Page 130 of To Catch a Viscount

Rothesby and his man of affairs immediately stood.

“Of course,” Rothesby murmured as Henries hurriedly stacked his papers, filing them away.

As they took their leave, Rothesby paused to give Wakefield a look. Wakefield, however, gave no indication he saw him. His furious gaze remained locked on Andrew.

Never in all the years that he’d known the other man had Andrew seen him enraged, and certainly never had Andrew found himself the recipient of any such anger.

The moment they’d gone, Andrew motioned to one of the empty chairs. “Can I get you a—”

“I don’t want a damned drink,” Wakefield cut him off. He scraped his gaze over the desk littered with the paperwork for Andrew’s new investment. “I’m not here to pay a social call.”

Andrew flashed a wry grin. “Given your current state, I didn’t think it was.”

“You are a selfish twat.”

Andrew blinked. “I…”

“She deserved more. She deserved better.”

Andrew stiffened. So that was what this was about. What Marcia deserved. But then, they’d always been like brothers to her. Or Wakefield had. Along the way, Andrew’s feelings for her had grown beyond the fraternal regard he’d always carried and morphed into an all-consuming love.

He froze.

Love.

He braced for the shock and horror that had toppled him earlier. But this time they didn’t come. He loved her. He loved being with her and making her smile, and he loved the way she made him smile and—

“Do you have nothing to say?” Wakefield barked, bringing Andrew crashing back to the other man’s lecture.

“Undoubtedly,” he said solemnly, in complete agreement and without offense. Wakefield knew him as well as his own family, and as such, he knew Andrew’s soul had been corrupted and was too dark for Marcia.

Wakefield scowled. “That is it? That is all you’d say? My God, you’ve taken her to places she has absolutely no place being, places not fit for any innocent, respectable woman.”

He winced. So he had discovered the details.

“Marcia has a mind of her own,” he said stiffly. He’d not reveal all the details of the arrangement that had ultimately led to their marriage. That wasn’t information Wakefield needed or deserved. “I have no intention of discussing my wife with you.”

Wakefield’s lip peeled back in a sneer. “Ah, yes, your wife. And this from the man who vowed he’d rather spend his days in hell than suffer the constraints of marriage.”

The other man tossed out those words Andrew had laughingly thrown some years earlier.

“Things… changed.”

“Because you ruined her,” Wakefield spat, and his entire body rocked forward. “How very convenient that was for you.”

Andrew frowned. “Have a care, Wakefield?” he warned. The other man might be a friend, but there was only so much Andrew would tolerate.

“You tell me to have a care, Waters,” the other man scoffed. “You, whose wife is being accosted by your former lovers in Hyde Park while you’re busy”—he slashed a hand angrily at Andrew—“doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

So that was why Wakefield had come. Andrew’s stomach flipped over, and he prayed he heard the other man wrong. “What?”

“Lady Carew,” Wakefield spat. “She singled out your wife.”

Andrew unleashed a curse. He should have expected that night in Cyprian’s Den hadn’t been the last he’d seen of the viper. That, ultimately, she’d intended to spread her poison, and she’d done just that.I should have been there with her…“Marcia—”

“Handled herself with grace and aplomb and strength.” His friend answered the rest of Andrew’s unspoken question.

Of course she had. But she shouldn’t have had to. And she only had to deal with the manner of seedy people in his past because of the manner of man he’d been.

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