Page 28 of The Viscount's Promise
The blood drained from his face. Yes, he needed to get away from her, as quickly as possible, before he did something he would regret.
“I’m glad I could be of help,” he said. “Your sister is a lovely young woman. I do think, however—”
“You don’t understand the change that’s come over her.” Willbridge seemed completely oblivious to the tension that was coiling like a snake ready to strike in Malcolm’s breast. His eyes looked to be turned inward, toward some less than pleasant memory. “I mean, you actually got her to dance two nights ago. I cannot begin to tell you how that made me feel. I was seeing my sister for the first time with the hope of a normal future.”
The man was making this harder by the minute. Malcolm once again opened his mouth to speak, to tell his friend he had to leave Willowhaven immediately, that Lady Emily knew what they had been about. But Willbridge, it seemed, was not quite done.
“I admit I had my doubts. Especially as you were so against the idea. I very nearly relented and told you to forget the entire thing.”
Malcolm began to sweat. “Willbridge—”
“You have no idea how your presence here eases my mind. I don’t think I could leave on our wedding trip with any comfort if you weren’t here in my stead. I vow, this house party that my mother and Lady Tarryton are so adamant on throwing had me nervous as hell when they told me of it. But after seeing how Emily has responded to you over the past days, I know I’m leaving her in good hands.” He smiled broadly. “But enough about all that. You wished to speak to me of something?”
Malcolm felt vaguely sick. The guilt he’d been feeling over Lady Emily doubled in the space of a second. If he told Willbridge now, his friend would either suffer for worrying over his sister throughout the duration of his wedding trip, or he would insist on staying back and thereby ruin his first days as a married man.
A small devil perched on his shoulders. So what if the entire thing was ruined? It was Willbridge’s family, after all. It certainly wasn’t Malcolm’s responsibility, damn it. If his friend wished so desperately to play the family man, shouldn’t he be the one to deal with all of the problems that went along with it?
In the next moment he pushed the selfish thoughts aside. He would not do that to him. No matter whose responsibility it was, he cared for Willbridge and his happiness too much to be a bastard about it now. The whole mess was his own fault, after all. He should have had the strength to say no from the get-go, instead of crumbling under pressure and being forced into that damnable promise. He had known it was a bad idea from the start. Now he would have to deal with the consequences.
Willbridge was smiling at him, waiting patiently. Malcolm managed a sickly one in return. “I have not had a chance to congratulate you on your marriage.” There was a sudden thickness in his throat and he cleared it loudly. “Imogen is a wonderful woman. I know she’ll make you happy.”
To his surprise—and horror—Willbridge began blinking rapidly. Was the man going to cry? His friendahemedgruffly several times, adjusted his cravat, and generally avoided Malcolm’s eye. After what seemed an inordinately long time, he pulled himself together enough to look up and say, with feeling, “Thank you, Morley. Coming from you, that means a great deal.”
“Think nothing of it,” Malcolm mumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape this debacle of an exchange.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” his friend said, “I wonder if I might talk with you about something that’s been troubling me.” He paused, as if searching for the words. “Have you noticed anything between Tristan and Daphne?”
What could he say to that? “Yes,” he answered truthfully.
Willbridge frowned. “I admit, I’d hoped it was all in my head.”
Malcolm was suddenly incredibly grateful he had never been burdened with sisters. His friend looked a decade older in the space of a heartbeat. “I’m sure there’s nothing there,” he said. There was little conviction behind the words, however.
Willbridge tried for a smile. It did not reach his eyes. “You’re a blasted terrible liar, Morley.” The smile fell from his face as he took out his pocket watch. “But there is no time to prevaricate,” he muttered. “Admit it, man. Tristan has an interest in her.”
“Mayhap,” was all Malcolm would say.
Willbridge nodded. “Though it pains me to do it, I must ask another favor of you, my friend.”
Damn it all to hell.
“It is not that I don’t think the match would be a good one on all sides,” Willbridge continued. “Though Daphne is my youngest sister...” Here his face twisted with a mix of disgust and displeasure and exhausted affection. He cleared his throat. “If they truly loved one another, I would have to support them. Tristan is a good fellow, and with his fortune I know he can provide for Daphne.” Here he looked Malcolm straight in the eye. “But you and I both know, though we love the man, Tristan is a flighty fellow at best. There is no way in hell he’s ready to take on a wife. Especially one of Daphne’s temperament.”
Which was all too true. Malcolm’s stomach dropped. “You want me to look after them while you’re gone.” It was not a question. He could see the intent in his friend’s eyes, the muted kind of panic.
“I’m asking too much of you.” Willbridge raked a hand through his hair. “If there was anyone else I could trust to do the damn thing right, I would infinitely prefer it.”
As would I, Malcolm thought.
“This is a delicate thing, though,” his friend continued. “My mother would be more than happy to promote the match immediately, and if I talked to Tristan or Daphne, there is no telling what fool notion it might put into their heads.”
Willbridge was growing more agitated by the minute.
Malcolm held up a hand. “I’ll do it.”
Relief filled his friend’s eyes. “You are certain? I truly do hate to do this to you, Morley.”
Malcolm shrugged, even as he felt the last rays of hope for escaping this place extinguish. “I am already in Lady Emily’s company most of the time. Lady Daphne is never far from her. It won’t be much more trouble.”
