Page 129 of The Lyon Whisperer
“And let’s not forget the aim of this night—to help you forge an alliance with Selbie. How do you think that went, Lord Culver?”
Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Funny you should ask.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the earl hissed.
“Selbie was never going to back legislation seeking to aid common soldiers, and I think you knew that. A—He doesn’t give a bloody damn about their plight, and B—Because of you.”
The earl went utterly still.
“What is between the two of you and how is my wife involved?”
His mouth worked, but no words came for several seconds. Finally he choked out, “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
Chase made a concerted effort to rein in his temper.
“I give you credit for discernment. Lord Selbie will never support social reform, and it’s best you know that going in. What’s more, I suggest you refrain from throwing down the gauntlet like you did tonight when, instead accepting the route of diplomacy I paved for you, you chose to antagonize the marquis by flouting his stated opinion regarding a damned book.”
Chase glared at Fallsgate. “I chose to defend mywife, something you have neglected in favor of tearing her down at every opportunity.”
He reacted as if Chase had backhanded him. “How dare you? I have devoted my entire life to keeping her safe. I thought you, of all people, could take care of her, keep her in line, protect her from her own wild tendencies—”
Chase threw up his hands. “Wild? You call reading romantic fiction, rescuing puppies and kittens, and learning the names of each and every member of her household staffwild?I call it something else entirely. Sir, thanks to you she has no sense of how utterly rare and precious she is. She longs for your approval, but you won’t give it. She craves the least scrap of information about her mother, but you refuse to—”
“Enough,” he shouted, anger mottling his face. “Do not dare broach her mother with me. You have no idea what I’d do for the sake of my daughter, and, I might add, you have no room to talk. It’s all well and good to judge me for my treatment ofmydaughter,myflesh and blood who you now blithely claim asyour wife.
“But what of your treatment of her? You think indulging her will do her any good when, by doing so, you risk her entire future, as well as that of any child you may be blessed to have together? Must I remind you if you fail at your end of the bargain—six months, you had, if you recall—Culver’s estate is likely never to recover from the financial strain?”
Chase glowered. “You bastard. You’re lucky I don’t tell her about the bet you made, leveraging her into a marriage not of her choosing, then holding financial ruin over her head if she doesn’t meet your exacting standards.”
Abruptly the fight seemed to go out of the earl. “You could tell her. I can’t stop you, can I?
“Oh, but you do not understand, Culver. One day, if you’re lucky, you will have a daughter of your own. A precious raven-haired, blue-eyed daughter straight from heaven. You’ll see then that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to guarantee her safety.”
Chase shook his head, frustrated beyond measure. “Is that what you call how you’ve raised her? Keeping her safe?”
The earl’s shoulders slumped. “I’m going home.” He turned for his carriage without another word.
Chase watched the carriage until it disappeared from sight. Finally, he trudged up the broad front steps. He pushed open the door which stood ajar and glared at the waiting footman.
James was his name. Thanks to his wife, he’d taken to learning the names of every member of his household staff.
Never had he felt like more of a phony.
“What are you doing here, James?” he growled.
The man flinched at Chase’s brusque tone, but answered with simple dignity nonetheless. “Lady Culver instructed me to wait here in case you needed anything, milord.”
Of course, she had. He glanced up the stairs, toward her bedchamber, where he imagined she awaited him, anxious to discuss the evening. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, wrap her in his arms and confess all, about the bet, about the earl’s ludicrous demands, about how perfect she was, and how she did not need to change one bloody thing.
But he couldn’t do any of that. Not because she would hate him, although she likely would, but because it would hurt her too badly. It would be the final proof she needed that her father found her lacking.
Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he started for his den. For the first time in his life he understood what it was to need a drink. Probably several.
Practically the momentafter Sally helped her out of her evening gown, Amelia hastened her maid off to bed as she kept one ear pricked for the sound of Chase’s footfalls in the corridor.
She wanted to talk with him in the worst way—to gauge his reaction to the dinner party she had thrown for him.
In other words, how badly had it gone, by his estimation?
