The Earl and His Virgin Countess(4)

Patting him on the shoulder, Simon chuckled. “She hit you harder than you thought if she has addled your brain so. Wolfe, do you remember that time Lord Tenley got punched at Eton so hard he didn’t remember his own name or who hit him? Eventually his name came back, but he never did remember the fight.”

“Gentlemen, there is a wedding to attend to…. Oh dear! Can you even see out of that eye, milord?” A blonde woman Andrew didn’t recognize placed her hand on Wolfe’s shoulder. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on Andrew, even with damaged vision. “Perhaps a poultice would be called for. After Simon’s vows, I would be happy to make one for you.”

Like a dog with a bone and unable to let it go, Simon asked, “Are you sure a woman did this?”

Andrew narrowed his good eye. “I was there. I assure you, she was a woman.”

“I want to meet her trainer.” Wolfe laughed and lifted the feminine hand on his shoulder to his lips before placing it in the crook of his arm. “Andrew, I don’t think you have had the pleasure to meet Lady Elizabeth Hamilton—Llysa, my future duchess.”

“It’s a pleasure, milady.” His bow, normally graceful and low, had to be cut short by the pounding behind his eye. In the course of twenty-four hours, two of his closest friends had fallen to the parson’s trap. Yet Andrew’d had no idea either had been interested in, let alone courted, a woman. The adoration plain to see in both his grace and Llysa showed theirs was not an arranged marriage, and Andrew suspected they knew each other far better than they should.

“Lord Windenshire, it a pleasure to meet another of Wolfe’s friends. I am sure we will be seeing much of you after the wedding.” Her attention remained on Wolfe, the pure love and joy brightening the room before she turned her attention to Simon. “Simon, your bride is ready.”

“Time to get your leg shackled,” Wolfe added, but his gaze focused on Llysa.

“Happily.” Simon headed for the door then paused. “Andrew, in the left-hand drawer of my desk is a writing set. Can you bring it so we can sign the marriage registry for the clergyman?”

Waving them off, Andrew approached the opulent baroque-style desk at the far end of the room. He opened the drawer, pulled out the quill set, but with his perception off, managed to brush quite a few papers to the floor. Crouching, he ignored the throb in his head and collected the scattered pages. An expensive envelope with a deep red wax seal caught his attention. Though broken, the embossed E on the seal stood out. He placed the letter back on the table and the name on the envelope jumped out at him. Madame Evangeline.

Leaning back on his heel, he glanced through the open doors to the other room. Simon stood before the parson with his bride at his side. Next to him, Wolfe played second, his attention moving back and forth from the clergyman to Simon’s fiancée on the other side of Chandra, herself soon to be the new Marchioness of Breckinridge.

Two lords, both engaged within a short time, and at least one had acquired the services of the elusive and expensive 1Night Stand service. Andrew suspected Wolfe had, too. If one had enough money and was in need of a discreet liaison for a night, no one did a better job of arranging one than Madame Evangeline. Not that Andrew knew much more about the secretive woman than a reputation only whispered about, other than her uncanny ability to bring two people together for an unforgettable evening that often went beyond that night. Since first learning about the woman a few weeks prior at a weekly poker game with the other lords, he had let curiosity get the better of him. Unfortunately, not many would admit to contacting Madame Evangeline, let alone using her services. But the few who did said she was the best.

Picking up the card that had fallen out of the envelope, he pocketed it. Since his friend obviously no longer needed it.

After making sure he’d put everything back in its rightful place, Andrew joined the wedding party in the other room. With the previous night’s ordeal still fresh in his mind, perhaps he should follow Simon’s lead, stop trying to find a woman within the ton, and let a professional handle it for him.

Eventually, luck had to be on his side.

Right?



***



Tears flowed, but whether from the pain in her knuckles, or the sadness in her heart, Miranda couldn’t say. After arriving alone back at her aunt’s house, she’d spent the rest of the evening under the covers, crying into her pillows in hopes no one would hear her. Embarrassed and feeling betrayed, she didn’t think she could handle the servants’ gossip as well. Since Miranda had snuck off the night before with Lord Windenshire into the garden, her whole sense of who she was had collapsed. Everything she had ever done or been taught had been a lie. She had wasted her life on a dream, been a naïve fool to believe what everyone told her without question.