“So why did you leave her in Spain?” Harry asked. “Why didn’t you send her home to your mother?”
“Because it wasn’t supposed to be a permanent marriage,” Luke said, exasperated. “It was just a temporary measure. I—we thought the marriage could be annulled later. And besides—” He broke off.
Harry twirled his brandy slowly in his glass. “Besides,you thought you’d be killed before that happened.” He glanced at Rafe. “We remember what you were like after Michael was killed.”
The fire hissed and crackled in the grate.
“This was before Michael died,” Luke said.
In the distance they could hear the clinking and clattering of crockery and silverware. Michael was the sunniest one of them all; bright, uncomplicated, the golden boy.
Luke forced his mind back to the present. “I toldmymother about Isabella this evening. She’s not very happy about me leaving the country so soon before Molly’s come-out—”
“I’m not surprised—” Rafe began.
“—so I told her she could call on you for any advice or assistance she and Molly might need. Escorting them to balls and routs, shopping, that sort of thing.”
Rafe struggled to hide an appalled look. “Er, delighted to assist Lady Ripton, of course.”
Harry let out a crack of laughter. “Haven’t you heard how delightful Rafe’s found the preparations for Ayisha’s first London season? Endless discussion of silks and laces and bonnets and the intricacies of female what-have-yous.” He waved his hand to indicate reams of never-ending discussion. “Rafe, my lad, you’ll be in your element.”
Rafe sent Harry a black scowl. “You and Nell should never have introduced Ayisha to Lady Gosforth. The woman lives to shop! She has even infected my sensible Ayisha.”
Harry chuckled. “Force of nature, Aunt Gosforth.”
“Naturally I included you in the offer, Harry,” Luke said smoothly. “You know how fond my mother is of you.”
Harry’s grin slipped. “Blast. You know I’m no good at all that society stuff.”
“But you’ll do it.” It wasn’t a question. He knew they would.
His friends sighed and nodded. Rafe refilled their glasses. “There’ll be a deal of talk about this marriage, you know,” he said. “Could get ugly. You know they’re betting on who’ll be married first, you or Marcus.”
Luke grimaced. “I know. I want you to put it about that I’ve been called away to Spain on an urgent estate matter—my uncle owned vineyards in the south of Spain, if you recall. No mention of any bride; just estate business.”
“Excellent notion,” Rafe declared. “Then, when you return from Spain with a blushing bride on your arm, everyone thinks you two met, fell in love, and married in the space of a week or two.”
“Let thetongossip about the whirlwind romance.” Harry nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”
They drank.
After a moment Rafe said, “You do know, I suppose, that if you bring a Spanish bride home, every eligible female in thetonwill want to claw her eyes out. I hope she’s ravishingly pretty.”
Luke sipped his brandy. “She’s not. But she’s a brave little soul. She’ll manage.”
Luke’s mother tossed and turned late into the night. Her son had always brought home strays and wounded creatures, from the first bird he found with a broken wing, to boys from school, like Harry and Gabe who had no family to go to, or Rafe whose father had no use for him and showed it.
It was one thing to love your son for his kindness to wounded creatures; it was quite another to see him bound toone in the shackles of marriage.
For the last four years she’d watched the young ladies of thetonsimper and flirt and do all but throw themselves at Luke, seeing only his handsome face and, since his uncle died, his title. It hadn’t worried her that Luke showed little interest. They were shallow creatures for the most part, not worthy of her beloved only son.
This year she was confident she’d found several very pretty girls with character, the type of girls who would love Luke for himself. She’d been looking forward to introducing them.
Now there was no point.
She reached for the hot milk she’d ordered, but it was cold now with a nasty skin. She pushed it away. Her bed felt colder and emptier than ever.
She’d never stopped missing Luke’s father; never stopped reaching for him in the night and waking to find herselfalone. The love of her life; she shouldn’t complain.They’dhadtwenty of the happiest years together.
