After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(79)

She took it. “I’m here in your family home. I should be the one who endeavors to be polite.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Well, then. Don’t get tears on the family carpets. Those could stain, and I would have to throw you out to defend the family honor.”

She looked up at him. There wasn’t so much as a single telltale flicker of amusement on his face to suggest that he was joking. If he were Adrian, he’d have been smiling at that remark.

Camilla blew her nose messily on the handkerchief he had given her and then looked up. “Oh dear. I hope that wasn’t a family handkerchief.”

“Yes.” His voice was very dry. “It was. Non-Hunters who use it perish.”

She looked over at him.

He held up his hands. “Adrian is going to kill me. I’m bad with tears. And comforting. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to comfort you. Why isn’t Adrian here?”

“He’s getting us our annulment.”

“You sound so excited.” He practically rolled his eyes.

Camilla shook her head.

“Ah. You don’t want an annulment.”

“‘Want’ is a complicated word, Captain Hunter.” Her voice was steady now. She folded the handkerchief and placed it on the side-table. “It’s not that simple. What I want is to have not been forced into marriage at gunpoint in the first place.”

“Oh.” He considered this. “Shit.” He winced. “Goddamnit, pardon my—I mean—”

“Don’t worry.” The very crassness of the word emboldened her. She looked over at him and met his eyes. “I am standing in excrement, and I want to not stand in excrement. We have an opportunity to clean the shit off our shoes. What we choose afterward…is complicated. And what I want…? I don’t truly know. But you don’t end up working with someone for a common goal for weeks on end without becoming friends. And when that person is Adrian…” She trailed off.

“Adrian is related to me,” Captain Hunter said matter-of-factly. “You don’t need to tell me how attractive he is. We are similar in countenance, and I have a mirror.”

Camilla glared at him. “I’m beginning to think you are a terrible person.”

That brought out a smile—the first one she had seen. “Oh, absolutely. I am. I gather that when Adrian returns, the two of you will have much to discuss.”

That was an understatement. Camilla’s hands wrung together. “Yes.”

“Well, then. I won’t complicate matters by waiting here with you. My questions are less urgent than the rest of your lives. I’ll leave a note. When he has a chance, tell him I want to speak with him, will you? Don’t tell him I said ‘I told you so.’ He already knows.”





Chapter Twenty-One





The papers were spread across Adrian’s uncle’s desk.

Bishop Denmore nodded as he looked through them. Occasionally, he asked for explanation. Sometimes, he shuffled back through them.

Denmore waved one of the affidavits. “And could you get this Mrs. Martin to testify in person?”

Adrian thought of the angry elderly lady. “I gather she would love nothing more.”

“Hmm.” Another pause as his uncle once again re-read the telegrams. “My God. This is extraordinary.” He looked up and smiled at Adrian. “This is truly extraordinary, Adrian. It’s complete, and taken as a whole, it is utterly damning. You’ve done an amazing job.”

Adrian could not help but feel a flutter of pride in his chest at that. He smiled shyly.

“I knew I was right to believe in you, to leave this in your hands,” his uncle continued. “Thank you, thank you so much. This is wonderful. Lassiter will have to step down now.”

“I’m glad to have helped.” Adrian was going to have to mention the annulment himself, he supposed.

“I don’t know how ever I will thank you for your assistance,” his uncle said.

“Well.” He could not have found a better entry to the subject. “As it turns out—you may recall—a very good way to thank me already exists. You promised to assist me in the matter of the annulment of the marriage that was forced upon me in this matter?”

His uncle looked down at the papers on his desk, not meeting Adrian’s eyes, and Adrian’s heart fell.

Denmore smoothed the papers over, once and then again, before he spoke. “We mustn’t rush into this.”

Adrian wasn’t sure who we was supposed to be.

But his uncle gave a nod, as if he had just convinced himself. “That’s precisely it; we mustn’t rush ourselves. We must consider it very carefully. Mustn’t we?”

“I was forced to join myself for life to a woman I barely knew,” Adrian said, “with a gun pointing at me. I personally feel that rushing is an appropriate response in such circumstances.”

“Quite, quite!” The bishop looked up. “My dear boy! That’s an excellent point. If we had wanted to take action on this front, we should have done so immediately. Now, weeks later…”

Adrian stared at him. “You’re joking. You were the one who counseled me to wait.”

“I would not call it ‘counsel,’” his uncle said thoughtfully. “Via telegram? More a suggestion. Think of what a mess this is. I couldn’t support your bringing a claim. There would be public scrutiny. I should have to admit that you were a relation of mine, and how would that appear? My own nephew, serving as valet to another bishop, to obtain information on his wrongdoing? That would make me seem underhanded.”