Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage (28 page)

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Authors: Valerie Bowman

Tags: #Historical Romance

BOOK: Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage
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Right. Love had no place in his world. But he’d bloody well gone and fallen in it regardless. Despite his vows and best intentions, he’d fallen in love with Kate. And she’d rejected him. And it hurt, damn it. Her standing there telling him she couldn’t allow him to ruin himself over her. That had been nothing more than an excuse. If she loved him, truly loved him, she wouldn’t let anything stand in the way. Just like he wouldn’t. What did a reputation matter when compared to true love? Bah. He couldn’t even listen to his own thoughts anymore. He was turning into a blasted bad poet. Bloody hell. He’d thought he’d found the one woman he could finally love, and instead, he’d found the second woman who could mortally wound him. And that sort of loss of control he could not allow. He curled his hand around the bottle of gin and squeezed.

Sloshing the contents of the bottle into his glass, he tossed back a second drink and then a third. It all began to make a bit more sense. Very well. He’d lost his head for a time. But just like anything else, reason and logic could easily overcome it. And that’s exactly what he intended to do. Reason through it. And reason told him that not only was he to stop loving Kate immediately, he would never open himself up to that sort of pain again. His drunken brain finally allowed him to admit the truth. It began and ended with his mother. Deep down, he’d always known that. He’d lived his entire life with the pain of losing the only woman he ever loved. And now he’d lost the second one. It was over. Kate couldn’t hurt him any more than she already had. He’d already lost her.

And now he would steel his heart against the smallest bit of weakness, the tiniest inclination to fall in love again. Done. Over with. Finished.

And he’d ensure all of it. Tomorrow.

Tonight? Tonight, he was going to drink.

The door to the tavern opened. The patrons’ heads swiveled to stare at the two fine gentlemen who’d just entered. The tall men strolled leisurely through the gin-drinking set until they happened upon James at the back of the room.

Ah, right on time. His companions had made it. Who better to drink with?

Jordan Holloway whistled. “Now this I truly had to see to believe. Tying one on, Medford? What has the world come to?”

“Shut up and have a drink,” James replied, scraping the bottle across the wooden table toward his friends.

“And in a seedy tavern of all places.” Colton glanced around the public house. “Why aren’t you at the club drinking properly?” He gestured toward James. “Instead of sitting here, at a dirty table, with your cravat half untied, your hair a complete mess, a smudge of dirt on your shirt, and … is that a blackened eye? What the hell happened to you?”

James growled. “I don’t want the patrons of Brooks’s to see me like this. Bloody snobs, the lot of them. And as for the eye, some bloke said something I didn’t particularly agree with earlier.”

“Fighting in a public tavern, Medford? Really?” Ashbourne shook his head while obviously trying to hold back his laughter.

James narrowed his eyes on the earl. “Don’t give me another reason for a fight.”

Ashbourne held up both hands in a conciliatory manner. “Don’t think I—” He looked twice. “Holy God, man. Are you drinking gin?”

“Yes,” James replied, slurring the word a bit. “And I intend to drink more gin and more after that. Now sit down. I summoned you to drink with me, not to judge me.”

Colton and Ashbourne exchanged knowing looks, pulled out two dirty stools, and took their seats.

Ashbourne’s grin spread across his entire face. “You’ve summoned the right chaps. Far be it from me to argue with you when you’re in one of your moods, Medford. Tell us, did you find the duchess?”

“Don’t call her that,” James snapped, frowning at them.

Ashbourne shook his head. “Oh no, Medford, please don’t tell me you’re an angry drunk. And here all this time I’d pegged you for a jolly one. It’s ever so much more endearing to be jolly … like me.”

James grunted. “Yes, I saw her.”

“And?” Colton arched a brow.

“And she refused me.” James tossed back another shot of gin.

Another whistle from Ashbourne. “Did she now?”

“Do you think I would make that up?” James spat.

“Look on the bright side, man,” Ashbourne replied. “You won’t have to be leg-shackled. Besides, not quite the best form to ask a new widow to marry you. If you two weren’t already courting scandal, God knows you’d be run out of town after a fast marriage. She’s supposed to still be in mourning.”

