Page 121 of The English Duke
He’d met his friend in London on only two occasions. Why hadn’t he made the trip to Griffin House before? Why, for that matter, had he not invited Matthew to Sedgebrook? Probably because he’d thought there was all the time in the world in which to do so.
Time was getting away from him once again.
He opened the crate. Someone had burned the nameGoldfishinto the wood.
He carefully removed the top and set it aside. The copper vessel gleamed as if it had been recently polished. He knew, from working beside Martha, that she saw to every detail. She noticed things he wouldn’t have seen.
Her mind was as fascinating as her character.
“I wasn’t at liberty to speak before,” Reese said from behind him.
Jordan turned, regarding the man he’d known since his school days. He had a great many acquaintances, but few friends. Today, he had one less.
“Is that why you’re here? To plead your case? It’s too late for that. Or perhaps you’re here to explain. While you’re at it, perhaps you could share why the woman I’m to marry today was in your bed this morning.”
He’d never seen that startled look on Reese’s face before, and it was the only enjoyable moment in this scenario.
“Perhaps we could revisit your definition of friendship one of these days, Reese. In my world, it doesn’t mean stealing. Should I check the silver at Sedgebrook?”
“You know damn well I didn’t steal anything from you.”
Jordan marched on him, finding it remarkable that his anger kept him advancing on Reese without an appreciable limp. Evidently all he needed to not appear lame was to be enraged.
A foot away from Reese he stopped.
“You don’t realize, do you? If you steal from her, you steal from me. If you hurt her, you hurt me. Damage her in any way and it’s as if you’ve taken a sword to me.”
“So it’s like that?” Reese asked.
“It’s like that,” Jordan said, finding it strange that articulating his feelings for Martha had suddenly come so easily.
Yet once the words had been spoken, they wouldn’t be beaten back. They demanded to live with the same fervency he had this past year.
“Yet you’re still going to marry Josephine?”
He had no intention of voicing his plans for this afternoon, especially not to Reese.
“I wish you well, then,” Reese said, turning and leaving the cottage.
Jordan stared after his friend. An abrupt farewell, but perhaps not even that. In a few weeks he’d probably receive a letter from Reese filled with gossip about the War Office and tales he shouldn’t be sharing. There’d be no reference to this morning’s actions or this scene in the cottage.
Reese had crossed over the line, even though he probably had no idea he’d done so. Jordan would be pleasant to the man in the future, but he could never again trust him.
A few minutes later, he replaced the top of theGoldfish’s crate and left the cottage.
Josephine had made no secret of her plans, informing Jordan and others in her family exactly what would transpire on the day of the wedding.
For the first time, he was grateful for her self-absorption. She’d decided her grandmother would go on ahead, accompanied by her sister while she rode alone like a queen in the more luxurious carriage.
Jordan waylaid her before she could enter the vehicle.
“If we could speak,” he said, placing his hand on her elbow. He turned and walked up the short flight of steps to the main entrance of Griffin House again, giving her no chance to refuse.
“Jordan, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice filled with outraged indignation. “We’ll be late for our own wedding.”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding, Josephine.”
She pulled her arm free, facing him.
