Mark’s shoulders eased. ‘What man?’
‘Nothing happened, Mark. It is over.’
Bloody hell, his friend had actually thought…despite his truthful denial. His word of honour. ‘I ought to put out your daylights,’ Garth said.
‘I won’t try to stop you,’ Mark said. ‘I’m sorry for thinking the worst.’
Wasn’t the worst what everyone thought? Even Rosabella, when he was trying to do the right thing. The fault of the reputation he’d carefully cultivated all these years. ‘No harm done.’ He stuck out a hand and they shook.
‘Did you find Mrs Travenor?’ Penelope asked. ‘I liked her, she was very kind. She has a wonderful voice, Mark. I couldn’t think why she dashed off to London that way, but I do hope she is all right.’ She looked at Garth expectantly.
Surprised, Garth stared back. He hadn’t expected her to care about anyone but herself. ‘She is why I am here. We are going to be married.’
If he had fired a pistol in the room, there wouldn’t have been as much shock on their faces.
‘Damn it, Garth,’ Mark said finally. ‘You certainly know how to surprise a fellow. Who is this woman?’
‘Where is she?’ Penelope asked at the same moment.
‘With me,’ Garth said. ‘To cut a long story short, she is not a widow, has never been married, and she’s a Cavendish. Pelham’s granddaughter. Not knowing any of that, I… Well, things got out of hand.’
‘You ruined her,’ Mark said bluntly.
Garth gazed at the fresco around the ceiling. ‘It is more complicated than that, but in the eyes of the world, yes.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Penelope said.
Garth paced around the breakfast table. ‘The thing is, if any word of this gets out, she will never be accepted in society. It will be bad enough that she is married to me.’
Mark raised his brows in tacit agreement.
‘She will need a respectable sponsor.’ He winced. ‘And I need somewhere for us to be married in a hurry.’
‘Why not ask her grandfather?’
‘He is not amenable to such an arrangement.’
Mark nodded. ‘Irascible old gentleman, Pelham. I’ve seen him in action in the House.’
‘Rosabella has two sisters and eventually she wants them to make a splash in society. I said I would help, but honestly, without some respectable female taking her under her wing, she doesn’t stand a chance. None of the old biddies will so much as glance at her if she is my wife.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Penelope said.
Mark looked at her askance.
‘Please, Mark. We both owe Stanford our gratitude.’
‘Where is she now? Blackheath?’
Garth’s discreet little town house, recently vacant. ‘Not the kind of place one takes a prospective wife,’ he said, recalling what had happened when Kit took Sylvia there. ‘She is here in town.’
‘With your mother?’
‘God, no.’
‘Perhaps you could enlist Lady Stanford’s help?’ Mark said. ‘She is well in with all the old biddies.’
Garth wouldn’t ask her for a bandage if his life’s blood was draining out on the floor. He shook his head. ‘She would never agree.’
Penelope said nothing, she just gazed at her husband with those big green eyes of hers, eyes that seemed to melt her husband, but left Garth feeling cold.
He wasn’t going to force his friend into helping him. ‘I’ll leave you to finish your breakfast in peace.’
‘No. Wait,’ Mark said. ‘We can help. Lord knows, I owe you. Again. But whatever we do, I will not have a breath of scandal attached to my wife.’
‘More scandal,’ she said with a tired little smile, but she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
Garth wondered if there wasn’t more to the green-eyed miss than he’d first thought. ‘There is one slight problem.’
They both looked at him. ‘The people at Lady Keswick’s house party are going to recognise her.’
Mark looked grim. ‘Wonderful. The same people who saw Penelope there. All we can do is brazen it out.’
While he sensed disharmony between this newly married pair, they seemed to have come to some sort of truce and were prepared to come to his aid. For Rosabella’s sake, he wasn’t going to delve any deeper. ‘I am in your debt. Here is what I need.’
Chapter Thirteen
Rosa sat in the small drawing room upstairs, reading while she waited for Garth to return. A knock on the door to the street made her lift her head, listening for the sound of his voice, but he’d said he wouldn’t be back until dinner time. It must be a caller. A visitor for Garth. The butler would send them away. A few moments later, the butler arrived at the door. ‘Lady Smythe to