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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I t had just started raining when Lysander, Margaret, and his two daughters arrived home.

It was a most unexpected arrival as the day had been bright and sunny when they left earlier in the morning.

This, Lysander was to find out as the four of them strode inside, wasn’t the only unexpected arrival that day.

“Your Grace!” Mr. Jeffries hurried toward them. “You have a visitor, Your Grace.”

“Oh?” Lysander was carrying Lenora in one arm as Aurelia clung to his other hand. “Pray, do tell, Mr. Jeffries. Who is it?”

“His Grace, the Duke of Morland,” Mr. Jeffries answered.

Lysander frowned. “Julian? He’s here?”

“In the drawing room, Your Grace. I warned him that I did not know when you would arrive home, but he insisted on waiting.” A crack of lightning suddenly erupted in the distance. “Although I suspect the weather had something to do with it.”

“Tell him I will be with him shortly.” He put Lenora down beside her sister. “The two of you, upstairs at once – no arguments.” He looked at them warningly, sensing their desire to protest. “It’s baths for both of you.”

“Yes, Father,” they mumbled, only for Aurelia to brighten. “Race you!” She then stepped around her sister and took off through the house.

“No fair!” Lenora cried after her.

“Girls!” Lysander shouted to no avail, as they were quick to disappear through the halls.

He laughed to see them go, not at all upset that they were behaving so frantically. In fact, it heartened him to see, as he loved it when they were in a mood like this, the pleasure felt in knowing how happy they were. And I know exactly who to thank for that.

Margaret was waiting patiently just behind him. She wore a soft smile, watching after the girls, and no doubt she found their playfulness as amusing as he did. When she saw him turn on her, she nodded her understanding. “I will leave you to it.”

He was about to agree to the fact, for there was no need for her to meet with him and Julian. Only then, Julian strode suddenly into the foyer as he must have heard them arrive.

“Ah, there he is!” Julian cried joyously. His voice boomed loudly, as was typical for the large man. “I was wondering if you would beat the storm.”

“Julian…” Lysander turned toward his friend. “This is… unexpected.”

“Do not sound so happy about it,” he chuckled. “And this must be Her Grace.” He stayed back across the foyer, but his large face broke into a smile. “I was hoping I might finally make your acquaintance. Shall you be joining us?”

“No, I do nae think so.”

“A shame.” Julian winked. “It would be nice to have someone else to look at than Lysander. A beauty such as you are, it would be a real pleasure to be sure.”

It was a strange thing, but Lysander felt a sudden pang of jealousy stab at him.

Julian had always been popular with the ladies, just as they had always been popular with him.

And where he did not think Julian was flirting with Margaret, nor that she would see it as such, to see him admire her as he so clearly was…

Why does it upset me so?

Lysander’s feelings toward Margaret were nothing if not conflicted.

On the one hand, she still vexed him terribly, and he was still not so certain of her influence around his daughters.

But he bore an undeniable attraction to her, one which had increased tenfold after the previous evening.

He wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone, and just the thought that another might have their eye on her did things to him he could not fully comprehend.

“Yes,” he said, holding out a hand for her to take. “She shall be joining us.”

“I will be?” she balked.

“Why not?” he said simply, squeezing her hand while making sure that Julian saw him do it. “Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”

She frowned at the gesture and the comment. Clearly confused, there was no doubt she was wondering about his true intentions. “As you wish.”

“Wonderful!” Julian cheered, oblivious to the confusion taking place between man and wife.

Keeping hold of his wife’s hand, Lysander followed Julian into the drawing room where his large friend made his way toward the drinking cabinet, which looked to Lysander as if he had already gotten himself into.

“You’re just in time,” Julian chuckled as they crossed the room together. He snatched at a half-poured glass of whiskey. “I was about to pour myself another.”

“Help yourself,” Lysander said.

“Oh, I already have.” He downed the glass and then walked quickly to the liquor cabinet, where he poured himself a second drink. “A good drink, this.” He finished pouring and had a sip. “I might have to steal it from you.”

“Assuming there is any left by the time you are done.”

His laughter was like the boom of a cannon.

“There certainly wouldn’t be if you had taken any longer.

The help said you were on a picnic?” His eyes lit up when he looked at Margaret.

“Not that I can blame you.” Julian strode across the room, stopping short and offering Margaret an exaggerated bow. “Your Grace, let us make it official.”

