Page 33 of Tamed By a Duke
"Gemini. I see that love has not tamed your temper," Montague replied, raising his eyebrows at Hugh's testy tone, "But at least you have tamed your shrew. Your names have been splashed across the papers daily; her father must be convinced of the suit by now."
"Take that back."
Hugh's voice cracked like a whip, causing silence to fall not only at his table, but at the tables nearby. Montague blinked twice, his handsome face a picture of confusion. The marquess had, Hugh knew, merely been jesting, but anger burned within him at his description of Miss Drew.
"What am I taking back?" Montague whispered, casting a concerned glance at the other tables, where several club members were ostentatiously pretending not to listen.
"Miss Drew is no shrew," Hugh answered shortly, careful to keep his own voice low. He would not like for word of this to reach anyone's ears, least of all Charlotte's.
"You described her as such yourself," Montague frowned, "Though I beg forgiveness for any insult I have caused. I was merely echoing your own sentiments."
"Well, I was mistaken," Hugh conceded, inwardly flinching. Had he really called Charlotte a shrew? How callous he had been to assign a character trait to her that had been invented by gossips. "Miss Drew is quite the charming young lady. Yes, she is opinionated, and rather headstrong, but she is not deserving of such a moniker."
"I see," Montague replied, as in vain he tried to hide a smile behind his hand.
"You see what?" Hugh replied irritably, picking up the glass of brandy that the footman had deposited before him. He had revealed nothing; he had simply defended a lady's honour, as chivalry demanded.
"He sees what I see," Orsino answered, with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Your courting of Miss Drew has turned from a lark into a love-song."
"As a duke I am bound to uphold the laws of propriety and I could not have Montague insult a lady in my presence," Hugh replied with a sniff.
"You weren't so bound by propriety last month, when you cast up your accounts in Pickering Place," Montague countered.
"If I recall correctly, I was afflicted with a terrible ague that evening," Hugh said, "And I also recall you two saying that you would never speak of it again. Are we comrades in arms, or are we not?"
"Comrades till the end," Orsino answered with gusto.
"Good, then you can both stop plaguing me with nonsense and have the manners to move the conversation on to other topics."
His two friends duly obliged, with Orsino giving a vague appraisal of work he was undertaking for Whitehall.
"Lord Havisham is in Vienna, trying to weed out spies, and his son is helping me with coded responses," Orsino told them in a whisper.
Havisham? Where had Hugh heard that name before? Of course, one of Miss Drew's friends was a Havisham—Victoria, or was it Viola?—and the lad that Orsino referred to must be the same boy that Hugh had seen in the park that day. The one who had caused Charlotte to laugh so gaily.
"What's he like," Hugh grunted, "The Havisham lad, does he seem trustworthy?"
His concerns for the safety of Orsino's mission were matched only by a ridiculous sense of competition toward Havisham, which he naturally did not give voice to.
"He's a good lad," Orsino shrugged, and Hugh felt his shoulders sink with disappointment. Though what had he been hoping for, he wondered? Orsino was unlikely to declare young Mr Havisham as impotent, or better yet, a confirmed eunuch who posed no threat to Hugh.
"Odd as a box of frogs," Jack added as an afterthought, "But sound enough to do the job."
Odd? It was hardly impotent, but Hugh felt satisfied enough with the assessment of Mr Havisham's character to relax back into his seat.
"What is his sister called?" Hugh queried, feeling a little bit irritated that he could not recall her name, for it was on the tip of his tongue. "Victoria?"
"Violet," Orsino answered, and to Hugh's surprise, his gigantic, beast of a friend blushed like a green-girl fresh out of the schoolroom.
"Oh, Lud."
It was Montague who commented on Orsino's unusual reaction. The handsome marquess cast both his friends a scowl, his expression etched with disappointment.
"We're supposed to be comrades in arms," he grumbled, giving them both a reproving stare as he echoed Hugh's earlier sentiments, "Now here you both are, with puppy-eyes and silky soft hearts. I won't stand for it if you both get leg-shackled and leave me behind."
"I don't know what you're talking about, man," Orsino retorted, adopting one of his fearsome glares, "I just said the chit's name."
"And blushed like a debutant," Montague muttered, though it was more to himself, for Orsino could be quite fearsome when he put his mind to it.
