Page 64 of The Defiant One
"What the hell is that?" snarled Andrew.
"Why, the special license that I've already procured for you, of course. I took the liberty of calling on an acquaintance of mine, whose bishopric he owes, most directly, to my influence. One good turn deserves another, don't you think?"
Andrew clenched his fists to keep them from swinging. He took deep breaths in a herculean effort to remain calm. "And I suppose you also took the liberty of having someone follow us from Lambourn to London, which is why, I suppose, you knew that Celsie and I were here?"
Lucien smiled thinly. "Ah, Andrew. You know me too well, I fear." He bowed. "I shall leave you now, so that you can make yourselves presentable. The rest of the family are downstairs, and they are all anxious to meet their sister-in-law-to-be."
Andrew exploded. He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach — the candlestick beside the bed — and flung it at his brother's smiling face.
Without even flinching, his expression never wavering, Lucien calmly reached out and caught it. With deliberate care, he put the candlestick down on the highboy that stood near the door, and turned his maddening smile on Celsie.
"I should warn you about your prospective husband, my dear," he murmured. "Temper goes with red hair."
And then, bowing once more, he turned and left them.
Chapter 19
Leaving the bed, Andrew stalked to the door and slammed it. There he stood, leaning his side against it, his brow bent to one hand. His shirt covered him down to midthigh. Celsie could see his mouth moving, could hear his soft tirade of profanity.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Yes, so am I. Plague take it, there's no way out of this now. Not with the bitch of Brookhampton armed with enough gossip to destroy your reputation forever. Bloody hell. Damn and thunderation. I am going to kill him, I swear it."
Celsie rose from the bed. She, too, still wore her linen shirt, though the hem covered her down to the knees. She walked slowly up to Andrew and tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn't shake her off but merely stood there, still leaning against the door, head bent and his hard, sullen eyes staring emptily at the floor. Her heart ached for him. What a horrible existence he must have had, with a monster like Lucien for a brother.
"I won't hold you to it," she murmured. "I could never force you or anyone else to do something you have no wish to do."
"And I could never face myself or anyone else if I were not to do right by you," he said, swallowing hard. "I should never have brought you here, should never have come into this room last night, should never have let you try that blasted potion —"
"Shhhh," she murmured, and then, knowing she was taking a huge chance, knowing she was going beyond the boundaries of friendship, she put her arms around him.
She expected him to violently recoil. She thought he might shove her away in disgust. Instead he did neither, just standing there stiffly, allowing her to hold him. He filled her arms, big and strong and hard beneath the softness of his shirt. She rested her cheek against the cup of his shoulder and held him.
Just held him.
"I guess I've got to ask you to marry me, then," he said a little shakily.
She stared at a nearby chair without really seeing it. "I guess I've got to accept."
He raised a hand to shove the hair out of his face — and suddenly he was returning her embrace, clinging to her as though she was the last anchor holding him against a storm-tossed sea. His head dipped towards hers and he claimed her lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his hand sliding behind her waist, splaying up her lower back and pulling her hard against him.
It was a kiss of desperation. Of comfort sought and comfort given. But both knew they could not put off the inevitable. After a few moments they reluctantly broke it, and just stood there in each other's embrace, her cheek against his chest, her arms around his waist.
"Since we've now got some news to share, I'd better present you to the rest of the family," he said quietly. "But if you're too embarrassed by recent events, if you wish to plead indisposition and remain up here, I will quite understand."
She took his hand and gazed deeply into his suffering eyes. "What, and leave you to the dragons all by yourself? No, Andrew. If we're going to be married, I will carry my own weight. And when need be, even yours."
He looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and despair and maybe even hope.
"Now come, let us at least get dressed," she said. "We might as well get this over with."
~~~~
They sat on the bed, discussing necessary arrangements. Then Andrew, seeing that Celsie had nothing to wear but the shocking breeches and shirt in which she'd arrived, sent for his sister. Nerissa came up, looking faintly uncomfortable but making a heroic effort to act as though nothing untoward had happened. Andrew noticed that Celsie kept her chin high, her eyes averted. His heart went out to her. How awkward she must feel, facing the woman who would soon be her sister-in-law. How mortified she must be, having been discovered in Nerissa's own bed. But Andrew knew that Nerissa was more than familiar with Lucien's cruel manipulations herself, and sure enough, his sister instantly took pity on Celsie, breaking the ice by making a disparaging remark about the brother they all wanted to strangle. He saw relief and gratitude flood Celsie's tight features. Then, satisfied that the two were warming to each other and trusting Nerissa to find some suitable clothes for Celsie, Andrew went downstairs to face his family.
Lady Brookhampton, thank God, had gone — no doubt bursting at her strained seams to spread what promised to be the year's juiciest gossip. Juliet and Amy were in the parlor, relaxing after their long journey. Only his brothers were in the library when Andrew entered, and with the exception of Lucien, they rose to greet him.
"I'm getting married," he said sullenly.
