Page 99 of Madcap with a Marquess
51
Rupert
London,England
Rupert drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair he was slumped in, staring out into the sea of heads at Grambler’s Gentleman’s club. Looking for two taller-than-average heads of dark hair in particular. He glanced down at his pocket watch. He pressed his lips together and let out a loud breath through his nose. Thirty minutes past their agreed upon time.
Two tall, shadowed figures materialized from the hall that led to the private rooms of the club. Rupert’s body sagged, and his jaw popped open. They were late. Because they’d been with the club’s wenches! How infuriatingly predictable.
They casually ambled up to Rupert, both flushed in the face, a few of Derek’s overlong waves sticking to his skin with sweat. Rupert shook his head and lifted his brows at them.
“Rupe is displeased with us, Derek.”
Derek flashed a smirk. “It appears so, Rafe. He’s looking down his nose at us, even though he’s the one sitting.”
Rafe fell heavily into the chair to Rupert’s right, while Derek took the one to the left. “He always had a knack for looking like the most pompous arse in the room. Like he’d sucked on a lemon.” Rafe grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
Rupert scowled. “I do not look like I’ve sucked on a lemon.”
Derek tossed his head back and forth, as though he was contemplating. Rupert scowled harder, and Derek barked out a laugh. “Perhaps not. But definitely a stick up your arse.”
Rupert looked heavenward.
“You’re right, Derek. It was always his mother who looked like she’d sucked on a lemon.”
Every muscle in Rupert’s body went rigid. He closed his eyes and took a slow, controlled breath. His hand trembled on the chair’s arm. Just hearing the word mother, any reference to her at all, immediately had every part of him locking up tight. Like his body was trying to shut out the betrayal.
“Rupe…”
Rupert’s eyes flashed open at Derek’s questioning tone. Derek’s gaze flitted to Rafe and back to Rupert.
“Is something amiss? When you wrote to meet us here…we assumed you were looking to go wenching.”
Lord, it was like Rupert was destined to always be frowning at his friends. “Why would I want to go wenching? I’m married.”
Rafe snorted.
Derek’s brows lifted to his hairline as he fought back a derisive laugh. “Since when does that mean a man stops wenching?”
Right. These two had very low opinions of the institution of marriage. “Yes, well. I see you beat me to said wenching, even if that were my purpose.”
Rafe’s chin jerked in, and his eyes stretched wide. He turned to Derek, mouth gaping open. “He… He thinks we can only go one round?” Rafe turned back to Rupert, sympathy shining in his grey eyes. “The shagging not going so well with the new wife?” He shook his head sadly at Rupert.
Rupert prayed for patience. “No. The shagging is going just fine. That really isn’t of import. I’m here because—”
“Just fine?” Derek exchanged a glance with Rafe. “This is worse than I thought.”
Rafe nodded succinctly. “And he said shagging’s of no import. You know what that means.”
Derek pursed his lips and eyed Rupert up and down. “I do, Rafe. It means he’s not doing it right.”
“Oh, bloody hell. Will you two stop and let me speak? The shagging ismore than fine. Franny is… Well, you’re not getting any details. But trust me when I say there are absolutely no issues on that front. There are issues on the marriage front—a marriage I am very much happy to be in, with a wife I am very much in love with.”
Rafe and Derek grimaced. Rupert chose to ignore that.
“I am here because our marriage has been…threatened, and Franny’s name is being dragged through the mud. I need to combat it. And I need your help.”
Both men snapped straight.
