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Patrick raised one brow in apparent surprise before joining the Duke, "What has got you in such a snit? Let me guess, her name begins with the letter L and rhymes with vanilla."

"Lavinia doesn't rhyme with vanilla."

"Ah," he smiled, "so it is her after all. Who would have guessed? The answer to that question, by the way, is anybody with half a working eye and anything but air between their ears."

At that moment, the carriage passed under a streetlamp and Victor was able to see the smile that stretched the other man's mouth. He was greatly tempted to put his fist into that smile and knock a few teeth loose. But then, he remembered that the man had nothing to do with his predicament.

If there was anyone who should be losing a few teeth, it should be him. He had been in his full senses when he had dragged her away from the dance floor and marched her to that study like a criminal being led to the guillotine. He even distinctly remembered Patrick trying to talk him out of his stupidity. He really should have listened.

"I need a drink," he finally said.

The viscount snorted, "You need several drinks my friend. I don't think one is going to do you any good," a pause, "I don't think several will help either come to think of it."

"You know what will help?" Victor drawled, "a round or two with you in the fighting ring."

The other man's smile died instantaneously. The Duke may have been a gentleman and the holder of one of the most ancient and powerful titles in the country, but in the ring, he was a beast. It had been long since the two men had gone against each other for some stress relief, and the Viscount was in no hurry to change that.

"I do hope you've got whiskey. Brandy is not going to cut it tonight," he conceded.

Victor chuckled, "What brewery owner worth his salt drinks bloody brandy?"

CHAPTER 18

"What did that fire ever do to vex you?"

Victor didn't look up from where his gaze was fixed on the fireplace in his study. Rolling his broad shoulders in a shrug, he put the bottle to his mouth and took another swig of the golden liquid that wasn't doing its job of emptying his head fast enough.

"Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Miss Proctor? Or shall I guess?"

He finally tore his gaze away from the fire to stare at the Viscount, "I'm too sober for that conversation."

"It looks to me like you're not trying hard enough to change that," the man pointed out.

"What does that mean?"

Patrick wisely changed the topic, "is the engagement over then?"

The Duke dragged a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up. It was getting a tad overlong and was looking rather rakish. He would have to cut it soon for the wedding.

"No," he insisted, "the wedding will take place as planned. The situation isn't that dire."

Patrick blinked at him, "then why in all that is holy are we drowning ourselves in whiskey? Not that I'm complaining about the free alcohol. It's a rather wonderful bottle. Say, Victor, how long do you plan on letting that barrel sit before you make your magic?"

"She's far too tempting," was the Duke's bitter reply. "And she was going to kiss Forsythe. I could not let her kiss that bastard. She's betrothed to me and he is a mystery. I do not believe he's a good man. I could not let her get close to him, you know? He must be dangerous and she would have been in harm's way."

Patrick's eyes were wide with shock, "What are you going on about? I can't make heads or tails of your blathering. Why would she want to kiss Forsythe? I do not think she knows him at all."

A chuckle echoed through the room. "It would have been for my benefit and it was all because I told her that I will not touch her."

It was impossible, but the Viscount's eyes went wider. "You told her what? Now why would you do that?"

The Duke took another swig of his drink and prepared to have the entire sordid tale come out, "It was supposed to be a marriage in name only. I do not know why she agreed to it."

"Because her aunt wears clothes from a few seasons ago."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Patrick rolled his eyes and muttered, "bloody obtuse."