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Matthew gave a low growl. “Rotter.”
“Have you heard from Lewis?”
“He wants to meet me later this evening.”
“Perhaps he has uncovered a few more clues to your beloved’s odd personality.”
“She is not my—” Matthew stopped, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the couple approaching Sarah and his mother. Both women had gone quite still. He picked up his pace.
Mark did as well. “Is that—”
“Yes.”
The Earl and Countess of Crewood. The earl sported a peacock of a kit, shining in a bright red topcoat, yellow embroidered waistcoat, and dark blue trousers. His fringed hair was topped with a matching red chapeau-bra trimmed in yellow, which made Matthew’s and Mark’s brushed black top hats look quite plain. The lady wore a shimmering gown of pink and cream, with matching silk gloves. As they grew closer to the women, Sarah took a step backward, almost as if taking refuge behind the duchess, and looked around, obviously searching for Matthew. He reached her side, just as the first words emerged from the countess.
“Why, Lady Crewood, what an unexpected surprise to see you. I do admire your bravery in strolling so casually through the park, given your current circumstances... and appearance.”
Sarah stiffened but said nothing. Instead Mark filled the gap. “Lord Crewood, what a splendid job your tailor did for you, but I must ask. Has he recently acquired a parrot?”
Sarah choked on a laugh, hiding the resulting cough behind her hand.
Phyllida beamed at Mark, then back at the couple. “I do agree, your lordship. Splendid plumage. And Lady Crewood—shall I call you Lady Crewood the Elder? I do believe you are the dowager’s senior by quite a few years. I am not sure how you will ever keep it all straight. Of course, once she marries my son, it will not be such an issue.”
Both of them appeared to have recently sucked on a sour lemon, and Matthew called on his soldier’s discipline to remain solemn. Lord Crewood found his voice first. “Since I had not had a response to my letter to His Grace”—his gaze switched to Matthew—“I was not sure this mad plan was to continue.”
Matthew ignored the annoyed look from his mother and faced Lord Crewood. “It is. You will have my response today. But I cannot meet tomorrow. I propose we gather on Thursday morning. My solicitor is reviewing my initial draft and terms of the contract. I realize we will have some significant issues to discuss. I wish to insure the language is clear and precise as possible.”
Apparently, the “elder” Lady Crewood was as ill-informed as Sarah and Phyllida. Inside her pink gown, she bristled. “Oh, this is madness. I happen to know this is merely one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s insane quests, a test for the duke, for what I cannot grasp. Yet you two sound as if you truly plan to marry this—this—murderess!”
Phyllida flared, and Matthew stepped between the two women before his mother could speak. “Indeed, I do intend to marry her, Lady Crewood. The first bann has been read, and you would be quite mistaken if you think I would perpetrate a fraud in the church. I am well aware that you and His Lordship would prefer this not happen—and I am well aware why.” He shifted his focus to Lord Crewood. “I am also well aware of your involvement with Hiram Lewis and what his goals are. If we all remain civil, perhaps we can work out terms equitable for everyone. But you should know now that I will be equal to any challenge you wish to extend.”
“If not superior.” Mark’s words were whispered but easily loud enough for all to hear.
Lord Crewood’s voice turned to a low snarl. “You are making a mistake. You have no idea who you are marrying.”
“Actually,” Sarah’s soft voice got all their attention, “His Grace already knows more about me than anyone ever has—except my father and perhaps even him. Certainly more than my husband ever did.”
Lady Crewood’s face reddened. “How dare you say that? How could he possibly—”
“Because he asked. In ten years, Lord Crewood never asked me a question.”
“Oh, do not be ridiculous.” Lady Crewood smoothed one of her gloves. “It was a marriage, not a friendship.”
“Oh, dear God,” Phyllida muttered.
“I think,” Matthew kept his voice even, “any further discussion along these lines should be held in private.”
“Especially since I left our dueling pistols at home.” Mark stepped closer to Matthew, which put both men in front of Phyllida and Sarah.
Lady Crewood sniffed, but looked at her husband, who glowered at Matthew. “I would agree. I will await your confirmation for Thursday morning.”
Matthew gave a sharp nod, then watched as the two continued past them on the path.
“Oh!” Phyllida called after the retreating couple. “Will we see you at Almack’s tomorrow night?”
Lady Crewood snapped around. “I beg your pardon?”
Phyllida drew her closed fan through her hand. “Oh, so no? That’s too bad.” She pivoted and continued walking forward, tugging Sarah along with her.
