Historical Romance June 2017 Books 1 - 4. Annie Burrows
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soon as all the men but Lord Havelock had gone, the jovial expression faded from Eastman’s features.
‘I think,’ Eastman continued, eyeing the card room, ‘that this would be a good time to try my luck at the tables. Since it is not running in my favour with affairs of the heart.’
‘You will need to clean yourself up a bit first,’ said Havelock, then snapped his fingers to summon a footman who must have been hovering somewhere close by. ‘Bridges here will take you to find water and a washcloth. And a fresh neckcloth. Cannot have you sitting down to play cards in soiled linen.’
Eastman sauntered off after the footman as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
And Edmund watched him go, his fists still clenched, bitterly regretting the fact that a man could wriggle his way out of fighting a duel if he made what sounded like an honest apology.
‘Come on,’ said Havelock, taking him by the arm.
‘What? Where are you taking me?’
‘My study. Only place Mary hasn’t put into use to raise money for Lady Chepstow’s blessed charity school. And you look as though you could use a stiff drink. And the privacy in which to pull yourself together.’
The privacy, however, was denied him the moment they entered Havelock’s study and found Lord Chepstow already in situ, nursing his own drink, in an armchair before the empty fireplace.
‘Ah, Havelock,’ said Chepstow, raising his glass. ‘You don’t mind, do you? This was the only room I could find that ain’t infested by charitable types attempting to separate me from my money.’
‘Not at all,’ said Havelock affably, pushing Edmund in the direction of another armchair. ‘We came in here for much the same reason.’
‘Good God,’ Chepstow suddenly exclaimed, straightening up from his slouch. ‘What the devil happened to you, Ashe?’
‘He had an altercation with Eastman,’ said Havelock, going to the sideboard and pouring two drinks. ‘Knocked him down.’
‘No!’ Chepstow grinned. ‘Why?’
Because he’d had no choice. He’d had to convince Eastman that he wasn’t going to let Georgie become yet another one of his conquests. He’d challenged him in the first place because everyone knew about the number of broken hearts and ruined reputations the man had casually left in his wake. It was just a pity the man’s reaction had made him lash out without thinking. Which had been extremely foolish as well as being completely out of character.
But he couldn’t have stood back and let Eastman add Georgie to his tally. Or hurt her in any way at all. Or even touch her, come to that. The thought of Eastman, or that bumbling cavalry Major, fixing his slobbering lips on Georgie’s perfect breasts...
Insupportable.
And yet, in order to protect her, he’d given her would-be seducer the notion he was on the verge of proposing to her himself.
Which he wasn’t.
But now there were at least two people who thought he might be.
And half a dozen more who suspected he had marital intentions in relation to someone.
Dammit!
‘Ashe?’ Havelock was pressing a drink into his hand and looking down at him with concern. And he realised he hadn’t answered Chepstow’s question.
‘He, ah, made a remark I didn’t much care for,’ he said, taking the drink.
‘About a lady?’
Edmund nodded in response to Chepstow’s question, then swallowed almost the entire contents of his glass in one gulp.
‘Want some ice?’
‘What?’
‘Ice,’ Chepstow repeated. ‘For your hand.’
Edmund glanced down to the fist he’d just clenched at the thought of any man putting his hands on Georgie, or starting rumours about her, and for the first time since he’d knocked Eastman down, noted that his knuckles were a touch sore. Not that he minded. A little discomfort was a small price to pay if it meant saving Georgie from an unscrupulous devil like Eastman.
‘You should remove your coat and let one of my people sponge it down for you, too,’ said Havelock, nodding in the direction of his upper arm, where Eastman had gripped him. And left a slight bloodstain.
He stood up jerkily and stripped off his coat while Havelock went to the fireplace and tugged on the bell pull.
‘I wish I’d seen that,’ said Chepstow. ‘You, Ashe, of all men, knocking Eastman down! I mean,’ he said, when Edmund glared at him, ‘must be dozens of men with more compelling reasons.’
‘No, there are not,’ said Havelock.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, clearly, he must have insulted Miss Wickford.’
Edmund sucked in a short, shocked breath. It was almost as if Havelock possessed some kind of sixth sense.
‘No need to look at me like that,’ said Havelock testily. ‘No secret Eastman’s been dangling after her of late. And after the trouble you went to, to get her accepted into society...’ he finished on a shrug.
‘Miss Wickford?’ Chepstow’s brow puckered in confusion briefly. ‘Oh, that girl from the country your sister Julia has taken such a shine to? The horsey one. The one with the brassy stepmother.’
‘That’s her,’ said Havelock. ‘And not only is she brassy, that stepmother has very little in her cockloft. She’s pushing those girls of hers at any man who will look twice. It’s no wonder a man like Eastman assumed she ain’t particular about the kind of propositions they’ll get. Not that I’m condoning him,’ he added, for Edmund’s benefit. ‘Type of man seriously wants knocking down.’
‘But,’ said Chepstow, looking confused, ‘she’s the big strapping one, ain’t she? Everyone knows Ashe here prefers his women small and blonde—like the other one. Whatshername.’
‘I wish,’ said Edmund irritably, flinging his coat across the back of his chair, ‘everyone would stop thinking they know anything about my taste in women.’
‘Look out, Chepstow,’ said Havelock with a grin. ‘He’s clenching his fists.’
Chepstow raised both hands in the air and backed away, an expression of mock terror on his face.
‘You are completely safe from me,’ said Edmund witheringly, deliberately unclenching his fists, which appeared to have taken on a mind of their own tonight. ‘Since you are not at present taking snuff, nor sullying the name of the woman, according to Eastman, I am about to marry.’
‘What?’
‘Snuff?’
Edmund had the satisfaction of getting their full attention with that cryptic remark.
‘Eastman assumed incorrectly,’ he informed them.
Although...if he didn’t marry Georgie, what was to become of her? She’d have to marry someone else. And he’d just discovered he couldn’t bear the thought of any other man touching her. Let alone subject her to the act which she’d consider an assault.
He couldn’t even stomach the thought of her entering into a marriage of convenience, since no other man would have a clue how to make her happy. Or the inclination to make the attempt.
And he wanted her.
So perhaps he should marry her himself.
‘At the time,’