Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,40

was bound to mention Lilias, her ruination, and the subsequent gossip. It had taken him all day since Owen’s visit to get himself under control. He felt like a caged lion, which was why he was here imbibing.

He still could not manage to feel pleased for Owen and Lilias, though he should, given what he’d set out to do had been accomplished. He may have failed his brother, but he had not failed Owen. Nash had proven to himself that he could be painfully selfless. He should feel somewhat redeemed, but instead he felt damned. A blackness was swallowing him, and God help him, he wanted to let it, but he had responsibilities.

When Carrington cocked his eyebrows at Nash, he realized he had not answered his friend’s question. “If you wish,” Nash replied, raising his hand toward a serving girl standing by one of the fireplaces.

Carrington mimicked the gesture as he pulled out the empty chair and sat, eyeing Nash’s wrapped hand. “What happened to yer hand?”

“It met a wall,” Nash replied flatly.

Carrington cocked an eyebrow at that but wisely did not ask. “I hear Blackwood and Lady Lilias are to wed.”

Nash’s teeth instinctively clenched as the serving girl came to stand by their table. He tapped the side of his glass to indicate he’d have another of the same while Carrington placed his order. When the girl left, Nash forced himself to answer. “Yes, Owen told me this morning.”

Carrington’s gaze touched on Nash’s wrapped hand once more, then met Nash’s eyes, probing him. “My wife was verra surprised Lady Lilias agreed to wed him.”

Lilias’s image popped into Nash’s head unbidden. Her full-lipped smile. Good God, why could he not forget that smile? It teased and tormented him. Nash tried not to react to his own roaring memories or Carrington’s news. “Was she?” he said mildly, fighting back a frown with such fierceness that his temples throbbed. “Why would her friend agreeing to wed the man who has her heart surprise your wife?” He was pleased with how bored he sounded and that the girl was returning with their libations. He could use his drink as a distraction, lest Carrington see something on Nash’s face that he did not want the man to bear witness to.

“I had a wager with myself whether ye’d take up the bait I threw out,” Carrington said, his voice smooth as a polished rock.

Damn Carrington.

“I inquired only out of politeness,” Nash retorted, feeling surly. “You wouldn’t know about that, though. You were raised in Scotland, where manners are not taught. You are in the heart of England now, my friend, and it’s polite to respond to people’s leading statements.”

Carrington scoffed. “Ye never did that in Scotland. Ye ignored me.”

“I adapt to the expectations of my surroundings,” Nash replied, forcing a smile.

“As I was saying,” Carrington continued, then took a swig of his drink before completing his sentence, “my wife was surprised.”

Nash let silence fall between them. He had no intention of rising to the bait again, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Are ye not going to ask why?”

“No.” But if Carrington didn’t offer the answer anyway, Nash might just use the man’s perfectly tied cravat to strangle him. “A cravat does not suit you tied like that. I could rework it for you.” He did not hide the veiled threat in his tone.

Carrington laughed. “I’d like to see ye try. But as I wish to return home soon, I’ll just get to my point.”

“That would be bloody amazing. This conversation is fast becoming tedious.”

Carrington flashed a grin. “Guinevere was surprised that Lady Lilias accepted Blackwood’s offer because she does not believe her friend loves the man. Guinevere feels Lilias must have been compelled to accept him so that she could aid her mother and sister financially.”

The drink Nash had picked up fell from his hand, hit the table, and sloshed liquor over the dark wood. The glass tilted onto its side with a rattle.

Nash didn’t move. He was too stunned, but Carrington did. He righted the glass before it spilled completely, then met Nash’s gaze. “I know of yer history with Lady Lilias. Guinevere told me.”

“There is no history but a brief friendship.” It was a bloody lie. He worshipped her.

I vowed not to interfere. But if she doesn’t love Owen… If she’s wedding Owen only for her family’s sake…

“Shut up,” he hissed to himself.

“Pardon?” Carrington said with a frown.

Good Christ. Nash swiped a hand over his face. He was going mad. Thoughts of