Page 110 of Madcap with a Marquess
She smiled. She liked that.
“I love you, too.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “My very dear and not very proper Perty.”
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Epilogue – Derek
“Icannotbegintoconvey how glad I am you have wised up and decided to partner with me and Rafe in this project,” Derek, the Marquess of Dunmore, said from his relaxed position in one of the leather armchairs in Rupert’s London townhouse study. He swirled his glass of scotch and cocked his head. “What caused said change of heart? Did the plight of the poor orphaned children on the streets of London finally get to your conscience?”
A small smile slowly spread across his friend’s face.
Bang!
Derek’s head whipped around to catch the study door ricocheting off the wall, a delicate feminine hand catching it just before it smashed into the owner’s face.
“Oh, dear me. I was a tad overenthusiastic opening that wasn’t I? Apologies, husband, but I just had to see y—” Her gaze landed on Derek, and her words trailed off.
Satan’s teeth, she was a walking cannonball.
She lowered into a curtsy, dropping her gaze as she held out her blindingly bright yellow skirts. “My apologies, Lord Dunmore. I did not mean to intrude on your business with Lord Rutledge,” she said softly to the floor. She snuck a glance at her husband, eyes dancing.
Rupert shook his head, and his gaze rolled heavenward, though his lips curved. “Do not even bother pretending, Franny.”
She pouted, planting her hands on her hips. “I can be proper. That was an enviable curtsy!” She spun to face Derek. “Was it not enviable, Lord Dunmore?”
Derek glanced at Rupert, eyes wide. What on earth was he supposed to say to the chit? Rupert leaned back on his desk, his face splitting into a grin, expression clear as day.You’re on your own, mate.
Derek scowled. He threw back his scotch and remained silent. Ha.
Rupert grinned wider.
His scowl slipped.
“Youarea grumpy one, aren’t you? When you’re not deploying your roguish charm,” Lady Rutledge said, tapping her lip as she studied him. She clapped her hands. “I think we shall be the best of friends!”
His jaw went slack. Wait… What? Derek cleared his throat and stood. “I think it best I be on my way.” He turned toward his friend. “I am glad you are joining us, Rutledge.” He faced Lady Rutledge. “Lady Rutledge, a—”
“Oh! Oh!” Lady Rutledge exclaimed, bouncing on her feet.
Derek took a hurried step backward, his calves bumping into the armchair. Christ, this woman was alarming.
She turned toward Rupert. “You two have been discussing the foundling home? How exciting! It is such a commendable cause; those poor children are so blessed to have you staunch advocates to protect them.”
Ah. So,shewas the reason for the change. He supposed he couldn’t completely dislike her in that case. He didn’t normally like women. They served a purpose. To service him. And that was all. He grunted. That was as close to appreciation as she was going to get from him.
She tilted her head. And then proceeded to walk up to him and pat his chest. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he threw a startled look at Rupert, his entire body turning to stone.
“Hmm,” she muttered, feeling over his heart. “Rupert! There is quite clearly a heartbeat. I wasn’t so sure, but he is definitely flesh and blood.”
Rupert snickered. Snickered! This entire meeting had been shocking—staggering, more like it. His serious, formal friend was completely gone. What alternate universe had Derek fallen into? As if the absurdity wasn’t enough, a thudding sound erupted from the hall, and a field spaniel puppy came charging into the study, heading straight for Lady Rutledge.
She bent down and scooped up the puppy, nuzzling noses with the thing. Lady Rutledge grinned at Derek over the mutt’s furious tongue-licking. “I didn’t doubt for a moment you had a heart, considering you save orphans and street urchins.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “I even wager you have a larger heart than most.”
A cold sweat broke out on his brow.
Must. Leave.
“Pardon, Lady Rutledge,” he bit out. “I must make my exit, and you are standing in my way.” That was as polite as he could manage. A man could only put up with so much. Rupert should control his wife—artillery—powder keg—whatever she was.