Margaret eyed him with caution. It was a reaction that was expected, as Julian had a large presence that was off-putting to most, until they grew used to him. And often, not even then.

“It is nice to meet ye,” she said, offering him her hand. Julian took it and gave the back a wet kiss. Lysander eyed the kiss, his stomach turning just a little to see how long Julian’s lips lingered on his wife’s hand.

“No doubt Lysander has told you all about me,” Julian said, dropping her hand finally.

Margaret raised an eyebrow at Lysander. “I cannae say that he has.”

“Shame on him.”

“Perhaps you should take it as a hint,” Lysander joked. He was still holding Margaret’s hand, but he felt the need to pull her in closer to him. Although he knew he was being silly, there was something about the way that Julian was watching Margaret that made him feel suddenly possessive.

“Too far.” Julian touched his chest as if he were hurt. “Why do you try and wound me?”

“For fun, mostly.”

He laughed and then winked at Margaret. “Is this your doing, Your Grace? I have heard of wives trying to drive wedges between friends, so I can only assume this is your handiwork.”

Margaret laughed. “I da nae think ye enough of a threat to even try. As I said, Lysander has nae mentioned ye once. Now, I am beginning to see why.”

Julian laughed louder and shook his head. “That accent. It is not without its charm, that is for sure.”

“What brings you here, Julian?” Lysander asked, steering the conversation. He gestured toward two couches by the fire, to which Julian obliged and took a seat on the single couch.

Lysander kept hold of Margaret’s hand as he led her to the double-seated couch.

They sat down, Lysander sitting right by Margaret, still holding her hand.

He could not say exactly why he was so insistent on keeping hold of Margaret’s hand and sitting so close that he was almost on top of her.

Was it because he needed to prove something to her?

As if last night was not enough to show her how damn much he wanted her. And why should that even matter?

“I do not wish to upset you or make you feel insignificant, but I did not come here for you,” Julian said with a great big smile.

“How sad,” Lysander said dryly.

Julian laughed. “A part of it was that I was in the area, and with the storm inbound, I sought refuge, and what better place than my dear friend’s home? At the very least, I knew you’d have a nice selection of liquor for me to sample.” He held up his glass and then took a sip.

“And the other part?’

“Ah…” Julian’s eyes glimmered in the light of the fire. “I confess, I was curious. Having not yet met your beautiful wife, I wanted to see if what they said of her was true.”

Lysander felt himself stiffen, his grip on Margaret’s hand tightening. “And what is it that they say?”

“How stunningly gorgeous she is, of course,” Julian said, which had Lysander stiffening.

“And I must say, I am pleased to announce that for once the rumors are true.” He took another sip of his drink.

“Which leads me to wonder, Your Grace…” He winked at Margaret.

“What on earth are you doing with this one? Surely, you can do better?”

Margaret chuckled. “Bad luck, I am afraid. And even worse judgment.”

“I see, I see,” Julian laughed.

“But it is what it is,” she sighed as if upset. “And I make my peace with it.”

Lysander knew that she was only joking, and the coy smile she shared with him was proof of that.

Still, he could not help but feel a little annoyed by Julian, as the man was being entirely too bold for his liking.

Putting him on the spot, seeming to want to force an angered reaction from him, as he knew that Lysander never enjoyed this kind of jest.

“What of you?” Lysander attempted to change the conversation again. As he did, he shuffled closer to Margaret. Too close, as he sat on her, she yelped, and he was forced to pull back.

“What of me?” Julian asked.

“Marriage, of course,” Lysander said. “I have not heard this Season of any lady who has taken your interest.”

“Nice try.” Julian winked and then grinned at Margaret. “You see how he tries to divert attention? Thinks he is an expert on marriage now.” He clicked his tongue.

“I was just asking the question.”

“Be sure you do not smother your wife…” He indicated how close Lysander and Margaret were sitting. “Let the lady breathe.”

“He is simply obsessed with me,” Margaret laughed. She squeezed Lysander’s hand and winked at him. “Can ye blame him?”

“Not at all,” Julian agreed. “Even if this is very unlike him. Which leads me to the one conclusion.” He looked between them. “My friend is smitten. Careful, Your Grace, if you mean to escape from this marriage, you best act quickly. Lysander is not one to be told no.”

“Oh, I ken that,” she said matter-of-factly.

Lysander choked. “It is not like that.”