Page 94 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
She curtsied. “I’ll do that right away, Your Grace.”
She hurried away from him down the corridor. Hmm. Presumably that meant Violet and Mr. Mayhew were not in the bedchamber. Hopefully he didn’t come across either of them. They’d shared polite chitchat over breakfast this morning, but he was still irritated with Violet for coming to his office yesterday.
Especially now that he knew Emma had seen them.
Vaughan glanced out of a window. On the horizon, trees blew in the wind, and the sky was gray. Perhaps not the best riding weather. Instead, he made his way to the library to his other great escape: books.
As he entered, he noticed the scratching of a pen on paper and froze.
Unfortunately, Mr. Mayhew, who was seated at a desk facing the door, had already seen him. He nodded in greeting. Vaughan nodded in return. Perhaps he could get away without engaging. Right now, he really wanted to be alone with a book.
He surveyed the shelves until he found one he hadn’t read, took it down, and carried it to a comfortable armchair in front of the empty fireplace. He glanced at it, wondering whether he should call for it to be lit. The temperature was plummeting outside. Perhaps soon.
He sat and adjusted his position, then opened the book to the first page.
“Aren’t you going to enquire about what I’m working on?” Mr. Mayhew asked before Vaughan had even read the first sentence.
Vaughan raised his head, a furrow forming between his eyebrows. “You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Mr. Mayhew flourished his pen. “I am writing a poem.”
“I hope it’s coming along well.” Vaughan enjoyed poetry, but not the flowery stuff he knew Mayhew preferred.
“I’m at a bit of an impasse, actually.”
“Ah.” Hence their current discourse.
“I’m writing about love, and it’s made me think. You and I are brothers of a kind now.”
Vaughan sighed. He should have turned and left the room as soon as he’d seen Mayhew. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
“We are?” he asked.
“Of course.” Mayhew looked surprised by the question. “Having married a pair of sisters. Twins, no less.”
“Then we are brothers-in-law.” Not nearly the same thing, but perhaps Mayhew just wanted to be able to claim to be related to a duke.
“So we are.” Mr. Mayhew seemed delighted by this. “I dare say, I must apologize for the whole jilting episode. I couldn’t allow you to marry Violet. I had to snatch her up for myself. You understand, I’m sure. She’s a jewel.”
Vaughan stared at the man in utter disbelief. Where on earth had he found the nerve to say such a thing?
One did not speak of their host’s jilting. They brushed it under the carpet and hoped no one ever raised the subject again.
Mr. Mayhew chuckled, but it was strained. “All’s well that ends well, eh?”
Vaughan cocked one of his eyebrows.
“Emma may be a pale imitation of Violet, but she’s still better than many of the other misses on the marriage mart,” he continued, digging himself into a deeper hole. “You could have done worse.”
The man had a death wish.
Vaughan could think of no other reason for his actions. Fury thrummed in his veins as he set the book down calmly on the arm of the chair, rose to his feet, and crossed the room. When he stood above Mr. Mayhew, he glared down at him with all of the dislike he’d tried to hide thus far.
“My wife is not a pale imitation of anyone.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Especially not a self-centered creature like Violet. The duchess is beautiful, clever, and compassionate, and if you or Lady Violet dare to disrespect her in her own home again, I will pack you into a carriage and send you away myself.”
Mr. Mayhew stared up at him, wide-eyed.
Before he could say or do anything he might regret, Vaughan stormed out of the library. He stalked through the house, out into the bracing wind, and over to the stables.
