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Chapter 3
Clydesdale was sitting at his desk, drinking whisky, and going over his ledgers later that night when the door to his study opened without a knock. Only one person had the gall to enter his work domain this way, and it wasn’t one of his family members. He didn’t look up when sure footsteps approached him. He continued working when a moment later he heard a heavy plop in the chair opposite his.
“Do you ever not work?” Gabriel St. Clare asked from across his desk.
“You know damn well the answer to that.” Robert leveled his friend with a frank gaze. “Would you like some whisky?”
“I can get it myself. No need to strain yourself.” Gabriel stood and shuffled toward the side cabinet. “How is your bride to be?” He picked up a bottle and studied it. He opened the decanter, sniffed the contents, and put it back down with a grimace.
“I guess you should know the answer to that question as well as anybody. She spent half the night flirting with you.” Robert sounded irritated even to his own ears.
Gabriel just laughed. “They all flirt with me, you know that.”
“Annie didn’t.” Robert grimaced even as he said that.
“No, she didn’t, did she?” Gabriel paused, bringing another bottle closer to his nose, and looked at Robert over his shoulder. “She did flirt with your cousin, though.”
“She did more than flirt if you remember.” Robert leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I think you were right the night of my bachelor party.”
“Did I say something clever?” Gabriel picked up his drink, poured a glass, and walked over to the table. “You know I was very much in my cups that night,” he said, sitting down.
“You said that there is no such thing as an innocent woman.” Robert closed his eyes. The memories of his bachelor party playing out in his mind. He, blissfully happy, on the verge of the most important day of his life. Gabriel, skeptical, throwing the bawdiest bachelor party of his life. And later Annie—his Annie—on her knees, servicing another man. Not just any man either, one of his closest cousins. Robert grimaced at the painful memories.
“I’m sure there are one or two,” Gabriel intoned dismissively. “I noticed nothing special about your betrothed,” he said after a moment of silence. “She is beautiful, her figure is feminine, she is quite alluring—just like every other lady currently residing under your roof.”
“I suppose.” Robert stared down at his own glass of whisky. What Gabriel said was true; she was no more beautiful than most ladies at the party, not too different from any of them. She shouldn’t be more alluring, either. And yet she was, at least for him. He couldn’t understand why she had this strange pull over him. He didn’t want to identify his longing for her. That way lay trouble. “But the contract is signed, and I don’t feel like looking elsewhere. I’d rather not waste my time seeking a bride. She’ll do.”
“She’ll do?” Gabriel chuckled. “I remember you saying that you’d only marry for love, that ton marriages are soulless and boring.” He waved his hand in dismissal.
Robert looked up at his friend and regarded him ironically. “And do you also remember what happened next?” He raised his eyebrow. “It is better to know firsthand what you are getting into. At least this way, there is no room for disappointment.”
Gabriel took a long sip of his whisky. “And does she feel the same way?”
Robert grimaced at the memory of the overheard conversation between his betrothed and her father. He drew a deep, tortured breath. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” He stretched in his seat, joined his hands behind his head, and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Norfolk apparently neglected to mention the fact that we were betrothed before this evening. She was surprised, unpleasantly so, I might add, when she was informed.”
“Oh?” Gabriel raised his brow.
“I gave her until tomorrow evening to decide if she wants to marry me. If she agrees, however, I made her some conditions.”
“And you think she’ll abide by them?” Gabriel sniffed skeptically.
“I don’t know.” Robert leaned his arms back on the table and regarded his friend with a level gaze. “Why do I always get the women least interested in me? Just once, I’d like to have a fiancée who’s not eager to get into another man’s bed.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Robert. I’d hardly call two a rule. Besides, you know that she won’t be found inmybed. And if your lady is, in fact, a promiscuous one, she will at least know how to satisfy you in bed.” He shrugged comically. “Most proper ladies have no idea how to do that.”
Robert laughed dryly. A consolation prize indeed.
“What if she doesn’t agree to marry you?” his friend asked.
Robert sighed. “Like you said, I have a houseful of proper young ladies to choose from. Perhaps, I’ll be lucky enough to charm one into marrying me before this dreadful party ends.” He looked ahead thoughtfully.
“Why even give her the option? You have a wider choice, don’t you? Why not let her pick some other lady from the guests?”
“To be honest, I’d rather have her open disgust than the pretense of admiration and affection.” Robert shrugged. “I tried that once before. At least, I can expect her to be honest about something.” He took another sip from his glass. “I can’t believe I was ever naïve enough to believe in marital bliss.” Robert put his glass down with a decisive clink.
“Some people have it.” Gabriel shrugged. “I guess we don’t fall into that small portion of lucky people.” He smirked. “Which, of course, means that we can continue spending our time pleasuring as many women as we want.” He raised a glass in salute. “To our luck!”
* * *
