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Evie smiled at her. “Then you’re a far better candidate for his wife than I ever was. Will you promise me one thing, though?”
“Anything.” Sam put down her cup.
“Promise me to do everything in your power to be happy.”
Sam studied her friend’s open face. The request puzzled her, but Evie just looked at her earnestly. “I shall give it my best effort, if you do the same.”
Evie smiled. “Deal.”
* * *
The moment John entered Viscount Gage’s study, he was greeted with a punch to his face. He staggered, seeing tiny little stars in his obscured vision, but managed not to fall to the floor. Another shot came at him and this time John crashed onto the side table, taking down all of its contents with him. He lay on the floor in a heaping mess, his jaw swelling already.
“You bloody bastard! You have the nerve coming here!” the viscount roared.
The door busted open as Miss Lewis rushed in.
“Leave, this is not your business!” the viscount commanded.
“You said you wouldn’t do anything rash!” she said in an exasperated tone.
John propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. He was sprawled in an undignified heap on the floor, bottles and decanters surrounding him, expensive whisky soaking his clothes.
“I didn’t hunt him down and kill him, did I?” Gage huffed.
John slowly got up and tried to straighten his clothing, although it was a hopeless endeavor. Two more people filed through the still-open door. Sam and her other brother surveyed the room wide-eyed. John restrained himself from gaping at Sam and instead trained his eyes on the viscount.
“I would beg a private audience with the viscount,” he said in an even tone.
Gage looked John dead in the eyes and didn’t take his gaze off him as he spoke. “Adam, take our sisters out of this room.”
“Richard, please,” Sam cried but was quickly ushered away.
“You have thirty seconds to convince me not to throw you out on your arse, accompanied with the invitation to a meeting at dawn.” With that, he walked behind his desk, turned the hourglass, and sat, staring at John dispassionately.
“I came to ask for Sam’s hand in marriage.”
Gage gave him a menacing look.
“Miss Samantha,” John corrected himself hastily.
“What about the Duchess of Somerset?”
“She cried off.”
“Not surprising,” Gage scoffed.
“I know that it seems like the only reason I am proposing is because of what transpired last night. And while it is partially true, it is not the whole truth.” John paused to draw a breath. “Miss Samantha and I have gotten to know each other very well in the past few weeks. I came to admire her, respect her, and I feel that there’s an affection between us. There is from my side, at least.”
“And there is a large dowry from her side,” the viscount noted.
“I can’t deny that it is a factor as well. But not the main factor.”
Gage studied him narrowly. He then shifted his gaze to the hourglass, which had emptied by then. “As much as I’d love to throw you out on your arse, I am not a foolish man. You ruined Sam last night; she has no prospects now.”
John nodded. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”
Gage just sat there staring at John for a while, tapping his finger against his desk. Then he stood suddenly.
