Page 61 of The Marquess Wins a Wife
“If you’ll pardon me, my lord, Mr. Wycombe implied that he was expected—”
Christ. He’d forgotten about Wycombe. The whole evening, prior to arriving home, was a rather unfortunate blur. He flexed his knuckles, feeling the tender skin burn at the motion. Vaguely, he remembered making demands—forcibly—of Wycombe. Probably they had included a command to present himself on the morrow.
Which wasnow. Damn it all.
“I’ll see him,” he growled. “Set him up in my office.”
“My lord, Mr. Wycombe has been waiting in the drawing room for some time now already—”
“He kept me waiting in Hatfield,” Luke snarled. “He can damn well wait upon my convenience now.”
“Of course, sir.” And as Radcliff left the room, ostensibly to convey the command to a footman, Luke stumbled to his feet and considered, for once, that perhaps therewassucha thing as too much brandy.
∞∞∞
Wycombe sported a black eye, a split lip, and a nose that looked as if it might be broken, and he was jogging his knee rhythmically up and down in a surfeit of nervousness as Luke entered his office.
“Wycombe,” Luke said as he stalked toward his chair. “I’ll admit I was surprised to see you in London last evening, given that I wrote to you some time ago to meet me in Hatfield.”
Wycombe swallowed audibly, his bouncing leg going abruptly still. “Must have missed the message,” he said, though his gaze shied away from meeting Luke’s. A lie, no doubt, but given that the manhadturned up as requested this time around, Luke was inclined to be generous—and there was the fact that his knuckles still ached like the devil, and he was not eager to put them to such strenuous use again.
“Probably you thought there would be no consequences for despoiling an innocent young girl,” Luke said, and the worst of it was that it was, largely,true. Men of his station rarely had to pay for such mistakes. If a woman found herself with child out of wedlock, well, that was only her own concern. “You madepromisesto Imogen Talbot, Wycombe. And you will damn well keep them.”
“Iwantto,” Wycombe blurted out. “But my father has higher aspirations for me; he’s sworn to cut me off if I do. I’ve been attempting—” His voice broke on a shrill squeak of shame. “I’ve been attempting, thus far without much success, to secure a position somewhere.” A small, dry laugh eked from his lips. “It’s the only reason I was at that house party to begin with—I had heard that the owner of the house had been seeking an estate manager. I thought to put myself forward for the position.”
Surprised, Luke sank back in his chair. Wycombe wasn’t noble—nor had he any hope of coming into a title—but he came from a well-to-do family nonetheless, and it was not the habit of men from such families to seek employment.
“Without my father’s support, I have no means to repay my debts,” Wycombe admitted, face downcast. “I cannot ask Imogen to suffer poverty on my account. I must find some means of supporting her.”
Luke would never have expected it. Had he allowed his feelings on love to prejudice him against Wycombe from the start? He shook himself free of his stupor, pressing his fingers to his aching temples.
Still, the man had been the catalyst of so much chaos in Luke’s life. “You, Wycombe, have caused no small amount of trouble for me. And as it happens, I owe my marriage to your unscrupulous behavior. Did you not wonder where I had gone off to that night from your country house?”
Slowly, Wycombe shook his head. “We assumed you had tired of the house party,” he said. “It wouldn’t have been the first time.”
True enough, though he’d never been foolish enough to leave his belongings behind before. “Lizzie Talbot caught me outside,” he said. “She mistook me foryou, Wycombe, and held me at gunpoint all the way to Hatfield. Where she thenshotme.” Even if ithadbeen an accident.
“And youmarriedthis woman?” Aghast, Wycombe sank back in his seat.
“I have. And in the doing, I became responsible for all of the Talbots—Imogen included. Perhaps your father would be comforted to know that she is now the sister-by-marriage of a marquess. And she’ll have a dowry befitting her new station, naturally.” Against all odds, he had begun to suspect that Imogen had been right all along—Wycombedidlove her.
A cautious optimism bloomed across Wycombe’s face, made slightly macabre by his wounds. “Do you mean to say,” he breathed, “that Icanmarry her?”
“As she presently carries your child, I am going to have to insist that you do.”
“ThankGod.” Wycombe popped up from his chair with such alacrity that it made Luke’s head spin, and he found himself baffled still further when Wycombe grasped his hand and pumped it vigorously. “Thank God,” he repeated. “And thank you, my lord. If you’ll excuse me, I have a proposal to make.”
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“Oh, Lizzie, I simplymusthave a bridal trousseau,” Imogen said as she came sailing in to dinner that evening. “Darling Cecil has got a reputation to uphold, and I cannot be a stain upon it with these rags.”
Lizzie thought Imogen’s blue gown was quite lovely, in fact. A bit plain, perhaps, but still perfectly suitable. “I’m certain there isn’t time for a trousseau,” she said, conscious of the fact that the seams of Imogen’s gown had had to be let out twice already to accommodate her swelling bust. ThankGodthe fashion for high-waisted gowns had persisted, else her condition would soon be obvious to all, and it was imperative that she was married before itwas. “Perhaps a wedding dress would be manageable.”
“Why, of course I must have a wedding dress! Oh, Lizzie, can we go tomorrow? I should like to visit Bond Street—everyoneknows that’s where the best gowns are to be had.”
Lizzie certainly had not known. And how was she to pay for such things, besides? “Well, I—”
“Oh,pleasesay we can,” Imogen pleaded prettily as she sank into her seat, opposite Georgie, who had already dug into the roast chicken that had been placed upon his plate.
