Deceived & Honoured - The Baron's Vexing Wife (Love's Second Chance #7)(8)

Standing beside the happily-married couple as they waved their goodbye to the Marquis and Marchioness of Rodridge, Derek swallowed, knowing he would have to reveal to his friend the trouble he had gotten himself into. He could not remember ever having done so before. After all, was not Tristan the impulsive dreamer and he the level-headed pragmatist? Suddenly, their roles were reversed, and Derek had no doubt that Tristan would enjoy this most thoroughly.

“Oh, I will miss them,” Beth sighed as the carriage turned the corner and was lost from sight. “Strangely enough, I feel as though I’ve known them forever.”

Pulling her into his arms, Tristan brushed a kiss on her cheek. “We will see them again soon,” he reminded her. “After all, Christmas is just around the corner.”

Beth laughed, slapping his shoulder good-naturedly. “Do not poke fun at me, my lord, for you might not live to regret it.”

With his hands linked behind his back, Derek stood to the side, waiting patiently for an opportunity to catch Tristan’s attention. Even though he dreaded this conversation, he could no longer put it off.

However, as always, his friend was oblivious to such subtle signs. In the end, it was Beth who noticed the strain on Derek’s face, her knowing eyes sliding over his tense shoulders before she turned to her husband. “I shall be in the library,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “A little peace and quiet will be wonderful after these rather turbulent days.”

Listening to the receding sound of her footsteps as she walked away, Derek inhaled a deep breath before he spoke. “Do you have a moment?”

Turning around once his wife was lost from sight, Tristan smiled at him. “Certainly.” Then his gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong? You seem quieter than usual…if that is at all possible.” Laughing at his own joke, he stepped up to Derek, his gaze open, awaiting a response.

“I’d appreciate it if we could take this into your study,” Derek forced out through gritted teeth. Strangely enough, he felt like a little boy about to confess a misdeed to his father.

And he did not care for it in the least.

Noting the tension on his friend’s face, Tristan sobered, then nodded and led the way to his study. After closing the door behind Derek, he poured them both a drink, holding out one glass to his friend. “Here, you look like you could use it.”

“You know I do not indulge.”

Rolling his eyes, Tristan set the glass down. “It’s only one drink. I was not suggesting you drain the whole bottle.”

Derek cleared his throat, unable to see the humour in his friend’s words.

“Fine,” Tristan said with a deep sigh, setting down his own glass as well. “What did you want to talk about?”

Derek drew in a deep breath as a strange sense of detachment washed over him. After all, this could not possibly be true. This could not be the reality he lived in. And yet, for the past few days, he had awoken every morning, realising that he was wrong as time refused to wash away the truth of what had happened.

And still, he could not believe it was real.

“Would you tell me what’s going on?” Tristan snapped, his gaze narrowed as he watched Derek closely. “You look as though someone’s died. What has happened?”

Swallowing, Derek opened his mouth. There was no point in delaying the inevitable any further. “It would seem I am to be married.”

As expected, Tristan’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened in utter astonishment as though they wished to spring out of their sockets. “Say again,” he mumbled after a while, still not blinking.

“You heard me.”

Suddenly, a face-splitting grin stretched over Tristan’s face, and he clapped his hands together in delight. “It’s about time,” he exclaimed. “Congratulations, my friend! Who is the lucky lady?”

Feeling his muscles tense, Derek swallowed. “Lady Madeline.”

If Tristan’s face had held stunned surprise before, it now almost fell apart in utter shock as he gawked at Derek for the better part of a minute. Then he blinked; a slow smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “Lady Madeline? Lord Carlton’s daughter?” Derek nodded. “How did you manage that?”

Still embarrassed by his own lack of foresight, Derek related the events at Lord Kingsley’s ball, and with each word, Tristan’s grin grew wider. “Was it your intention to compromise her?”

Derek’s glare hardened. “I had hoped you knew me better than to ask that.”

“I apologise.” Shaking his head at him, Tristan sighed. “I assure you I never meant to call your honour into question.” An apologetic grin came to his face. “However, I must admit I find your story quite entertaining.”

“I assure you you’re the only one who thinks so,” Derek grumbled, remembering only too vividly the hateful glare in Lady Madeline’s eyes. How could he ever marry her?

“I take it the lady is not taken with the idea of your impending nuptials?”

Derek exhaled loudly. “I believe it is certain to say that she despises me.”

Stepping forward, Tristan clasped a hand onto Derek’s shoulder. “I admit there are better ways to start a marriage,” Derek rolled his eyes, “but there is still hope. Remember that my own marriage started in a similar fashion and look at me now. I never thought I’d ever be this happy.”