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“Nothing,” Marcia said, speaking over their protestations. “It is fine,” she said tightly, not wanting to share what had transpired with them. Marcia firmed her jaw.

Whatever Atbrooke and his sister thought they might get out of her and Andrew, they were sorely mistaken.

Chapter 20

Seated at his desk, his chair tipped back on two legs while Rothesby and Henries, Rothesby’s man of affairs went over the details of the arrangement they were putting together, Andrew should be fully attending the discussion.

It was a discussion he’d wanted to be part of for longer than he could remember, but one he’d never had a hope of, because of the state of his finances.

And yet, now that he had those funds at his fingertips and the meeting he’d sought, he could not keep his mind from drifting to Marcia.

She’d invited him to join her and her friends in the park.

And he found himself wanting to be there with her now.

He found himself wishing he had delayed this meeting so that he might have spent the day with her.

Which was utterly preposterous. Theirs was, after all, a match born of convenience, one that had been made to save her reputation and to secure his funds and, with those funds, both of their futures.

So why could he not stop thinking about her?

Because you love her.

Andrew’s chair toppled backwards, and he hit the floor hard.

His heart thundering for reasons that had nothing to do with his fall, he stared unblinkingly at the ceiling overhead.

Of course I love her.

But he did notlovelove her.

Not in the romantic way she wished, because he couldn’t give a woman that level of love.

But Marcia wasn’t just any woman, and their relationship wasn’t like the relationships between other husbands and wives.

He groaned. Christ, this was bad.

Two figures peered over him, blocking his view of the white ceiling.

Rothesby frowned. “Waters?”

“I’m fine,” he groaned. “Never better.”

Scrambling to his feet, he righted his chair and reclaimed a seat upon it. “As you were saying?”

Footfalls pounded outside the corridor, and Andrew heard a familiar voice raised with fury. Andrew, Rothesby, and his man of affairs looked over just as the door exploded open, knocking hard against the wall.

Wakefield shot a hand out to keep the panel from hitting him in the face as it bounced back, and he stormed inside.

With a frown, Andrew came to his feet. “Wakefield. What—?”

“I’ve come to speak with you,” the earl gritted out, his gaze locked on Andrew.

Andrew’s frown deepened, and he caught the look Rothesby and his servant exchanged. “This isn’t a good time, ol’—”

“Don’t you dare ‘ol’ chum’ me,” Wakefield barked as two of Andrew’s footmen came forward, reaching for the gentlemen. They’d toss him out. But the other man was a friend, and Andrew would never tolerate that.

He lifted a hand, staying the servants. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?” he said quietly. “Perhaps we might continue this discussion another time?”