Tristan missed a beat, recovering himself quickly. “I am touched by your faith in me.”
“I don’t mean it as an insult,” Isaac clarified. “I only mean to say… oh, I don’t know what I mean. But I will say this, my friend. I like Madeline Huxley. She is a good friend to my wife, and I am fond of her myself. Her father is a sweet and kindly gentleman who lacks the social bite to protect his daughter if the need arises. You mustnottake advantage of this.”
Tristan eyed him for a long moment, swirling the liquor around his glass.
“I think perhaps you underestimate her,” he said at last.
Isaac frowned. “Who?”
“Madeline Huxley, of course.”
“Oh. Well, she is a sweet girl. Very shy and very reserved. You must not take advantage of that either.”
“She has fire in her.”
Isaac pursed his lips, eyeing Tristan for a long moment. “I’ve never seen any fire in her. Some ladies really are just sweet, soft creatures, and there is nothing wrong with that.”
Tristan took a thoughtful sip. “Hmm. I’m afraid we must agree to disagree, my friend. At any rate, the marriage must happen. I will not relinquish my hold on Adam, and neither will she. I’m sure my right would be upheld in the courts, but I don’t wish to drag Lady Madeline and her father through such an ordeal. It would not be in my nephew’s best interest either. Madeline and I can marry and go about our lives as before. Nothing needs to change. I don’t require a duchess or an heir, so she need not worry herself about me.”
Isaac’s eyebrows lifted a notch. “You intend to have a white marriage, then? Not consummated?”
“Yes, that seems the simplest choice, I think.”
Isaac was silent for a long moment. He drained the dregs of his drink, then got to his feet and moved thoughtfully over to the decanter again. Tristan could have sworn that he whispered something like ‘good luck’ under his breath.
“I beg your pardon?” Tristan inquired.
Isaac glanced back at him with a faint smile.
“Oh, nothing,” he responded blandly. “More whiskey?”
Tristan wordlessly nodded, narrowing his eyes.
Luck,he thought wryly.I don’t need this stuff. Perhaps my bride-to-be could do with a good dose of it, however. We shall see, I suppose. We shall see.
CHAPTER 6
“With a special license,” the duke said, without warning, “we might be married by the end of the week, Lady Madeline.”
Madeline choked on her toast.
Breakfast at the duke’s house was a much grander affair than she was used to. Generally, she and Papa took a light breakfast together in the morning room before going about their respective days, but the duke insisted upon everybody eating in the dining room. The table was huge and laden with breakfast foods of all kinds.
The previous day and night had passed quickly, with the duke sticking to his study and only joining them briefly at dinner. Madeline would have been pleased to have things go on in that manner, but now here he was, speaking ofmarriage.
She glanced around the table for support. Only the four of them sat at the table, with Adam still sleeping in his crib upstairs, watched over by a diligent, freshly hired nurse. The poor dowager—who had insisted that Madeline call herDorothea—merely glanced nervously between them all. The woman could likely sense that something was wrong, but clearly had no idea what that wrongness might be.
“Why the rush?” Papa inquired, and Madeline smiled at him gratefully. She found herself unequal to speaking at that moment.
“Well, the sooner we wed, the sooner the question of who will raise Adam will be put to rest,” the duke responded evenly. “With your permission, Lady Madeline, I can have the documents ready as soon as possible. What do you say?”
Madeline swallowed thickly. Her throat was raw from the stray toast crumbs. She felt faintly sick.
“Very well,” she answered at last, as if there was really anything else she could say.
Am I wrong about him? Does he really intend to marry me after all?
This was a concerning thought. Tearing her eyes from her plate, Madeline found the duke staring at her, brow furrowed.
