The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(17)

“Very good, my lord.” Mr. Watson pulled his forelock. “I’ll have a room made up straightaway.”

Con wandered into the common room that stood off to the side of the hall, preparing to partake in the house’s ale while he waited for his chamber to be readied.

“Kenilworth.” Lord Gerald Heathcote gave Con a toothy smile. “The ale here is excellent.” The man shoved a chair out from the table with his foot. “Join me.”

“So I have heard.” He glanced around and not seeing Braxton, joined Lord Gerald. “I believe I will. It’s been an interesting morning.” And evening, yet what else was he to say? “What brings you to the country?”

“Boxing match, don’t you know.” He held up two fingers to the barkeeper. “Decided to come down early. Inns fill up quickly for that type of thing. Braxton heard me tell another fellow and said he’d come as well.”

How could Con have been such a dunderhead? Despite what he said earlier, he had been planning to attend the match himself. “I’d forgotten.”

“Uh, about that.” Lord Gerald lowered his voice to a whisper. “What is Lady Charlotte doing here? Braxton thinks you must be eloping, but I told him you was going the wrong way to Gretna Green.” Lord Gerald frowned. “Can’t think why you’d have to elope in the first place. You’re eligible enough for any lady.” Two mugs were set before them. Lord Gerald took a long draw on his. “Didn’t know you was looking for a wife. Would have suggested my sister. The eldest one. The other one’s not out yet. Come to think of it, don’t remember seeing you at any of the balls and such this Season.”

Because I haven’t been at any of the entertainments, and I have been actively not looking for a wife. The Fates have a strange way of interfering with one’s plans.

He would have to remember to tell Charlotte—he supposed he no longer needed to use her title—the bouncer he was about to tell his acquaintance. “Lady Charlotte and I recently formed an understanding. I decided it was as good a time as any for her to meet my mother. During the journey down we had a slight accident with the phaeton. No one was harmed. However, she and I became a bit rumpled. Naturally, Lady Bellamny was accompanying us in her coach.” He had to think back to what had been said when Lady Bellamny appeared. Thank the Lord, Braxton had not heard Con and Charlotte bickering.

“Never thought I’d see you leg-shackled so soon.” A large smile spread over Lord Gerald’s face. “Nevertheless, I’m happy to wish you happy. But why the rush down, when you could have attended the match?”

“We wanted to inform my mother of our decision to wed.” Con had no doubt that once Mama and Worthington heard that Con and Charlotte had been seen by Braxton, Charlotte would be made to go through with the wedding.

“Thought Worthington was out of Town?” Lord Gerald asked, confused. Then again, he had always been a bit buffle-headed.

“I spoke with him just before he left. However, as I said, my mother needed to be informed before an announcement was made.”

“Well, then.” Lord Gerald finished off his ale and rose. “I’ll just toddle off and tell Braxton he was out.” The man gave Con a jaunty bow. “Very glad we had this talk. Braxton owes me a pony now. Told him Lady Charlotte wouldn’t have just run off. Not the type, if you know what I mean.” Lord Gerald suddenly looked anxious, and his mouth started to open and close. “My apologies. Not what I meant to say a’tall. Naturally, you’d know she isn’t that type. Wouldn’t be marrying her if she was.”

“Naturally.” Con’s hand clenched. Given any reason at all, he’d gladly plant Braxton a facer. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help the situation. The man was as poisonous as a viper. He would ruin Charlotte and Con simply for his own amusement.

“I’ll just be off.”

Con stifled a sigh of relief. At least Lord Gerald had swallowed the story.

A few moments after Con finished his ale, the landlord appeared to take him to his chamber.

He stripped and poured warm water into a bowl, then washed as best he could before shaving. There was nothing to be done about his crushed cravat or shirt points, but Cunningham would be at the manor by this evening.

Con wondered if Charlotte had written to her maid, and if he should tell her he took care of the matter for her. Or perhaps, considering she didn’t seem to wish to have anything to do with him, he would be better off keeping his own counsel.

Until she understood how precarious both their positions were, that was going to be a problem. He had never wanted a reluctant bride. One of the reasons he eschewed balls and other tonish events where young ladies would be present was to avoid just this type of situation, betrothed to a lady due to forces beyond his control.

Good God. What a muddle. Wellington had married from a sense of obligation, and look how badly that had turned out. Con had even less of a choice in the matter than the general. If only he had not got lost. If only he’d been able to get her back to Town before dawn, this problem could have been avoided. Or if she had not formed a completely unreasonable opinion of him that was as ridiculous as it was insulting.

What was the world coming to when the mere possession of a mistress caused a man to be accused of abuse? Not only that, but it was not true. He always treated his ladybirds with generosity and kindness. None of them had ever complained. It was the nature of the business that, eventually, one moved on.