James lunged out of his seat at Ashbourne. Colton stood up quickly and held him back. “Now, now, now. No need to take a swing at the bloke,” Colton said, ensuring that James grudgingly sat back down.

Ashbourne snorted. “Right. You don’t want your other eye blackened.”

James merely growled at him.

“You can hardly be angry, Medford,” Colton continued. “It’s not even as if she’s the first lady you asked to marry you.”

James propped his elbow on the table, letting his fingers weave through his hair. “This is completely different.”

Ashbourne and Colton exchanged glances again.

“Hand me the bottle.” James reached across the table for the gin.

“Hold on,” Ashbourne said. James watched while he and Colton both received their own dirty glasses from one of the barmaids and tipped the bottle into their own cups.

Ashbourne raised his glass. “If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it properly,” he said, tipping back his drink. “Let’s go.”

*   *   *

Hours later, with James passed out on the table, Colton and Ashbourne stood up, tossed an indecent number of coins on the table, and each took one of Medford’s arms. They pulled their friend’s limp body and hefted him up to rest on their shoulders.

Ashbourne shook his head. “And to think of all the years we’ve tried to get the good viscount to relax and have a good time.”

Colton nodded over Medford’s head. “Seems he learned a bit too well.”

Ashbourne flashed a grin. “He always was a perfect student.”

“Too good,” Colton agreed, also grinning. “But of course, tonight he learned from the very best tutors.” He hefted Medford up again. “Let’s get him home.”

Sticking his hat on his head and wrapping his cloak loosely around his shoulders, they pulled him out into the street where they maneuvered him into Colton’s waiting coach. “I’ll take him to my house. Keep an eye on him. God knows the man’s probably never suffered the aftereffects of a night of drinking. Things may not be good in the morning.”

“You know what we must do, don’t you?” Ashbourne said, climbing into the coach with his friend.

“What’s that?” Colton replied.

They propped Medford in the corner where his chin rested on his chest. Ashbourne leaned against the opposite seat. “This bloke here has done us both a good turn when we were in similar pitiful circumstances.”

Colton arched a brow. “You mean being in love?”

“Quite right,” Ashbourne replied, leaning back against the seat, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

Colton shrugged. “So?”

“So, it’s our turn, Colton. We owe him one. It’s our duty to assist the poor sop.”

 

CHAPTER 40

 

When James awoke the next morning, the bed was turning in sickening circles. He cracked open one eye and surveyed his surroundings. His stomach lurched. He swallowed. Correction. It wasn’t the bed. The
room
was turning in sickening circles. He glanced around. A room he didn’t recognize. He struggled to sit up and groaned, pushing a hand to his pounding forehead. He pulled himself upright against the pillows and grasped his pulsing head in his hands.

Where the hell was he? What had he done last night? His mind traced back. Bloody hell. That’s right. Blue ruin. The tavern. Colton and Ashbourne. He must have passed out. He couldn’t remember anything after perhaps the fifth—the sixth, was it?—glass of the stuff. He groaned. Colton or Ashbourne must have taken him home and tossed him into a spare room. Wonderful.

A knock sounded at the door and James winced. “Come in,” he croaked.

The door cracked open and Lily stepped into the room, a bright smile on her face.

Hmm. Apparently, he was at Colton’s house. James glanced down to ensure he was decent. Oh bloody hell. He was still wearing his clothing from last night. Even better.

“Good morning, Medford,” Lily said. “I’ve been waiting to hear you stir.” She held a glass in her hand filled with a yellowish-green substance.

James leaned back against the pillows and pushed a palm to his forehead. “Please lower your voice. What are you doing here?”

Lily laughed and then stopped short to whisper. “What are
you
doing here is the better question. You’re in our house. Devon tells me he and Jordan had to carry you up here last night.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head at James. “What happened to your eye?”

“Long story.”

Lily shook her head again. “I must say I’m a bit shocked actually, Medford. I’ve never seen you so…” She eyed him up and down and gestured to him with her free hand. “Disheveled.”

Without opening his eyes, he groaned. “I’ve never felt like this.”

“Like what?”

“As if an entire orchestra were playing in my head, and I’m about to toss the contents of my—”

“Oh yes, well, as to that.” Lily held out the glass to him. “Devon says to drink this.”

James lifted his head and popped open one eye. He arched a brow and gave the glass a suspicious look. “What is it?”

