The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(54)

She bit her lip and smiled. “Good point.”



Preston stretched out next to her, relaxed into her soft curves and buried his nose in her hair. Mmm, absolute heaven. Why did she always smell so good? “Will you tell me why you rushed here in such a hurry tonight?”

“Do you really want to hear about it?”

“If you want to talk about it, then yes.”

Sighing, she snuggled into his body, her backside digging into his groin. “My father is seeing someone. My mother’s best friend. I think he loves her.”

Preston struggled not to react. Christ, the last thing he wished to hear about was Lloyd, let alone Lloyd’s intimate life. He wanted Delafield miserable and alone, like Ebenezer Scrooge before the ghosts arrived. But his feelings for Lloyd had to be set apart from his dealings with Katherine.

Keeping his voice even, he asked, “And?”

“And I hate it. My mother’s gone only two years and he’s already found someone else. And her best friend? Mama would be appalled. Does he . . .” Her voice trembled, like she was fighting tears. “Does he not even miss her?”

For fuck’s sake, Preston was going to have to come to Delafield’s defense, wasn’t he? It was either that, or let Katherine suffer—and he’d rather cut off a limb than see her cry. And really, there were a lot of reasons to hate Delafield, but him belly-bumping with some older widow wasn’t one of them.

Preston kissed her temple. “You miss your mother. It’s understandable. But your father isn’t replacing her, sweetheart. No one can replace her. More than likely he’s just lonely. You know, there are some men who prefer companionship to being alone, especially as they age. You should be happy for him.”

“Happy that he’s taking down my mother’s paintings and fawning over her best friend in public? God only knows what they’re doing in private.”

Likely what Preston and Katherine had just done, but he didn’t point that out. “I understand your hurt and anger, I do. But the idea of him in a new relationship will get easier over time, I would imagine. Do you like her, at least?”

“That’s hardly the point. He’s been lying to me, keeping this secret for more than a year. I never would’ve known if I hadn’t caught them in the park when I went driving with Lockwood.”

Preston tensed. What the hell? “When was this?”

“Earlier today.”

Were things turning serious with the duke? Preston didn’t like it, not one bit, but he pushed aside his sudden desire to punch Lockwood. “And what did your father say when you asked him about it?”

“That he isn’t trying to replace Mama. He merely doesn’t wish to spend the rest of his life alone.”

“See? Exactly as I said.”

“No one likes a know-it-all, Preston.”

He chuckled. “I can’t help it if I know everything. Besides, I know a little about losing someone you love.”

“Your father. I forgot.”

“No. I mean, yes. My father passed away a few years ago, but I was very angry with him when he died.” He was still angry, resentful of how badly Henry had managed everything before he passed away, leaving Preston with a mountain of shit to clean up. “I meant my friend Forrest.”

“It was this past summer, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

The pressure on his chest increased, like someone was sitting on top of him. He hadn’t talked about Forrest, not really. Kit knew more than anyone, but Preston hadn’t told his friend all of it.

When he hesitated, Katherine said, “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I want to.” And he did. For some reason, he trusted Katherine with his secrets, the darkest parts of himself. Perhaps because she’d seen him at his worst, he didn’t think he could scare her away. And it would be a relief to tell someone all of it.

“When I met Forrest in college, he’d never had anything more than a watered-down beer. I fancied myself experienced, already smoking and drinking spirits, so I used to drag him out behind the buildings between classes and give him my flask.” He exhaled a heavy sigh. “From there, it continued. The four of us often went drinking, and Kit and Forrest especially grew to love a party. We rarely went home, sticking together more often than not.”

He noticed that Katherine was holding his hand, her other hand stroking his arm, and he soaked in that small comfort for a second. “Then I learned my father had nearly lost everything. He had this gambling problem—”

Katherine stilled and he sensed her surprise. So Lloyd hadn’t told her, after all.

Preston kept going. “The business was in absolute shambles. I left school early because we couldn’t afford it anymore and I had to take over Clarke Holdings, had to try to turn it around before it was too late.”

“Oh, Preston. I had no idea. You were clearly successful, though.”

“Due in large part to Forrest’s help.”

She rolled onto her other side so they faced each other. “What do you mean?”

“The bank was going to take the house, so I went to Forrest and borrowed money. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to consider it a gift, that I never had to pay it back.” The lump in his throat expanded. “And in exchange, I allowed him to drink himself to death.”