David put his hand up before the growing tension between the two resulted in blows. Itwasa miracle they hadn’t killed each other on the journey from London. Haven and Blythe argued often, the hostility between them sometimes resulting in long stretches when the pair didn’t speak to each other. David had almost sent a coach for Haven’s use so he wouldn’t be subjected to Blythe’s baiting, but Haven, ever sensitive regarding his poverty, would have seen the gesture as the charity it was.
Blythe was unfortunately correct about Haven’s circumstances. The estate he’d inherited was rundown, stripped of the former glory it had once commanded. Returning from abroad, Haven had been greeted with a dead father who had passed along his title as well as a great deal of debt. Haven’s sister had been reduced to living like a beggar with a distant relation. Everything which wasn’t entailed had been sold, leaving Haven very little else. He still struggled to repay the remaining creditors, refusing loans or outright gifts of money. The damage done to his family’s reputation was extensive, thus resulting in Haven’s propensity to duel. He thought his honor infringed upon regularly.
Blythe, on the other hand, possessed a well-managed estate and an enormous fortune, inherited from a father who had not squandered the family wealth on the turn of a card. His perpetually sunny disposition was in stark contrast to Haven’s gloomy outlook. Blythe was charming, well-liked, and fawned over by every woman within his radius, including his mother and five sisters. In short, Blythe had everything Haven did not.
“Are you going to allow him to threaten me, Gran?” Blythe said teasingly. “I should challenge Haven to a duel. Settle things between us once and for all.”
David refilled Haven’s glass. He had yet to take a sip of the contents of his own, not wanting the scotch to induce him to relinquish even a bit of his iron control, especially when The Barrow was filled with guests.
“I’d be short one friend,” he warned Blythe. “I’ve not that many to begin with and can’t afford to lose either of you. That would leave me with only Estwood at the card table.”
Blythe was a decent enough shot, but challenging Haven, who was deadly with either swords or pistols, wasn’t wise. “Stop antagonizing Haven.”
Blythe clinked his glass with the unsmiling Haven’s. “Very well. I apologize, Haven. Lady Meredith Claremont is here. She’s pretty.Lovelybosom. Much younger than Lady Mildred.” He wiggled his brows.
“Have you compromised her?”
“No,” Blythe said, not the least offended by Haven’s question. “And I promise not to steal so much as a kiss if your interest lies in her direction.”
“Fine.” Haven curled his lip. “I shall consider her and anyone else who has been invited. Perhaps Granby’s aunt is seeking to secure more than one match with this party.”
“I’m not sure she’s eager to secure mine,” David said off-hand, receiving a curious look from Haven.
Blythe studied the contents of his glass, remaining silent. A first.
“Lady Richardson seeks a husband for her daughter,” David finally said, if only to break the sudden tension in the study. “I met her briefly upon their enthusiastic arrival. Attractive enough. And there’s two other young ladies, cousins of Lady Richardson, who were invited at the last minute. I haven’t seen them, so I can’t speak for their appearance, but perhaps one of them will do. Youarestill a marquess, Haven. Waterstone wants a title for his daughter.”
“Waterstone is a bigger deterrent than his daughter’s lisp.” Haven snorted. “I can’t imagine enduring his company for a lifetime.”
“We’ll leave out Lady Beatrice Howard as a potential match.” Blythe swirled the scotch in his mouth before taking a swallow. “I believe she’s spoken for, isn’t she? Leave it to Gran to put his claim on the most beautiful young lady in England. But then, Gran likes pretty things. Is fond of collecting them, in fact.”
“I do.” David declined to elaborate further, though most of London assumed he would offer officially for Beatrice during the house party.
A pair of magnificent blue eyes floated before him. Andromeda Barrington. Far more beautiful, in his estimation, than Lady Beatrice Howard, but so much more unsuitable. She was stunning even wearing the hideous dress he’d seen her in at Madame Dupree’s.
Or better still, if she wore nothing at all.
Arousal slipped down his thighs at the thought of Andromeda, naked, beneath him. David’s cock hardened. Painfully. Thank God his coat was now the correct length.
“Lady Beatrice will be just another possession for Gran, like those bloody statues he’s been collecting. Or those stone paintings.” Blythe tossed back his drink with an angry flick of his wrist.
“Frescoes,” David corrected him, wondering at Blythe’s mood. “Ancient Roman frescoes.”
“I do like the new painting, by the way.” Blythe nodded at the seascape hanging on the wall. “Fills me with a sense of melancholy. Terribly expensive, I’m sure.”
“It wasn’t,” David said, knowing even if the seascape’s cost had been exorbitant, he would have purchased it. The knowledge irritated him.
“Art is a waste of money,” Haven grumbled.
“Spoken as a man with little appreciation or funds for it,” Blythe said. “Shouldwe be expecting an announcement, Your Grace?”
“Foxwood certainly thinks so.” David was bothered by his own inexplicable reticence in confirming his plans to marry Beatrice. His decisions were always the result of careful thought. Planning. Logic. Once decided, he rarely deviated from his chosen path.
Which was Beatrice.
His cock, still stimulated by thoughts of Andromeda, disagreed.
“You don’t even like her, Gran.” Blythe’s words bled with irritation. “Shouldn’t you at leastlikethe woman you’ll marry?”
