“What did Delphine say?” Seb’s twin sister was the worst gossip in the family, which probably accounted for why she remained unmarried well into her second Season.
“Flowers . . . something about flowers. Ah yes. They are all named after flowers! Blossom, Tulip, Cowslip . . .” He dissolved into drunken laughter at his own joke.
Nicholas frowned. “Which one is my bride?” he asked, his heart sinking. He was about to be saddled with a silly country virgin, precisely the kind of female he despised.
Sebastian’s eyes popped. “You mean you don’t know?”
Nicholas was forced to shake his head. “My grandmother is the one who wanted me married, so I told her to arrange it. Apparently, she has.”
“Indeed,” Sebastian said soberly. Nicholas turned toward his coach, but Sebastian caught his sleeve. “Look, I’ll make inquiries, shall I? I’ll ask Delphie and Eleanor. If anyone has any information, they will.”
Nicholas looked at his friend. He was drunk, probably wouldn’t even recall the conversation, especially if he went back inside to drink some more. Still, if Nicholas started asking questions himself, he’d look like an even bigger fool than he felt.
“I trust you’ll be discreet,” he said.
Sebastian laid a hand on his heart. “What would you like to know?”
Nicholas hesitated. Nothing. Everything. He wished again he were back at war, but the war was over, and David was dead, and he was the Duke of Temberlay. That meant marriage and children and becoming a pillar of English society, all the things he detested.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Nick!” Sebastian scoffed.
Nicholas opened the door of his coach. “Of a woman named after a flower? Not a chance.”
He’d eat her alive, and spit out the petals.
“D’you suppose he knows anything? He’s not the gullible fool his brother was,” Augustus Howard said as he boarded Wilton’s coach.
“You seem worried. About what?” Wilton asked, knocking on the roof of the coach, giving the order to drive on. “He’s as big a fool as his brother.” He regarded his companion’s nervous expression coldly. “Don’t you find the irony satisfying? Temberlay is about to marry the daughter of the man who helped kill his own brother. I doubt he even knows.”
Augustus frowned. The afternoon sun streaming into the coach emphasized his wrinkles, the paunch under his waistcoat.
“You got a pretty little wife out of it, didn’t you?” Wilton asked. “How is sweet little Claire? Still pining for her true love every time you touch her?”
“I love my wife. You didn’t love yours,” Augustus shot back.
“We both got what we wanted. Revenge is sweet, don’t you think? Perhaps we can yet destroy Nicholas Hartley for his sins. He’s home now.”
“His brother paid the debt!” Augustus hissed.
Wilton shot him a cold look. “It’s not enough. David was merely a substitute, since Nicholas wasn’t here. He is now.”
Augustus swallowed, and Wilton smiled coldly. “Go home to sweet little Claire, old man. Take her to bed, and be glad it wasn’t your wife he ruined.”
“When will this end?” Augustus moaned.
Wilton turned to look out the window. “When I say it’s over.”
Chapter 3
“Where’s your sister, Meg?” Amy asked, opening the bed curtains with a swish. Meg squinted at the housekeeper and shut her eyes again. She had nightmares about her father’s death. When her dreams were at their worst, Rose often slept in the dressing room for a little peace. The nightmares were a secret they shared. If Mama found out, she might ask what they were about, and if she knew, it might well send her back into her shadow world of grief and pain.