“Oh, bloody hell, just let me in.” Castleigh pushed past Ridgeley, who looked down his nose at the intruding earl.
“I present the Earl of Castleigh.”
“It’s the man with the pistol!” someone screeched, and a few of the servants ducked behind the statues and plants in the vestibule.
“And he’s got the bear,” someone behind a Roman bust called out.
“He doesn’t have a pistol!” Maddie assured them, but Jack saw her glance at her father suspiciously. “And the bear is outside.”
Jack was tempted to peer out the window just to be certain. At this point he wasn’t ruling anything out.
Maddie gave her father an imploring look. “Papa, tell them the bear isn’t going to hurt them,” she said, approaching him. “They won’t listen to us.”
The servants quieted and all eyes turned to Lord Castleigh. Or at least Jack assumed they did. He couldn’t see his servants from their hiding places behind the statues.
Castleigh smiled. “Oh, I’m sure the bear won’t eat you.”
Maddie sighed. “See?”
“No more than the wolf she brought home one winter in the country,” Castleigh continued. “It only took off half our footman’s arm.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“Papa!” Maddie glared at her father. “You know it was only a finger or two.” She spun back to look at her new staff. “Really, we told him to stop tormenting the poor wolf. It was the man’s own fault that he was bitten.”
Gasps and squeals erupted around Jack, and the servants rushed away, leaving the statues teetering. Ridgeley, Maddie, and Castleigh stood in the vestibule.
Jack put a hand to his head and tried to soothe the pounding behind his eyes.
“Welcome to the family, Blackthorne,” Castleigh boomed.
“Tea, my lord?” Ridgeley asked.
Jack shook his head. “Bring me a brandy. The bottle.”
Chapter Seventeen
“If you’re about to shoot me,” Jack said, taking a seat behind the large oak desk in his library, “would you wait until I finish the brandy?” Ridgeley had brought two glasses and a pot of tea, and Jack poured brandy for himself and his new father-in-law, while Maddie glared at the men and poured herself tea.
“He won’t shoot you, Jack,” she said, setting the teapot down. “Will you, Papa?”
Castleigh sipped his brandy and smiled again. Jack didn’t like that smile. It looked more like a smirk. “Oh, no. I don’t have to shoot your new husband, Madeleine.” He set the glass on the desk. “You’ll kill him all by yourself.”
“Papa. Stop it.”
Castleigh spread his arms. “Not that he needs you to do him in, dear. I hear he has problems of his own. The Black Duke?” Castleigh shook his head. “Not an enemy I’d have courted.”
Not an enemy Jack particularly wanted either. But he would deal with Bleven when the time came.
Jack propped his feet on his desk and motioned Maddie closer to him. She came, and he put an arm around her waist. Castleigh’s eyes narrowed. The man might act smug, but Jack knew he wouldn’t be here if he weren’t concerned for his daughter. Castleigh might even hate him—and Jack really couldn’t blame him for that—but he wanted the best for Maddie.
Jack pulled her flush against him. “Why are you here, Castleigh? It’s obviously not to wish us felicitations on our happy union.”
“Is it a happy union, then?” the earl asked, turning his glass. “I call it a hasty union. I was told she’d run off with that bumbling dog breeder. Had I known, sir, that you were next in line, I would have shot you as well.”
“Papa!” Maddie glared at him from across Jack’s desk. “You cannot mean that. In fact, I think you owe me an apology for shooting my fiancé. Poor Mr. Dover.”
“He’s poor Mr. Dover no more. When you took off for Gretna, I left one of my men behind in Carlisle. Your poor Mr. Dover accepted a tidy sum to stay out of your life, Madeleine.”
