Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,46

room, it seemed the perfection of the day was being torn asunder.

Raised voices quarreled angrily, most notably Rupert’s.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re about!” he said furiously. “It’s just a repeat of after the duel. You got rid of me then so you could marry Georgianna, and now you want rid of me again because she’s coming here. And yes, I do know she is on her way because Chris told me. Chris, not you!”

Deborah and Chris exchanged rueful glances.

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop shouting,” Dudley said irritably as they walked in. “It wasn’t like that then or now. I forgot to tell you Georgianna is coming. Probably because it makes no difference to you. Now you are so much improved, you need to be away from here for your own safety.”

“Your safety,” Rupert snarled. “Are you afraid I’ll take her from you even now? Or just that I’ll find out what you did?”

“Rupert, sit down,” Christopher said shortly. “You’ll frighten the servants. Dudley, he’s not going anywhere for another couple of days. I know for a fact the excisemen have left the area, so he’s in no danger.”

Rupert sat, still fuming, and muttered an apology to Deborah.

Clearly, the new beauty of the room was not going to get the attention it deserved, but she tried her best, in a desperate effort to change the subject and calm Rupert’s temper.

“What do you think, Christopher? Is it too bare or just elegantly spacious?”

“I like it,” he said. “You have worked magic here, too. I glanced in at the salons earlier, and they are looking quite magnificent. Don’t you think, sir?” he added to his grandfather, who had walked into the room.

“You have taste,” Lord Hawfield allowed. “And you’re not afraid of hard work.”

“Thank you,” Deborah murmured, stunned by the accolade.

Tea was brought in, and Deborah poured it out. She almost hoped the moment of ill-feeling had passed when Rupert burst out, “What is Barden to you, Dudley?”

“Barden?” Dudley said, startled. “Nothing. I barely know the man. You chose him as your second in your ill-advised duel.”

“But you spoke to him, didn’t you? You told him to bring me straight to you afterward, just as if you knew something would happen.”

“Of course I did!” Dudley said, goaded. “You were fighting a damned duel!”

Rupert pounced. “So you did speak to him? Did you tell him to kill Harlow?”

“Of course, I did not! And how the devil could he have done so?”

“Then tell me what happened,” Rupert challenged. “How come Harlow died when neither Barden nor I shot him? Did you know the doctor?”

“Oh, for the love of God! Do I have to listen to this? Forgive me, Deborah.” With a hasty bow, Dudley stalked from the room.

“Nicely done, Rupert,” Christopher observed. “A master-class in how to learn nothing while riling your brother to the extent he will no longer speak to you.”

Rupert growled. “I’ve spent nearly two years doing nothing. I won’t spend another with my name blackened. And I’ll tell you something else, Dudley is up to his neck in this. He knows a good deal more than he’s saying.”

*

It was, perhaps, as well that they dined that night at Letchworth House, giving the brothers an evening apart to cool off.

“What started the argument off?” Christopher asked Dudley as the carriage began its journey.

Dudley shrugged impatiently. “I suggested he go back to his ship first thing tomorrow.”

“Just because you are expecting your wife tomorrow?” Deborah said. “Cousin, you should have more faith in her if not in yourself.”

She meant it at the time, and yet almost as soon as they entered Coggleton House, the advice rang hollow in her ears.

They were shown immediately up to the drawing room, where her mother and Lucy were already ensconced along with Lady Letchworth, Sir Edmund, and Mr. and Mrs. Ireton. As hostess, Lady Letchworth came immediately to greet them, but for some reason, Deborah’s attention had strayed to Mrs. Ireton, whose face had lit up in animated welcome. Deborah had never quite realized her beauty before, had never seen that the smile behind it was aimed solely at Christopher.

Only then did she begin to understand Dudley’s full sense of futility, fighting against an earlier love that had never formally ended. She had heard rumors of Christopher’s amorous affairs in London, but foolishly, it had never entered her head that there was one almost on her doorstep.

Keeping the smile plastered to her face, she tried to shore up her crumbling world, reminding herself that nothing