Page 19 of The Baron's Return
“After all the times I called him a fool for wanting to wed Miss Mary Trenton, I can just imagine what he’d say.” His cynicism had caused him to be less than kind to his friend. “I do wish them well together. I hope he believes that.”
“I’m sure he does. And he would wish the same for you. Although he might give you a hard time about it.”
“One I’d very much deserve,” Cranston said. “I hope Abigail and I can come to an agreement and make a happy household for our daughter. Or at the very least, one filled with little strife.” His mouth twisted. “Gemma wants us to be a ‘real family,’ whatever that means. Hopefully it will be enough that we live together under the same roof and don’t argue.”
John shook his head. “Eight years old and already making demands. You’re going to have to be careful not to spoil her.”
Cranston raised a brow. “Are you telling me you don’t plan to spoil the child your wife is currently carrying?”
John winced. “We both might be doomed.”
They laughed, and much to his surprise, Cranston realized he was looking forward to the future. The thought sobered him a little. He needed to be careful or he would be in danger of repeating past mistakes. He needed to guard his heart because recent events had made it clear that a small part of the foolish, optimistic youth he’d been all those years ago was still buried somewhere deep within. He’d have to make sure that part of himself stayed buried.
John glanced toward the door of the room and leaned toward him. His voice was low when he spoke. “Holbrook just arrived. Should we introduce ourselves?”
Cranston recoiled at the thought. He could still remember the way the man had looked down at Abigail while taking his leave that day. The way she’d placed a hand on his arm and smiled up at him.
They’d both seen the man before, but they’d never been introduced. Perhaps it was best to keep it that way.
“The decision has been made for us,” John said. “He’s heading this way.”
Cranston steeled himself for whatever would happen. And he refused to consider that his newfound hostility toward the viscount, who was much younger and far more handsome than the previous Viscount Holbrook, had anything to do with jealousy.
Holbrook reached their table and bowed. “Cranston, Lowenbrock. I know we haven’t been formally introduced, but may I join you?”
John waved toward the free chair that was next to his.
There was something about the set of the man’s jaw that had Cranston’s instincts on high alert. He knew without being told that Holbrook was here to discuss his upcoming marriage to Abigail.
Cranston gave John a subtle look that his friend easily deciphered.
John stood. “If the two of you will excuse me for a moment, I see someone I need to speak to. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
His friend had only taken two steps when Holbrook got straight to the reason for seeking him out. “The dowager viscountess informed me of your upcoming nuptials.”
Cranston raised a brow. “I take it you don’t approve?”
Holbrook folded his arms across his chest, his brows drawing together in a scowl. “My great-uncle was less than kind toward her. As I am his heir, she is currently under my protection. I would like to know your motives for moving so quickly. It was my understanding that you have no problem bedding every widow in London. I never expected to hear you’d actually propose marriage to Abigail.”
Cranston’s teeth ground together at the viscount’s use of her Christian name. “We were acquainted many years ago. I even courted her then, though she did not accept my suit. I believe she came to realize that was a mistake.”
Holbrook made a soft sound of disgust. “I’ve met Gemma. Knowing what I do about your reputation, I can well imagine how that courtship went.” He leaned forward, his hands settling on his knees. “If you hurt her again, I’ll call you out.”
Every muscle in Cranston’s body tightened, and he had to take a deep breath to hold back the haze of anger that threatened to cloud his vision. The nerve of the man was galling. If Holbrook had hoped to keep Abigail for himself, he’d be doomed to disappointment because Cranston was never letting her go again.
“If you must know, it was the opposite. I was the young fool who wanted nothing more than to marry her, but she cast me aside to marry someone else.” He kept his tone even, but the threat was clear in his voice. “That won’t be happening again. So if you were planning to keep her for yourself, you should know that I’m very good with both a pistol and a blade. If you’re so eager to meet your death, just name your weapon and your second.”
Holbrook leaned back in his chair again and just stared at him. Cranston refused to be the first to look away.
Finally, one corner of the man’s mouth lifted. “Fair enough. I just needed to ascertain she wasn’t rushing into another marriage that would end unhappily… both for her and for Gemma. As she is the Dowager Viscountess Holbrook, I would have ensured her comfort. But I’m glad to see you mean to be there for her now. And for Gemma as well.”
Holbrook leaned forward and offered his hand. Despite wanting to plant his fist in the man’s face, Cranston shook it.
Holbrook stood and strode from the morning room. Cranston stared after him, a sense of unease settling over him. Where the foreboding came from, he couldn’t say. It seemed that Abigail hadn’t been lying to him about Holbrook’s motives. Unless Cranston’s instincts were completely wrong, he sensed there would be no interference from the viscount.
And the fact that her father hadn’t been in London this past season meant there would be no interference from the Earl of Hargrove. Rumor had it that the man was ill, possibly even on his deathbed. Abigail’s father had already meddled once, and Cranston had no doubt he would have continued to do everything in his power to ensure that Cranston never married his daughter.
Cranston made a mental note to do some more digging into the past. Because despite his hardened heart telling him that Abigail wasn’t to be trusted, he had a sense that there was more to this situation. His instincts about people were rarely wrong, with Abigail being the only exception to that rule.
