Page 53 of The Baron Takes a Bet
“Yes, and I’ve tried my hardest to explain that, but… well, it’s become more complicated, I’m afraid. Since neither of you appears to be incompetent, we couldn’t claim that. So, the only option left would be to claim… well…”
The lawyer scanned between Gavin and Holly, unwilling to speak, but Gavin had lost all patience from the day, and this was undoubtedly the last thing he wanted to entertain. Mr. Armstrong was out of his bloody mind if he thought Gavin would claim impotence.
Standing up, he took the napkin draped over his lap and tossed it on the table.
“I’ll take the rest of my supper in my room,” he announced, motioning to one of the footmen. He turned to Holly, who was trying to keep her face blank. “We’ll discuss our other options later.”
The lawyer’s eyes bulged as Gavin walked down the table.
“But my lord, what will you have me do?” he asked, turning in his seat.
“I’ll have you finish your meal and see yourself out.”
“About the marriage, my lord.”
“Find another way.”
“But if you only claimed impotency—”
“Mr. Armstrong, I’ve had a trying day and the last thing I wish to discuss, with you or anyone else, is my potency. And asI refuse to claim it anyway, you will simply have to find another way.”
“But, sir—”
Gavin flung his hand over his shoulder as he left the dining room, irritation bubbling throughout his body.
Chapter Eleven
Holly watched Gavinleave the dining room without a look back and frowned. She hadn’t expected him to be so out of sorts over Mr. Armstrong’s information. In fact, she had thought it somewhat humorous, if unfortunate, and had expected Gavin’s good humor to make light of the situation. She had even looked forward to seeing his amusement, in hopes to salvage some joy out of this day. Aunt Marnie had been nothing short of a headache all day, insisting on accompanying Holly and her sister. Holly had been amazed at how much she missed Gavin since his departure that morning. When Mr. Armstrong had informed her about the routes to applying for the annulment, she had laughed, though it had been more out of shock than amusement. It was ridiculous and a part of her thought to tease Gavin a bit, but seeing the tension in his gait that evening gave her pause. He was not his usual self, and she was surprised how much that affected her. She wanted to help him but wasn’t sure how to do so.
The rest of dinner was uneventful, and Mr. Armstrong left before the last course, apparently uncomfortable with being the reason Gavin retired early. Marnie didn’t help either, with her snide comments about how Mr. Armstrong had to be one of the worst lawyers England had ever seen. Katrina quickly removed herself from everyone’s presence, retiring once the last plate wascleared. Since Marnie insisted on tending to her sewing in the parlor, Holly decided to retire too.
Only she wasn’t tired, and her concern for Gavin continued to grow. Though he left the dining room without much of an argument, Holly had sensed that he had barely kept his composure.
Reaching her room, she debated checking on him as Anne helped her undress and change into her night clothes. He certainly didn’t need to be worried about, and she was hardly a confidant of his, but something prompted her to do so.
Dressed in a lace-trimmed nightgown, Holly took the heavy velvet robe on the inside hook of her wardrobe, one of the comforts that John had supplied for his guests. It was peridot green with a tropical bird pattern and far heavier than any of her gowns. Though technically undressed, she tied the gold rope belt around her waist and felt confident that there was more than enough fabric wrapped around her so it wouldn’t be indecent.
Knocking gently at the door that separated her rooms from his, she waited to be called in, but the call never came. Concerned, she rapped again, and when he didn’t answer, she nearly lost her nerve.
Turning to lean her back against the door, her gaze rose to the ceiling, and she sighed. What was she doing? Obviously, he didn’t wish to be bothered… yet they had much to discuss. He even said before leaving the dining room that they would speak later. Well, was it not later?
Convinced that her thin argument was strong enough to be forgiven for her intrusion, she inhaled deeply, turned back to face the door, and gripped the brass handle. Pushing forward, she opened the door and peered into the room.
The bedchamber was dark, save the fireplace before which rested a set of chairs, one occupied by Gavin, who had one leg slung over the armrest while his hand held an empty glass ashe gazed into the flames. Holly frowned slightly as she came into the room and realized that he was in a state of half-dress. He wore his shirtsleeves and grey trousers but nothing else. His bare feet gave her the oddest sensation of intimacy. She had never seen a grown man’s bare feet before.
Gavin turned slightly, showing only his profile as her attention snapped to his face. He appeared neither angry nor upset, but the room atmosphere felt heavy and sad.
“Gavin?” she said cautiously, stopping as she reached the foot of the large bed.
“Holly,” he answered, his tone odd.
She tilted his head. Was he drunk?
“Are you well?”
He turned his wrist, glass still grasped in his fingers.
“As well as possible, I suppose.”
