Page 62 of Impossible
“Very well.” Lucien frowned slightly before turning once more and leading Max to an alcove with chairs. Two ladies were seated, and Max recognized the brunette as Lucien’s younger sister, Lady Cassandra. She was Lady Wexford now.
She, in turn, recognized Max, the color draining from her face before she reached for the other woman’s hand. She had to be Prudence. Pale skinned with blonde hair and light moss green eyes, she possessed an almost ethereal beauty. He now recognized her too—as the woman who’d come to his house seeking employment. And whom he’d tossed out with considerable vitriol.
She’d caught him on a particularly bad day.
Max bowed without waiting for anyone to introduce him. “Good evening, Lady Glastonbury. I am Lord Warfield. Maximillian, I mean. Or Max,” he added quietly, wondering why he suddenly felt nervous.
Perhaps it was the cool, furious way in which she regarded him. She’d not forgiven his horrid behavior, and he didn’t blame her.
“You’ve a great deal of nerve.” This came from a gentleman to Max’s left. Also blond with an athletic build, he stepped close to Max, his hands fisting. His gaze trained on Max, he gritted his teeth. “Lucien, I apologize for the scene I’m about to cause, but I think I must hit Warfield in defense of my wife.”
“Don’t.” Prudence had stood and now moved between her husband and Max, her back to Max. “Ben, you aren’t going to make a scene. Furthermore, it wouldn’t be fair. You’re a pugilist, and Warfield looks as if he couldn’t last ten seconds in the ring.”
Max’s pride stung, but she was probably right. He’d never gained back all the weight he’d lost after being so severely wounded, and he certainly didn’t get enough exercise. He suddenly wanted that to change too.
Prudence pivoted, her eyes glittering as she looked up at Max. “Besides, if anyone is going to hit him, I think it should be me.”
“On that we agree,” Max said. “If you’d like to go outside, I will suffer whatever you wish to do to me.”
“What the devil is going on here?”
Everyone turned. Max knew that voice. His heart leapt.
Ada stood with one hand on her hip. “No one is hitting anyone.”
Ada could scarcely believe her eyes. Max was here. In London. At thePhoenix Club. She immediately assumed something was wrong even as giddy emotion swirled inside her.
She also realized they were seconds away from creating more of a scene than they already were. Summoning a bright smile, she turned her body toward the door leading outside. “Shall we adjourn to the garden? It’s a lovely summer evening.”
Before she could make eye contact with Max, he’d pivoted and started toward the door. Curiosity burned within her, but she’d have to tamp it down until later. Assuming there would be a later with Max. She had to know why he’d come.
Lucien and his sister Cassandra followed Max, and Glastonbury offered Prudence his arm. Ada hastened to move close to Prudence as they walked outside.
“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Ada whispered.
Prudence slid her a wide-eyed stare. “That’s precisely what he deserves.”
Ada couldn’t argue, and yet she had to. “He’s been through a great deal. That doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it explains it, I think.”
Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about what he’s been through?”
“Not much,” Ada admitted as they stepped into the garden. “And I won’t betray his confidence. Trust me when I say I know enough to understand why he’s been such a colossal mess these past few years. I should think that his coming here is a step forward. Can you give him a chance?”
“I will try, but I can’t promise Bennet won’t trounce him.”
“I won’t promise that either,” Glastonbury said, indicating he’d at least heard what Prudence was saying.
Ada stepped forward and pivoted to give the viscount a haughty stare. “I would beg you to remember the compassion and understanding that others have shown you.”
Glastonbury exhaled. “Yes.”
“I will try, Ada,” Prudence said. “So long as Warfield tries too.”
Nodding, Ada motioned for everyone to move to an area near a torch where they could conduct their discussion. They formed a circle, and Ada positioned herself between Max and Prudence.
“I’ll reiterate that there will be no hitting,” Ada announced. “Now, who would like to speak first?”
No one said anything. Cassandra, who could always be counted on to talk, finally spoke. “Lord Warfield has come to town to speak to his half sister, apparently.” Her voice carried disdain, indicating she was clearly in support of her cousin, Prudence. Ada would have been too, but she’d come to know and understand Max. She was thrilled that he’d come to see Prudence.
