“—to attempt to seduce my wife, whereupon I’ll burst onto the scene and strangle the bastard on the spot.”
A slow smile stole over Rosse’s face. “And your wife?”
“Will believe I am still angry with her over this afternoon’s debacle.”
“A little hard on her, isn’t it?”
Noble tugged at his lower lip, then sighed. “It can’t be helped, and it will only be for a short duration. It is important that McGregor believe we are at odds, the better for him to succeed with Gillian.”
The marquis warmed his brandy between his palms and inhaled the aroma. “Do you trust her?”
Noble paused in his circuit around the desk. “To not betray me with McGregor? Yes, I do. I’ve—” He picked up the paintbrush on his desk, his fingers running over the softness of the sable brush. As soft as that was, Gillian’s hair was a thousand times silkier. “I’ve treated her poorly, Harry, and I intend to make up for that, but first I must deal with these incessant threats and attempts to drive us apart.”
“I wondered if you had seen that,” Rosse commented mildly.
“Seen what?”
“That the nature of the threats had changed from blackmailing you to promising harm to your wife and now to a blatant attempt to instill distrust and discord in your marriage.”
Noble sat down suddenly. “McGregor’s mad.”
“Possibly. But I think it goes further than just McGregor’s attempts at obtaining justice for Elizabeth. This strikes me as an attempt to destroy you personally as well as socially.”
“Personally?”
“I think, my friend,” Rosse said as he stood and strolled to the window to look at the street beyond, “I think it is a good idea that you have sought additional protection. I fear you are going to need it.”
What Rosse hadn’t told his friend was that he himself had hired two more men with the sole purpose of following the earl and his countess. One of the men was even now in attendance at Lady Gayfield’s, in the guise of a hired footman. The other had been given an invitation to the rout, procured at no small social cost to Rosse, and was in attendance at the party. Rosse went over his plans again, satisfied he had done all he could to protect his friend and his lovely lady.
“Lord Rosse?” That lady was now sitting across from him in his carriage and frowning in a most annoyed fashion.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Weston, I was pondering a problem. What was your question?”
“About Noble and this silly duel…”
Rosse blinked at her in surprise. “You know about the duel?”
“Of course I know about the duel; I was there when Noble challenged poor Lord Carlisle.”
“Ah. Well…ah…I don’t believe it’s customary to acquaint the wife of the duelist with the facts, my lady.”
“Regardless, you will. You are Noble’s second, are you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Excellent. Then you must help me stop it.”
“I understood that most ladies find it pleasing for their honor to be the subject of a duel.”
“I am not most ladies, my lord.”
No, she certainly was not. Rosse couldn’t help but grin at her as she continued.
“I do not find the idea of my husband allowing another man to aim a pistol at him and fire a pleasant one, my lord, and I intend to move heaven and earth to make sure that he will not be in that position. Where and when is the duel to be held?”
Rosse shook his head. “I have not yet met with Lord Carlisle, my lady.”
“But it will be you who suggests a meeting time and place, will it not?”
“As Noble’s second, my first duty is to attempt to resolve the situation by means other than dueling.”
Gillian snorted a most unladylike snort. “You know Noble, and I assume you know Lord Carlisle — two more pigheaded, obstinate, proud men I’ve never seen. Neither will back down.”
“I am in agreement with you there, my lady. Assuming negotiations for a peaceable end to the challenge fails, then yes, I will suggest a meeting time and place.”
Gillian chewed on her lower lip as she pondered the situation, her brow furrowed in thought, her fingers absently twisting the beads on her midnight blue overdress. Suddenly her brow cleared, her eyes sparkled, and her mouth formed a charming smile.
Rosse was struck once again with a sense of rightness that she and Noble should have found each other. If only they could see how much love they had to offer each other, he thought, and voiced the question that rose to his tongue. “You have thought of something to put an end to the duel, my lady?”
“Yes, my lord, I do believe I have.”
“And that is…?”
“Better left unsaid to you, Lord Rosse, lest at a later time my lord accuse you of having a hand in it.”
Rosse spent the better part of the journey to Berkeley Square trying to convince her of the folly of whatever plan she had dreamed up, but it was to no avail.
Gillian needed desperately to see Charlotte. As the only person who knew she was investigating Noble’s past, Charlotte’s advice and help was invaluable, especially now when she had two immediate problems facing her — to find out what Lord Carlisle wanted, and to ensure that the duel did not take place. Since both items revolved around the same man, and threatened the health and happiness of her beloved husband, she felt herself perfectly within her rights to go against that husband’s wishes and meet with the very man he had ordered her to avoid. She wasn’t a fool, however, and knew that any meeting with Carlisle must take place in the presence of a witness to protect her reputation with both society and her husband. To be truthful, she didn’t care a fig about the former, but the latter concerned her greatly.
Gillian greeted Lady Gayfield, who was delighted to have her present and asked whether the earl would be joining her soon. Lady Gayfield was newly married, and nervous about this, her second ton party. She was thrilled, however, that the two most talked-about members of society were going to be present.
“Lord Weston will be here,” Gillian told the viscountess. “He had an important engagement, but he promised he’d be along later.”
Lady Gayfield, feeling one Weston was good, but two would be better, especially if they could be counted on to do something scandalous like embrace publicly, was perfectly happy to wait until all hours for the arrival of the earl.
“May I be allowed to say how much I admired your actions the past evening?”
“My actions?” Gillian looked down at her faintly blue palms.
“Your…your affectionate embrace. It was so very romantic, so full of passion and l’amour! If the mood were to overtake you again this evening, and you wished to embrace your husband in such a manner, I want you to feel free to do so. You are among friends, Lady Weston, friends who would not censure you for feeling what is right and natural for your husband.”
Gillian tried not to let the corners of her mouth twitch. “Thank you, Lady Gayfield. Should I be overcome with emotion and find it necessary to kiss my husband, I will do so secure in the knowledge that I have your full approval.”
“Indeed,” Lady Gayfield smiled delightedly and pressed Gillian’s hand, grand visions of the gossip that would fly from her party the following day should the Westones behave with suitably improper behavior, “indeed, I would not mind at all were you to give free rein to your emotions.”
Gillian found the idea of the ton holding its collective breath waiting for her and Noble to display their affection very amusing.
“You are, after all, newly wed.”
“Very true, and while I appreciate the offer to heed the call of our passions and desires, I believe Lord Weston will draw the line at actually bedding me in front of your guests.”