Page 142 of To Catch a Viscount

And yet, as Andrew played a round of whist with Rothesby and Landon, he found himself oddly restless.

“Your wager, Waters,” Rothesby reminded, and Andrew, only half attending the hand, tossed down a handful of coins.

Both men folded, with Landon cursing under his breath and Rothesby pushing the impressive pot towards Andrew.

That in itself, those sizable winnings, would have been the sole focus of his notice at any other time.

But not for the first time that night, Andrew found his gaze drifting over to the ormolu clock.

“That has to be the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we sat for cards, Waters,” Rothesby drawled as he scooped up the cards and proceeded to shuffle the deck. “Are we boring you?”

“I’mboring me,” Landon lamented, saving Andrew from answering. “I do not understand why we’re playing at Waters’.” He tossed a couple of sovereigns upon the gaming table and placed his wager. “Not when there aren’t even eager women about to bed.”

“Because he knows his brothers-in-law will cut his life short if he’s out carousing mere weeks after he’s married,” Rothesby said. Adding his bet to the pile, he took a drink. “Isn’t that right, Waters?”

Scowling, Andrew eyed his cards. “It isn’t their business. We have an understanding.” He placed his wager and then slouched in his seat.

Registering his friends’ silence, he looked up.

Landon dropped an elbow on the edge of the gaming table and leaned forward, attending Andrew with all the curiosity of London’s nosiest busybody. “An understanding?”

Andrew looked to Rothesby. Alas, with the way he stared expectantly back, there’d be no help coming from that direction.

Andrew loosened his cravat. “Marcia is free to live her life as she wishes.”

“Which is why you are here, and she is wherever she is?”

She was with her friends, and he was here with these miserable bounders. Picking up his snifter, Andrew gave the contents a smooth swirl. “Precisely. Prior to our wedding, we each agreed that we would carry on our own lives, and there’d be no expectations from either party.”

“And you think that is something that will actually work?” Landon asked incredulously.

Andrew frowned. “I know it will.”

Rothesby and Landon looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

He bristled. “I’ll have you know that she is the one who had her friends to visit tonight, and I—” He closed his mouth, realizing belatedly he’d said too much.

“And you wished to join her, but are instead stuck with us miserable blighters?” Landon drawled.

“That willneverwork,” Rothesby informed Andrew, and Landon nodded.

“Rothesby is right. You should have consulted us before you’d agreed to such an asinine arrangement.”

“And whyever will it not?” Andrew shot back, bristling with annoyance. “Marcia and I have known one another for a good portion of our lives. There’s no romantic feelings involved. She is free to live her life, and I’m free to live mine, and—”

“And you cannot be so stupid as to believe all that,” Landon cut him off.

Andrew scowled into his glass. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know a number of things,” Rothesby said, leaning in. “One”—he shot a finger up—“your wife is young and innocent. Two, young and innocent ladies are romantic. Three, said romantic ladies always believe in love.”

Moisture slicked Andrew’s palms, and he dusted them along the arms of his chair. His friends were both suggesting that when he’d entered into his arrangement with Marcia, he’d deluded himself. Just as he’d fought the truth that had been there plain before him when Wakefield had paid a visit, calling Andrew out as he’d deserved. He’d pushed all those thoughts aside. For if what they suggested was in fact true, then it meant he’d ultimately hurt her. Which was, of course, inevitable. But never had he considered the possibility that he’d break her heart. Not in that way. “She didn’t want me underfoot this evening,” he found himself needing to add. It had been the first night he’d not spent solely with her. And he missed her.

“Did she say as much?” Rothesby asked.

He paused and searched his memory. “No, but neither did she seek me out.” She’d informed him that her friends were coming to visit and had lingered as if she’d intended to say more before ultimately leaving.

“Let me get this straight,” Landon said. “You expected your wife would invite you, London’s most notorious rogue and scoundrel who married her only because he was forced into the match by her father and brothers-in-law, to give up your usual pleasures to join her?” The other man groaned. “You really are not so very good at reading women, are you, Waters?”

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