Page 42 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“Indeed,” Lady Carlisle exclaimed, glaring at her youngest daughter as if she’d committed an outrageous sin.
Madam Baptiste laughed. “Who would not want to marry a duke?”
Vaughan flipped over his cards,revealing a royal flush. “I win.”
Complaining under their breath, his companions pushed the winnings toward him. Vaughan gathered them, then collected the cards and shuffled them, ready for the next hand.
Across from him, Mr. Norton Falvey puffed on a cigar. He exhaled and blew the smoke directly toward Vaughan.
Vaughan tried to fan the smoke away. “If you must do that, kindly aim it elsewhere.”
Mr. Falvey smirked. “What would be the fun in that?”
Vaughan scowled at him, and Falvey stubbed the end of the cigar on a tray and set it aside.
“I hear you’ve found yourself a new fiancée,” the Earl of Wembley said as Vaughan dealt cards to each of the four men seated at the table in the Regent.
“Yes,” Falvey said. “It’s a little unusual to take your former fiancée’s sister as your betrothed.”
Vaughan met Longley’s gaze across the table. His friend had warned Vaughan that he might face comments like this, but honestly, he’d rather that than brave the marriage mart again.
“What do you think of Lady Emma?” Wembley asked, picking up his cards and studying them.
Vaughan checked his own cards. He had two tens and an ace, but nothing else of use.
“She seems pleasant enough,” he said.
Falvey barked a laugh. “You were conned. You should never have accepted the less-pretty Carlisle girl as a substitute for the other. There are plenty of pretty chits out there, and you could have had your choice of them.”
Aggravation bubbled within Vaughan as they each made their move. How must Lady Emma feel about constantly being compared to her twin and coming off worse? There was no chance that she wasn’t aware of the comparisons. Nobody was subtle about it, and really, Emma was quite attractive in her own right.
“Lady Emma is sensible and even-tempered, which can’t be said for all pretty chits.” Although she hadn’t been so even-tempered when she’d snapped at him at Mayhew House.
“Lady Emma is a nice girl,” Longley said, a warning in his tone.
Falvey grumbled.
“It doesn’t matter what she is, anyway,” Vaughan said. “I have no desire to become one of those men who is besotted with their wife. As long as she behaves appropriately, I don’t need to know anything else about her.”
“You’re a stick in the mud,” Falvey said. “You only get one chance to choose a bride. You should make the most of it. Not all of us have women tripping over us like you do.”
Vaughan scoffed. “Because of the title.”
Falvey waved his hand dismissively. “Who cares what the reason is.”
“He’s not a stick in the mud,” Wembley said. “He’s cold.”
Vaughan frowned. He wanted to protest but then recalled that the earl had a daughter of marriageable age and probably wanted more for her than Vaughan was willing to give Emma. It made sense that he’d be protective of the young ladies. It wasn’t personal.
But it still stung.
“It’s not that I don’t care for her,” he said, unable to help wondering whether Emma also thought he was cold, and if he’d be bothered if she did. “I’ve seen what happens when men get too attached to their wives. You recall my father?”
Each of the men nodded in acknowledgement. Everyone knew the stories about the previous Duke of Ashford. Not only had he been a miserable wretch while his duchess was alive as a result of her many affairs, but when she’d died in a carriage accident, he’d ceased functioning as a member of society.
Some days, he hadn’t even gotten out of bed.
“Your concern is understandable,” Longley said, then called a higher bid. Wembley folded, but Vaughan and Falvey matched Longley. “You should at least get to know Lady Emma, though. From what I’ve heard, your mother was something of a hell-raiser before she ever married your father. Lady Emma’s reputation is quite different.”
