Page 23 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“Thank you so much for pointing what an impoverished beggar I am.”

Andrew smiled. “Now you know what it feels like to be compared and found wanting. And no, you have never made me feel like an impoverished beggar. I did that to myself.” He stopped and frowned at the green and gilt door in front of him. And then he strode back down the corridor to the door he had just passed, which was scarlet and gilt. “This is where we must part ways, Sylvester.”

The duke gave him a look of sympathy. “Er, do you know what you are going to say?”

“I am going to beg her forgiveness and grovel.”

“That seems an excellent plan. Come find me in the billiards room when you are done.”

“I will if Shaftsbury leaves me walking and talking,” he said, only partly jesting. He waited until his cousin had disappeared down the stairs before knocking.

The door opened a moment later and Andrew found himself face-to-face with the Marquess of Shaftsbury himself rather than a servant.

The older man smiled. “Good evening, Shelton.”

“Er, Shaftsbury,” he said, sounding like an idiot. Andrew didn’t know why he was so stunned that a blind man would answer his own door. “I suppose your wife told you I was coming?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know it was me?”

“I recognized your smell.”

Andrew’s jaw sagged.

A squawky laugh that Andrew remembered well came from somewhere behind the marquess. “Caius, are you tormenting my guest?”

“No, that is your job, my dear. I am just teasing him a little.” Shaftsbury’s lips tilted up on one side. “It has been a long, long time, Shelton. I think you must have been ten or eleven the last time I saw you.”

“Yes. I remember that summer well.”

Shaftsbury’s smile turned into a grin. “You used to follow Chatham and me around like a lovelorn chit.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

The marquess threw back his head and laughed.

Andrew had expected the other man to call him out for what he’d done to his wife. He supposed mockery was better than being punched in the face. Although it was a near thing.

As if reading his thoughts, the humor drained from the marquess’s face and he stopped chuckling, leaned closer, and hissed, “I can’t bring myself to hate you since your caddish actions brought Selina into my life.” He lowered his voice even more. “You behaved like a scoundrel, Shelton. If this wasn’t a family get together and I wasn’t in another man’s house—and if I had not promised my wife that I would behave—then I would be sorely tempted to kick your arse for you.”

Andrew swallowed at the menace in the other man’s voice, pinioned by the intensity in his sightless silver-gray eyes.

“I deeply regret my behavior, Shaftsbury.” He hesitated, and then added, “I am only grateful that something good came out of it.”

“No thanks to you,” the other man retorted.

“No thanks to me,” Andrew agreed.

The marquess hesitated for a long moment before taking a step back. “You might as well come in,” he said, his gaze fixed somewhere over Andrew’s shoulder. “I hope you have a taste for crow, Shelton.”

“I have come prepared to dine, Shaftsbury.”

The marquess snorted and Andrew entered a suite that was far grander than his own. The fireplace was almost as tall as he was, the high, coffered ceiling glinting with gold.

As spectacular as the trappings were, they were still eclipsed by the woman who occupied the room. Like a priceless jewel on a magnificent crown, Lady Shaftsbury sat in the middle of a gold brocade settee. Her delft blue eyes were cold and distant.

Heat surged up Andrew’s neck at her scathing look.