The Untamed Earl(10)
Swifdon, Claringdon, and Cavendish. They were all good, to a man. They tolerated Owen’s debauched company because of Cassandra.
“Why so glum, Monroe?” Derek Hunt, the Duke of Claringdon, asked soon after the cards had been passed round and the brandies ordered.
“My father is on the warpath.” Owen assessed the looks in the other men’s eyes and quickly cleared his throat. These were three men who had seen actual war. “My apologies. I meant … he’s giving me hell.”
“What seems to be the problem?” asked his brother-in-law, Julian Swift, the Earl of Swifdon.
Owen rolled his neck. “He insists I marry.”
“As fathers will do. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down?” Claringdon replied.
“Yes, Monroe, marriage has a way of catching up to the best of us,” Cavendish said with a unrepentant grin.
“It’s not that,” Owen replied. “I’d actually resigned myself to the marriage part. It’s the prospective bride to whom I object.”
Swifdon whistled. “Who, may I ask, is the lucky lady?”
“Lavinia Hobbs.”
All three men winced simultaneously. And thus, the bad news had begun.
“You know her?” Owen asked, sitting up straighter in his chair and searching their faces.
“Can’t say we’ve ever met,” Cavendish replied.
“But her reputation precedes her,” Claringdon added.
“She’s known to be a bit … difficult, I believe,” Swifdon finished.
“Yes, I’ve noted that ‘difficult’ seems to be the preferred adjective used when describing her,” Owen replied with a snort.
“Why in the devil’s name would your father choose her?” Claringdon asked as the footman returned with their drinks.
“To torture me?” Owen replied, knocking back half his drink.
“Now there, slow down,” Swifdon said. “This isn’t one of your gaming hells. It’s the middle of the afternoon, for God’s sake.”
Owen grunted at his brother-in-law.
“If Monroe here has to marry Lady Lavinia Hobbs, I daresay he might need something stiffer than brandy.” Cavendish shook his head.
“Your father’s reasoning cannot truly be to torture you. Why is he insisting upon the match?” Claringdon wanted to know.
Owen leaned back in his chair and blew out a deep breath. “Seems her father and mine have got it into their heads that a match between our families is an excellent idea. Joining estates and all of that.”
“Ah,” one of them muttered, and they all three nodded as if the joining of estates explained it all.
“Daphne mentioned Lady Lavinia is excitable,” Swifdon offered.
Now Cavendish whistled. “‘Excitable’? That’s one way to put it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
“I once went to the duke’s town house on some business for the Home Office,” Cavendish replied. “There was a god-awful racket coming from upstairs. Seems Lady Lavinia was in a temper. The duke himself apologized to me for the bother and the noise.”
Owen winced. “A temper? What happened?”
Cavendish tossed a card onto the table. “When I was leaving, I heard two of the footmen talking. Apparently, the feather in one of milady’s hats had wilted and she was none too pleased. They mentioned she’d smashed a vase and slapped her maid.”
“The duke should take care to keep his footmen from talking so much,” Claringdon said, tossing his own card onto the table.
“I believe you’re missing the point, Claringdon,” Cavendish replied. “She was in the devil’s own temper over a feather.”
“I heard you,” Claringdon replied, still surveying his cards. “I was trying not to focus on that part.”
“Thank you for that,” Owen said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“You’re welcome.” Claringdon inclined his head with a smile.
“I hesitate to admit that I’ve heard similar stories about the girl,” said Swifdon.
“Blast. What have you heard?” Owen eyed Swifdon warily.
Swifdon shuffled his cards in his hands. “Daphne mentioned she’s a bit of a shrew.”
“You’re not a bit of a shrew,” Cavendish replied. “You’re either a shrew or not a shrew. There’s no ‘bit’ about it.”
“What did Daphne say?” Owen asked.
Swifdon’s nose wrinkled. “She said that she’d heard that Lady Lavinia threw a screaming fit in the ladies’ retiring room at the Houghtons’ ball last spring.”