Page 29 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
He’d need to find another potential bride. Not only that, but some of the young ladies of the ton might be inclined to think there was something wrong with him. Why else would anyone jilt a duke?
He groaned. How much did he really care if the estate went to Cousin Reginald or his brood?
A sour taste filled his mouth. He cared enough not to allow it to happen. After all, Reginald hadn’t only been cruel to Vaughan, but he’d been cruel to his father as well, teasing him for the duchess’s many notorious affairs. Vaughan had had to watch as his father became more fractured every day.
Shaking away the memory, he stood and left the office, then locked it behind himself. He wouldn’t be able to work now.
He summoned his carriage and asked the coachman to drop him off at his club, the Regent. When he arrived, he foundLongley where he’d suspected he would, playing cards with two other members of the aristocracy.
“Ashford,” he exclaimed, straightening in his brown leather chair. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
His companions greeted Vaughan with nods.
“Do you have a minute, Longley?” Vaughan asked.
Longley’s eyebrows shot up. “Won’t you join us?”
“I’m not in the mood.” In fact, he wasn’t in the mood for much other than shaking Lady Violet Carlisle by the shoulders and demanding to know whether she’d gone mad.
“I’ll finish this hand.” Longley surveyed the room, then called out, “Adair, want to take my place?”
The eldest Mr. Adair, Marwick’s heir, broke off his conversation and strode over. “Happy to.”
They finished out the round, and Longley pocketed his winnings.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” Vaughan suggested.
“Lead on,” Longley said.
Vaughan found a room across the hall that was empty except for a pair of older gentlemen sharing a decanter of brandy in the corner. His shoes tapped against the tile floor as he chose a seat as far from them as possible and slumped into it. Longley took the chair on the other side of the small table between them.
Not for the first time, Vaughan thanked whatever sensible man had decorated the Regent. Everything was in soothing shades of white and brown. Nothing too overwhelming. Certainly a far cry from the decor at the balls he’d attended recently.
“What’s going on?” Longley asked. “I assume it’s serious to have broken you out of your routine. Isn’t Tuesday when you usually review the estate ledgers?”
Vaughan grunted. His friend had always mocked him for being predictable. He drew in a deep breath, realizing thatthere was no easy way to say this. It was awkward as hell, and unfortunately, all of the ton was going to know before long.
“Lady Violet Carlisle eloped with Thomas Mayhew the night after the Hampstead Ball.”
Longley jolted, his eyes widening. “She did what?”
“Eloped.” Vaughan dragged his hand through his hair, relishing the faint prickle of discomfort as he tugged too hard. “They’re bound for Gretna Green.”
“But… She…” Longley appeared to be at a loss for words. “Seriously?”
Vaughan gave him a look. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”
“Bloody hell.” Longley gestured at a servant and indicated that he wanted a drink. “When did you find out?”
“Lord Carlisle visited me right before I came here.”
He scowled. “He didn’t think to tell you sooner?”
“Perhaps he hoped he’d bring her home with no one the wiser.” Vaughan couldn’t blame him for putting off the unpleasantness. But he could blame Violet. He could blame her for everything.
“I’m sorry.” Longley reached over and clapped Vaughan on the shoulder. “I feel terrible. It was my idea for you to court her, and now this. I honestly had no clue she and Mayhew were involved.”
“It’s not your fault.” Vaughan glanced up as the servant approached with what smelled like brandy and poured them each a glass. “Thank you,” he said, and the boy nodded.
