In his distress, Sir Hugh did not notice the menace in the earl’s sudden stillness, but the marquis did.
“Tolly…” he began warningly.
Weston raised his hand. “No, let him continue, Harry. I would hear what words of wisdom our young friend has to impart to me.”
Sir Hugh sputtered under the gaze of the mocking gray eyes. “ ’Pon my word, Weston, you’re jesting with me! You can’t be serious — a man of your consequence can’t marry some penniless chit from the colonies, no matter how badly he wants to bed her. Offer her your house in Kensington if you’re finished with your bit of muslin, but for God’s sake, man, don’t waste your name on an undesirable!”
Weston’s eyes never left those of the gently perspiring baronet before him. No expression flickered across his impassive face, but Rosse noticed that the long fingers clasped about the stem of the glass he held were white with tension. “Have a care, Tolly, you speak of my future bride,” Weston replied in a soft, dangerous voice.
Rosse moved uneasily in his chair. Although he had known both men for several years, he did not believe a long acquaintance would stop the situation from escalating into a challenge if Tolly continued along his present path. Rosse decided to remedy the situation as best he could.
“I’m sure Tolly didn’t mean to interfere, Noble. He’s as surprised as I am by your announcement — you haven’t wasted any time picking out a suitable countess. I know you’re the master of efficiency and organization, but don’t you think that you need more than two visits to acquaint yourself properly with the young woman?”
“I do not.”
The look Weston shot his old friend was fraught with warning, but Harry grinned in response. “And then there is your choice of bride — forgive me, old man, but did you not just two evenings ago specifically detail the list of attributes your wife would possess?”
“I did.” Rosse was relieved to see one side of Weston’s mouth quirk up as he answered. Only Harry was granted permission to tease and challenge the earl, owing largely to the fact that the two had grown up together on estates that touched. That, and the unspeakable event five years past that had drawn them closer than most brothers.
“I’ll admit Miss Leigh possesses a particularly luscious body”—Sir Hugh ignored Weston’s warning frown—“but she can hardly be considered countess material. Surely there must be some other chit — a nobly born chit — who would suit you better.”
Ever the peacemaker, Rosse hurried to distract his friend. “I like her, Tolly. She’s a bit of an Original, but I’m sure Noble knows what he’s about.”
Weston gave his friend a slight bow of acknowledgment.
Sir Hugh fiddled with the ribbon of his quizzing glass and appeared to be lost in thought. His eyes were bright, almost feverish, as he watched the earl closely. “Why her?” he asked suddenly. “You’ve only seen her twice — why the Amazon?”
Weston gazed down at the brandy he was absentmindedly swirling. “Any man with an intelligent and well-ordered mind would be able to choose a bride upon the first meeting, and as I pride myself on the latter, if not the former, I did not find it a difficult situation to look over the available crop and make a rational choice.”
“You’re aware that she is the one who set fire to the Lincolns’ house the other night? From what Lady Dell says, your intended is not the most adept of creatures,” Sir Hugh pointed out.
The other side of Weston’s mouth curled as he recalled the waltz they had shared. She had tried her best but had succeeded in stepping on his feet more than the ballroom floor. Still, he had felt in her a hidden innate grace, and noted that when she was not self-aware, she was as lithe and graceful as a swan. And then, of course, there was the warmth she generated, warmth that fingered its way through all the layers of ice that coated his soul, leaving him with a gentle glow deep within.
“We’ll rub along well together.”
“What about…” Rosse hesitated to speak on the subject but was worried that his friend was making an uncharacteristically hasty decision. “What about Nick?”
Noble raised one sable brow. “What about him?”
Rosse glanced at Tolliver, then back to his friend. “Will you trust her with him?”
“I believe she will be very good for him. Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust her with my son?”
Rosse considered his brandy. “No, of course not. I had just wondered whether you would be…comfortable allowing her to have access to him after what the poor lad has gone through, losing his mother when he was just a year old, and then with…”
An icy wind howled inside of Weston. “Elizabeth?”
Rosse nodded, a frown creasing his brow. “You swore you’d never trust him with any woman again. I find it hard to believe that after only two meetings, you have such a high estimation of Miss Leigh that you are willing to entrust your son’s care to her.”
“She will be an excellent stepmother,” Weston replied, the set of his jaw belying the stubbornness behind the statement.
Rosse leaned forward. “Noble, what is it about her that is making you act so…so spontaneously?”
“I never act spontaneously, Harry, you know that. As I told Tolly, I am a man of order and control. I viewed the available stock, I took into consideration a number of desirable characteristics such as temperament, intelligence, and pliability, and I winnowed down the choices to one obvious woman. There was no spontaneity involved.”
Rosse stared at him for a minute, then stood as Weston rose and offered his hand. “I do hope you’ll allow me to be your groomsman?”
“Of course. I will procure the special license in the morning, then acquaint the bride and her family of her good fortune.”
The marquis gave a sharp bark of laughter that he quickly converted into a cough. “You haven’t yet offered for her?”
Weston brushed an infinitesimal bit of dirt from his immaculate sleeve. Sir Hugh hesitated for a moment, then joined the duo and strolled with them out the door and down the stairs leading to the hall.
“No, I haven’t. Is there a reason why you believe I should worry?” Weston drawled the question in a voice laden with indifference.
“None, other than the fact that she might reject you,” Rosse responded. “The gossip about Elizabeth’s death has taken the ton by storm, Noble — already you’ve been cut by a number of prominent men. Even you have to admit that your reputation is a daunting obstacle. The Amazon’s uncle might refuse to allow you to pay your addresses.”
The Black Earl shot his friend a disbelieving look as he accepted his cloak, hat, and walking stick, then stepped out the front door. “I care little for what the ton thinks of me, as you well know. They cannot harm me, so let them say what they will. As for the other, I doubt if Collins will refuse the marriage settlement I am prepared to make.”
“For the Amazon,” Sir Hugh said, his voice thick with emotion.
The three men paused outside. Noble rubbed his hands to warm them as he looked up at a waxing moon. “For, as you say, the Amazon.”
Rosse looked curiously at the baronet’s face, wondering briefly at the expression behind the pale blue hooded eyes, then turned and walked with Weston to the earl’s carriage. With one hand braced on the side, he leaned in through the open door. “Does Tolly know it is you saving him from bankruptcy?”
“No, and I’d rather it stayed that way. If he found out it was I offering more than the land was worth, it would cause him no little embarrassment.”
Rosse considered the Black Earl for a moment. “Saving his neck by keeping the bank from foreclosing goes beyond friendship, Noble.”