Page 37 of Summoner of Sins

Sophie bit her lip. “Max doesn’t say much, but I think he’s worried.”

Tabbie frowned. “Are you worried?”

Sophie shrugged. “When Max is here, I think nothing can hurt us, but the moment he’s gone, I’m afraid he’ll be attacked, and he won’t come back.”

“If something happened to him, you come to me. I will take you and Abigail to one of my father’s other estates. He has so many, it’s easy to get lost.”

Sophie shook her head. “I could never?—”

Tabbie waved her hand. “We both know I’m not marrying. I have neither the appearance nor the inclination. We’ll be old maids together, giving Abigail the home she requires.”

Sophie hugged her friend again. Tabbie was truly a blessing she’d never imagined she’d have. “Thank you for being the most wonderful friend, I shall find a way to repay you.”

“You needn’t repay me.” Tabbie hugged her back. “Your friendship has been enough.”

“Good news,” Ironheart called from the doorway. “I’ve procured the license.”

Tabbie stiffened in Sophie’s arms. “It’s you.”

Sophie’s brows shot up at the way Tabbie prickled. “It’s you,” Ironheart rumbled back. “I told you not to come.”

“Good thing I do not take commands from arrogant dukes.” Tabbie sniffed.

Ironheart crossed the room, his long strides eating the ground between them. To Sophie, he was never commanding or particularly intimidating, preferring a jest to a growl most times. This was a completely different side to him. The way he looked at Tabbie it was…almost possessive.

How very interesting.

Max stood on the steps of his ancestral home, looking up at the tall façade with its cold gargoyles and he grimaced. He was only here for Sophie. He’d repeated that every few seconds as he rode in a hack from the barrister’s office to here. Rolling his shoulders back, he pulled the bell cord, standing straight and tall as he waited.

His father had gotten a military commission. Max was certain that his father had hoped the military would punish the stutter out of him. Max could have told him it wouldn’t work. The military’s discipline had been nothing compared to his father’s. What he’d learned in his time serving, was that his actions carried more merit than his words, and his silence held more sway than any words he’d ever spoken.

The butler opened the door, his bored expression quickly turning to shock. “Lord Maxwell.”

Max didn’t speak. He simply held out the letter he’d written. In it, he’d detailed his marriage, the fact the Duke of Ironheart was a witness, and the match was also supported by Lady Tabetha.

He wanted his father to see to Sophie’s care with whatever money he might have as an inheritance, and for his father to recognize her as his daughter-in-law. The butler took the note, opening the door wider. “You’re free to deliver this yourself.”

Max shook his head. He didn’t wish to see his father or either of his older brothers again. He turned, only to find his eldest brother, heir to the dukedom, coming toward him.

“Look at you.” His brother, the Earl of Westham, stopped. “All grown up and the most strapping of us all.”

Max didn’t answer as he drew himself up. His father had given his brothers free rein to treat Max without mercy. He had no good memories of them or his time there. Westham stopped at the bottom of the stairs, appraising Max with a certain wariness.

“Don’t look at me like you’re going to repay every deed I did as a child right this moment. I shan’t survive it, I’d dare say.”

“If I hit the way you did, then no. I don’t think you would.” To Max’s surprise, his voice held.

His brother had the decency to grimace. “He wasn’t kind to any of us, you know.”

Max nodded. He did know. His older brothers had had each other though. He’d always been everyone’s enemy.

“I’m marrying tomorrow.” He trotted down the steps, stopping in front of his brother. “And my club…”

“I know it. I was rejected.” His brother looked away. “Your doing?”

Max didn’t answer. “We’re being attacked by Lord Whitehouse.”

“That zealot?” His brother’s lips thinned.

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