Page 40 of To Woo and to Wed
Hawthorne offered a lazy shrug, taking a sip of brandy. “Probably. He seems to disapprove of most things.” A quick, private smile flashed across his face.
James raised an eyebrow at this, but refrained from comment as he crossed to seat himself next to West, setting his half-full tumbleron the card table. James was perfectly aware of the reasons that Hawthorne—who had grown up on the estate of the ducal seat in Kent, the son of the stable master—had wished so badly to flee the village of his youth, and why he’d leapt at the opportunity to serve as his childhood friend’s valet.
West, who had his own suspicions as to how, precisely, his valet and butler might or might not be entertaining themselves, carefully did not look at his brother. So long as the household was running smoothly, he had little cause for complaint.
“Interesting you should mention entertainment, Hawthorne,” James said, taking a leisurely sip of his brandy and ignoring the cards West had dealt him. “Violet and I were fortunate enough to have someentertainmentof our own this afternoon, when we ran into West and his betrothed on Rotten Row.”
West cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. We were delighted to see you.”
Both James’s and Hawthorne’s eyebrows lifted at that.
“It was a nice day for a ride,” West offered.
The eyebrows inched higher.
“I think I may have had a touch of sunstroke?” he suggested feebly.
“That would go a long way toward explaining it,” James agreed cheerfully.
Hawthorne was beginning to look mildly put out. “What on earth did I miss whilst I was spending my afternoon polishing his lordship’s riding boots?”
“I waswearingmy riding boots,” West said testily. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that my jacket for this evening hadn’t been pressed.”
“Appalling,” Hawthorne agreed, reclining in his seat with the insouciance of a man who was comfortable in the knowledge that his employer was also one of his best friends. West’s father haddisapproved of this arrangement from the start, and at moments like this, West could almost think that his father had a point.
Almost.
“West and Lady Fitzwilliam went for a ride in the park and gave a convincing performance as a pair of children acting in a pantomime of how they think an affianced couple should behave,” James informed Hawthorne.
Hawthorne leveled his dark-brown gaze on West. “Fascinating.” He drew the word out into an improbable number of syllables.
“Isn’t it just,” James agreed. “Violet and I were discussing it and she could not help but observe that something seemed decidedly odd about the entire exchange.”
“And so she ordered you to interrogate me?” West asked.
“Not in so many words.” James took a sip of his drink, and settled more comfortably in his chair. “She merely asked if I might be amenable to taking advantage of the invitation my beloved brother had already extended, and perhaps conduct a… subtle investigation.”
“If this is your idea of a subtle investigation, then I do not think you’ve a bright future as a private inquiry agent,” West said darkly.
James’s smile was satisfied. “Which is why I thought instead to simply ask you what in the name of hell is going on.”
“A questionIhave also been wishing to ask,” Hawthorne said, raising his glass in a toast. He adopted an expression of angelic innocence. “But, naturally, I would never presume to question his lordship’s personal affairs.”
“Oh?” West inquired. “When did you have this admirable change of principle, Hawthorne?”
James let out a chuckle at that, and Hawthorne offered West a cheeky grin. West rested his elbows on the card table, rubbing at histemples. Did he feel the beginning of a headache coming on? Was this a common side effect of acquiring fraudulent fiancées and then engaging in elaborate displays of soon-to-be-marital affection in front of one’s family and friends?
Despite his best attempts at bad humor, however, he found that he couldn’t quite manage it. And furthermore, he realized in a rush, he badly wanted to tell someone the truth. He hadn’t appreciated what a burden this ruse had become, until he was faced with the prospect of dispelling it.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, considering how best to explain the tangle he found himself in. And so he decided to tell the truth.
“Sophie asked me to help her feign an engagement so that her sister would agree to marry Blackford.”
Whatever James and Hawthorne had been expecting, it clearly hadn’t been this; they both sat wearing identical expressions of slack-jawed astonishment.
At last, James muttered a curse under his breath. “Violet is going to be unbearably smug about this.”
“Sheknew?”
