what, exactly?” Dr Boniface asked with apparent interest.

“Ah… for insanity,” the man said, tugging at his waistcoat, his expression grave.

“But he is not insane.”

“Yes, he is,” said the duke, Lord Cecil, and their doctor simultaneously.

Dr Boniface frowned. “I have conducted a thorough examination of Lord Wrexham and, far from being insane, he is one of the most sensible men it has been my good fortune to come across.”

“Well, you would say that!” shouted Lord Cecil, pushing his way past his father. “Wrexham makes everyone do everything he wants them to do. He always has. It’s not fair! Everyone always takes his side!”

Dr Boniface blinked and regarded Lord Cecil with interest. “Really?” he said, his voice soothing. “And why do you think that is?”

“Because he’s got an excess of animal spirits,” Cecil said eagerly. “That’s right, ain’t it, Pa? It’s why women are always panting after him. It’s not right.”

“No, not when they ought to pant after you, hmmm?” Dr Boniface said, all sympathy.

Emmeline stifled a giggle.

“Well, yes,” Lord Cecil said, and then snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, no. I mean… you made me say that.”

“Did I? And how did I do that?” Boniface asked him.

“Enough of this. Take Wrexham now,” commanded the duke.

Four large men moved at once, heading for Wrexham. There was a sudden scraping of chair legs as everyone in the room stood.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Grandfather,” rumbled a deep voice.

Heads swivelled towards the fireplace, and next to it the open door to the private parlour, where Wolf stood, the firelight glinting off his harsh features and making him look even bigger and more intimidating than he did in daylight.

“What are you doing here, Latimer?” the duke demanded irritably. “This is none of your affair. I advise you to stay out of it.”

“And I advise you to keep your ruffians away from my uncle,” Wolf growled.

There was a glint in his eyes that left Emmeline in no doubt of where his name had sprung from.

“You would do well not to make an enemy of me, sir,” the duke said, his voice cold and hard.

Wolf only chuckled. “Funny, that. I was about to say the same thing, only I’m uncertain what you think I have to fear from a bankrupt old man.”