Page 22

T here was nothing to cool a man’s ardor like Marcus Latimer levelling a speaking glare your way, especially when the message contained within said glare was, I am going to disembowel you with a rusty blade . And so, Harrington was ready and waiting for the duke when he returned to the study.

Trevissick didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Aunt Griselda is correct. She is Diana’s legal guardian, and she has made it clear that she will not refuse her permission. I therefore cannot stop the two of you from marrying.”

Harrington’s head swam. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Kissing her in that closet had felt like a fever dream. Surely, he must have imagined the eagerness with which she’d kissed him back, the greedy touch of her hand on his body, the way she had pressed her breast into his hand.

And the notion that he was going to marry Diana Latimer seemed so obviously impossible that he wondered if someone had slipped something nefarious into the lemonade. He felt unbearably happy and as if he might cast his accounts, simultaneously and in equal measures.

The duke was still speaking. “We have never got along.”

“Which is my fault,” Harrington said quickly. “And I would like to apologize. I was ghastly.”

Trevissick responded by rolling his eyes. “Rest assured, even had you not pulled a litany of childish pranks, I would not have liked you, regardless.”

That brought Harrington up rather short, but really, how could he argue?

What was there to like? Edward was the clever one, the responsible one, the one who never let his family down.

Harrington, on the other hand, was nothing but a wastrel.

A waste of good linen, that was him. Good for nothing but cannon fodder.

Diana’s words echoed in his head. Don’t even joke about that . He knew she was the clever one, but he wasn’t sure she had the right of it there. Experience had taught him that it was always best to make the joke yourself, before someone else got the chance. To show the world how little you cared.

And the tightness in your throat, the way you worried you might have to wipe your eyes after she said that? Is that a mark of how little you care?

But she didn’t know the awful truth. She thought she did, no doubt. But she imagined that his indiscretions ranged from schoolboy pranks to drunken carousing to the pedestrian sort of sexual depravity.

Unfortunately for both of them, there was nothing pedestrian about Harrington’s sexual vices. If Diana had an inkling what he really liked, she would have slapped him across the face, rather than kissing him in that closet…

Harrington shoved that thought aside. “Of course. Your sister, on the other hand, seems to be laboring under the delusion that I’m a decent sort of chap.”

“Precisely. What is more, you left to join your regiment mere weeks after she made her debut. The two of you scarcely know each other.” The duke drew in a breath, wrinkling his nose as if what he was about to say was extremely distasteful.

“This will come as a shock, but yesterday, I gave Diana permission to spend more time in your company. To see if the two of you might be compatible.”

“Really?” At the duke’s crisp nod, Harrington continued, “That was downright decent of you, Trevissick.”

“It was against my better judgment,” he snapped.

“But I am trying not to be tyrannical where my sister is concerned. Regardless, this”—he gestured between himself and Harrington—“is happening entirely too fast. I am not unaware of how heady the early days when you are first falling in…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to countenance the possibility that the thing his beloved sister felt for his mortal enemy could be described as love .

“When you develop an infatuation,” he amended.

“You can only picture your happy future. The possibility that things could sour is the farthest thought from your mind. But sour they often do. And that is why I want to give Diana options.”

“What kind of options?” Harrington asked. There certainly weren’t many. ’Til death do us part was about as final as you could get.

“An annulment,” Trevissick said crisply. “Should Diana change her mind, we will leave the door open for her to dissolve this impulsive union.”

“I would never deny her,” Harrington said. Because really, what was more understandable than Diana wanting to be shot of him? “But if we go to that house party together, it won’t matter what papers we sign. Everyone will regard Diana as ruined.”

Trevissick leaned forward over the desk, his expression furious, as if Harrington had spoken ill of her.

“I do not give a single damn what ‘everyone’ thinks! I want my sister to be happy. She will always have a place in my household and my full support. And if anyone dares to breathe a word against her, they can meet me with swords at dawn!”

Harrington held up his hands. “Of course. Well, I’ll readily agree to that.

If, after the house party, Diana wants nothing to do with me…

” His throat contracted, which was ridiculous.

After all, this was the most likely outcome.

He knew that. “I’ll sign anything she wants,” he said, the words coming out less steadily than he would have liked.

“There is one more thing that is necessary to make an annulment possible,” the duke said stiffly.

Harrington cleared his throat, praying the conversation would end soon. “What’s that?”

“The marriage cannot have been”— Trevissick’s face contorted into a portrait of disgust—“ consummated .”

Oh. Right. Of course, that was a condition for any annulment. He knew that.

It didn’t stop his cheeks from burning, though. “R-right,” he stammered. “I, uh. I expect we’ll be sharing a room at the… you know. The house party.”

“You will not,” Trevissick countered. “I will write to Carl Frederick explaining that you and Diana require separate bedrooms, on account of your atrocious snoring.”

“I don’t think I snore,” Harrington muttered. After all, he’d spent six years sleeping in Long Chamber at Eton with close to a hundred other boys. The odds that they wouldn’t have mocked him relentlessly for that were about as good as a snowball’s chances in hell.

The duke’s glare was poisonous. “You do now.”

Harrington waved a hand. Really, what was the point of arguing? “Fine. Say whatever you need to say. I won’t argue.”

“There’s one thing more.”

Harrington gave a bitter laugh. He’d already agreed not to lay a hand on his own wife! What more could Trevissick possibly ask of him? “What’s that?”

The duke’s eyes were deadly serious. “You must swear?—”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “Fine! I swear, she’ll come back from that house party a virgin.”

“—on your brother’s grave,” the duke amended.

“On my…?” Harrington gaped at him. He had to be referring to John, the second youngest of the Astley siblings.

When Harrington was twelve and John two, a fever had swept through the house. He hadn’t been that sick, but it had been a close thing for several of his siblings. Freddie, who had been just six months old, had nearly died, and Lucy hadn’t been able to move from her bed for a month.

And John, bright, bubbly John, who’d had the biggest smile in the world, and who Harrington had absolutely adored, had fallen into a feverish sleep one night and never awoken.

It still hurt to think about it, even all these years later. It wasn’t just that Harrington didn’t know what to say to the duke’s callous request. He couldn’t seem to physically force any words past the lump that had formed in his throat.

Seeming to grasp what a vicious thing this was to ask, the duke softened his voice. “I know it is harsh. But this is the only way I can be satisfied that you will not fall into temptation.”

Harrington swallowed. He could do this. After all, nothing was really at risk. He had just sworn he wouldn’t sleep with Diana during the house party, which meant he wasn’t going to do it. His word was good.

Not that Trevissick seemed to appreciate this.

“I swear,” he said hoarsely, “upon the grave of my little brother, John...” He had to stop and clear his throat. “That when your sister returns from Carl Frederick’s house party, her maidenhead will be intact.”

Trevissick clasped him on the shoulder, and for the first time Harrington could recall, the duke was looking at him with something other than disdain. “Thank you.”

The duke left the room, and Harrington found himself alone, feeling strangely hollow, considering he was about to marry the girl of his dreams.