What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(95)

“Botched it, I suppose.”

He nodded. “How amenable do you think Wycoff would be?”

“Well, he might try to shoot you, but he’s a worse shot than I am. The odds are in your favor.”

“Ah, that is reassuring,” Colin said.

The marquess sighed. “I think the most significant question is whether Lady Angeline is receptive to your proposal. I know the two of you have been in one another’s pockets, but we both know she has endured a rough time. I’ve no doubt she will come about and be the toast of the ton once again. But marrying and participating in the London season may be too much for her all at once. I don’t know. Margaret and the duchess would have you rush to the altar. However, you know Lady Angeline better than anybody, and I think the two of you are especially fortunate that you have had the opportunity to really know one another before the marriage.”

“It was purposeful,” he said. “She suggested it.”


“Do you love her?”

He swallowed. “Very much.”

“And?”

“We’ve had a spat or two, but to our credit we reconcile well enough.”

“Ah, yes, reconciliation.” The marquess rose, walked around his desk, and clapped Colin’s shoulder. “I can’t think of a better wife for you, son. No doubt the two of you will have many spats, reconcile frequently, and present me with my first grandchild within nine months.”

Colin laughed. “Thank you, Father.”

“Do you plan to journey to London next week?”

“Yes.”

“Your friends are prepared and the plan is solid?”

“Yes, everything is in order.”

“Son, I’m rather fond of you, though I’m not certain why.”

Colin laughed.

“I will give you a bit of advice. Beat the bloody hell out of the bastard, but don’t kill him. His foul blood isn’t worth having on your hands. When it’s over, have him hauled off to a press-gang. He’ll wish he were dead and that’s punishment enough.”

Colin nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

“Take every precaution, son. You have a beautiful young woman who will be waiting anxiously for your return and so will I. Finish this nasty business once and for all. Then we will celebrate upon your return. While you’re in London, you might consider purchasing a special license.”

Colin nodded. “I appreciate all of your advice, particularly the reminder for the special license. I would very much like to wed her upon my return.”

“You might propose first,” the marquess said.

“Yes, on bended knee this time.”

“Do I want to hear about the other time?”

Colin shook his head. “Probably not.”

“I love you, son. Go defend her honor, and then come home in one piece. I’ll see what I can do about finding you a property.”



That evening

The marquess did his neighborly duty and invited Reverend Quimby and his wife to dinner. Mrs. Quimby once again regaled everyone with minute descriptions of Harwell, Baron Overton’s property. Angeline politely conversed with the reverend, but she was anxious. Her father had announced they would stay an additional week at Deerfield and gave no other explanation. Earlier this afternoon, her father, the marquess, and Colin had gone into the study. They had remained there for several hours. Angeline was very concerned. She feared that Colin would challenge Brentmoor to a duel. All afternoon, she had waited for an opportunity to speak to Colin, but she’d ended up reading to the ladies while they stitched this afternoon, and there had been no chance to have a private conversation with Colin. She was anxious and hoped that they would be able to talk in the drawing room, because she needed reassurance that he would not duel.

When dinner ended, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room for tea and stitching. Penny played “Robin Adair” and the twins sang. For once, Angeline focused on stitching, hoping to evade a “coze” with Mrs. Quimby.

“Lady Angeline, you have been especially quiet this evening,” Mrs. Quimby said.

“My thoughts have been elsewhere, Mrs. Quimby. Do forgive me. How are you and all of your family?”

“We are all happy and well. Reverend Quimby received a letter from Baron Overton a few days ago.”

“Ah, letters are always welcome.” Angeline exchanged a smile with Margaret. Clearly Mrs. Quimby was ready to launch into her favorite topic.

“Of course, all is prospering at Harwell House,” Mrs. Quimby said. “I am only sorry that the reverend and I missed Baron Overton’s dinner party. But I have the letter here. It will only take a moment to find it in my reticule.”

Angeline met her mother’s resigned gaze. She hoped there was only one letter.

“Ah, here it is,” Mrs. Quimby said, smoothing out the paper. “Yes, Baron Overton writes that he was gratified to invite the most illustrious guests who are new to the neighborhood, Lord and Lady Brentmoor.” She paused. “Are you acquainted with the family, Lady Angeline?”

Angeline hesitated for a moment, and then she pulled the embroidery thread. Mrs. Quimby could not have known that the mention in the letter would cause great consternation.

Margaret had a gift for maneuvering guests who overstepped the bounds. “Mrs. Quimby, do you have friends or relations near Baron Overton?”