Lily shrugged. “I have no idea. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to know. But Devon went into the kitchens and mixed it himself. It looks absolutely dreadful and smells worse, I’m afraid, but Devon swears it’ll fix your head.”

“Colton made this? What is he, a bloody apothecary now?”

Lily gave him a stern stare. “Be nice.”

James reluctantly lifted his hand and took the glass. He stared at it. He sniffed it. “It smells worse than I feel.”

Lily cracked a smile and plunked her hands on her hips. “That may be true, but do you doubt for a moment that
Devon
knows how to relieve a sick head?”

James growled. “Unfortunately, for me and my palate, I don’t doubt it at all.”

He slowly moved the noxious substance to his lips, took a sip, and shuddered. “Good God. I refuse to drink that.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Lily said, pointing one finger in the air and wagging it. “Devon said to pinch your nose and down it quickly all at once. Don’t taste it. Much easier, according to him.”

James narrowed his eyes on her. “Thank you for telling me that
after
I’ve tasted it.”

She affected a curtsy. “My pleasure.”

James shuddered. Might as well get this unpleasant task over with. Colton of all people had probably invented this stuff. The man was a drunkard. Pinching his nose, James tossed the entire contents of the glass into the back of his throat. He swallowed, then coughed, and gagged. “Jesus. That was disgusting.”

Lily winced. “Yes. Devon said you’d say that too.”

James shook his head, doing his level best not to gag. He pounded his chest with the side of his fist. “I think I’d rather be sick.”

Lily patted him on the foot through the covers. “It shouldn’t take long to feel better, according to Devon. We’ll have the coach brought round to take you home when you’re ready.” She moved back toward the door. “Just say the word. By the way, it’s nearly noon. Don’t forget that you must get ready for this evening.”

James let his head fall back against the pillows again and shut his eyes. He scowled. “It’s nearly noon? No wonder I never took to drinking. Half the day is gone.” He paused and opened one eye. “Wait. This evening? What’s this evening?”

“Why, Catherine Eversly’s New Year’s masquerade, of course. You cannot miss it. She’ll be devastated if you do.”

James groaned. “I’m not about to go to any—” His voice rose, and he winced. Blast. He’d been too loud. That hurt.

“Oh, you’re coming all right,” Lily replied in her most matter-of-fact voice. “Even if we must march over to your house and drag you there.”

*   *   *

The knock on her bed chamber door made Kate’s stomach clench. She couldn’t open it. What if it was James again? Seeing him yesterday, sending him away, had nearly killed her. She couldn’t do it again. If he were back with a pocketful of outrage, demanding that she marry him, she just might give in and forget her plans to go off alone to the Continent. But she had to be strong, for her sake … and for his.

“Who is it?” she called tentatively.

“It’s Lily and Annie,” came Lily’s voice through the wooden door. “We hope you don’t mind. Lady Catherine let us in.”

Kate closed her eyes briefly and said a prayer of thanks. She hurried to the door and swung it open. She smiled at her friends. Lily and Annie hugged her one after another.

“I was afraid you were…” Kate glanced away. “It doesn’t matter. Come in. Come in.”

Kate stepped back and Annie and Lily moved into the room. “Please, sit, sit.” She gestured to the little seating area in the corner of her room.

“Lord Medford came, didn’t he?” Annie asked, plucking off her gloves and taking a seat in a chair by the window.

Kate nodded. “Yesterday.”

Lily shook her head. She’d remained standing and had moved over to the window, looking out to the street below. “We didn’t tell him you were here, Kate. We promise. I have no idea how he found out.”

Kate nodded. “I know. He told me. Seems he bribed his way through all the hotels in London. And then Lady Catherine paid him a visit.”

“Medford giving bribes?” Annie’s brow was furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Lily turned to face Kate. “He was so upset when he found out you were gone, Kate. Truly. You should have seen him. He raised his voice at me.”

Kate bit her lip. She didn’t want to hear this. She was barely hanging on to her resolve as it was. “I can’t … that is to say, I’d rather not talk about James if that’s all right with you.”

Lily walked over and looped her arm through Kate’s. “Absolutely, we completely understand.”

“Yes, we just came to see how you are doing,” Annie added.

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