Page 76 of My Hellion, My Heart
“I’m not referring to Rose,” Henry confessed after a beat. “She decided we didn’t suit, after all.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Henry shook his head. “Don’t be. It was a farfetched scheme to solve a ridiculously inconvenient matter of a stipulation on my title.”
“So of whom do you speak?” Hawk asked, humor alight in his eyes. “Or is the young lady’s identity of a delicate nature?”
“Clearly not, especially if it has a wager against it,” Henry muttered, his eyes darting a vicious glower to where even more young men had congregated since his last look around that bloody book.
“Ah, of course.” Hawk nodded, following his stare. “Her Grace did remark that she thought there was something between the two of you at the dinner at Worthington Abbey. Women have a certain intuition with that sort of thing. Might I assume that an announcement is in the works?”
“One that can’t come soon enough,” Henry said with a nod. “I intend to speak with North and Lady Langlevit on my return to Essex this afternoon. Then I plan to chuck that wager book into the fire.”
The duke barked a laugh and leaned in, raising his glass and keeping his voice low. “Then may I be the first to offer my unofficial congratulations to your forthcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you, though the lady and her guardians still have to accept.”
“Lord and Lady Northridge should find no fault with your offer,” Hawk said. “I think Lady Northridge wants those wager sheets destroyed as much as you do. Things have gotten out of hand.” He signaled the dealer for another card. “As far as your Princess Irina, if she’s anything like Briannon, I can only wish you fortitude and forbearance, and an endless supply of patience.”
The devoted look on Hawk’s face was at odds with his words. It was clear that he adored his wife even if he claimed she did try his patience, and it was also clear that Hawk would not have it any other way. Henry thought of the warmth he’d noticed between them, much like the connection he’d seen between North and Lana. Both strong men, North and Hawk had chosen to wed equally strong women, and they seemed more content than they’d ever been.
As much as Henry joked about ripping his hair out, he knew he would not change one thing about Irina, either…not her spirit, her daring, or her spontaneous joie de vivre. He liked her cheeky humor and her intelligent, albeit argumentative, opinions. He especially liked that she did not conform to what society expected of a lady. No such debutante could have run his course and completed it, nor would she have expressed an unabashed desire to do it again.
No, he wanted her exactly as she was. Fearless and unapologetic.
Henry’s eyes fell on a tall newcomer who joined the throng, and the noise rose rapidly upon his arrival. His fingers gripped the snifter as pieces of the conversation reached where they sat.
“We have a new winner!”
“Well done, mate!”
“It still needs to be verified.”
“Christ,” he muttered as Hawk shot him a sympathetic smile over the table. Henry nodded to the factotum to finalize his account. He’d had enough, and clearly, the raucous celebration of whatever new favor Lady Irina had given away was not about to conclude any time soon.
“Why, there’s the man who can verify the wager was met,” a familiar voice drawled, making the air in Henry’s lungs compress into a tight aggravated space. “Sitting right over there. Lord Langlevit, in fact.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed on the approaching horde with Lord Remi at its center. “Verify what?” he growled.
“That Lord Remi escorted Lady Irina into the arbor at Lord and Lady Dinsmore’s soiree,” a young buck said in a bawdy tone, making Henry instantly want to knock the man’s teeth into the back of his throat. “The winnings are one thousand pounds, but we must have proof. A witness must confirm the claim!”
A bloody fortune, Henry thought.
Henry had no intention of willingly besmirching Irina’s reputation by confirming any such intimate tête-à-tête with Remi in the garden. A muscle tensed in his jaw as he set down his cards and folded his murderous hands into his lap. A brawl in the middle of White’s would not be a wise idea, though every nerve in him screamed for such satisfaction.
“I witnessed nothing of the sort,” he said coolly.
Remi’s stare never wavered from his, though a challenging smile played about his lips. “Is that so?” he said. “I seem to recall you finding us in a very compromising position when you announced that Lady Dinsmore was looking for her delectable young charge.”
Henry’s chair scraped back on the carpet, and the noise died down to hushed whispers. He rose, menace fairly rippling off of him. The duke stood as well, dispersing most of the closest spectators with a lethal glance. “I caution you, Lord Remi, to reconsider your words,” Henry said in a deadly quiet voice. “The lady’s honor is in question.”
Remi laughed, unperturbed. “Alas, that was not the bet, otherwise it would be a compromising situation indeed, would it not, Lord Langlevit?” He waved a careless arm as if unconcerned for his own safety. “Luckily the wager was only for a private and delightfully chaste stroll with the lady in the arbor.” He paused. “Which you can confirm, of course, upon your word as a gentleman.”
Henry tensed, every muscle within him itching to lay the arrogant man flat on his dandified back.
“Never you mind,” someone shouted from the rear of the gathering. “Lord Everton saw Lord Remi and Lady Irina enter the arbor from the balcony and can corroborate Lord Remi’s claim. The wager is won.”
The crowd dispersed, but Remi remained standing before Henry, triumph in his eyes for a long moment as tension spiked between the two men. He leaned in, his voice whisper soft. “You don’t know her like I do.”
