“Confinement.” John’s head went light. Children. That was a frightening thought.
“And of course there is the possibility that she’ll find someone she prefers better.” Dunkeld snorted. “As much as our friend might pretend differently, he is not the pinnacle of desire for all womankind.”
And that thought was the most frightening of all. He remembered how her former stage manager had looked at her. Men would be throwing themselves at her feet, left and right. Of course, it was up to him to keep her so happy she’d want to stay with him. But he couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that if he wanted to keep her, and he did, he needed to make their arrangement definite. Permanent.
He examined the problem from all angles. And the best way to solve it was marriage.
“Right.” He set his glass down and adjusted the knot of his cravat. “That’s it then. I’m getting married.”
His friends raised their glasses.
“About damn time,” Montague said.
“Don’t you need to ask the lady first?” Wil pointed out.
John snorted. “Ask Netta? Give her the chance to say no? How simple do you think I am?” He settled into his chair and steepled his fingers. Now that he’d made the decision, he wouldn’t allow for anything less than success. With Netta, he needed to be clever. And sneaky.
Robert knocked on the open door. “Room for one more?”
John blinked at his brother, an idea forming.
Robert fell back a step. “What? What is that look?”
“You, my dear brother, are going to help me get Netta to the altar.”
“Lovely.” Rothchild tilted his head. “Robert, I don’t suppose you are in need of some companionship. Something warm and adorable to curl up to at night?”
A line creased Robert’s forehead. “What? What in the world does this have to do with my brother’s wedding?”
“Nothing at all.” John glared at Rothchild. “You still haven’t found homes for all those cats you took from Sudworth’s house?”
“Three kittens remain without a home.” Rothchild pressed his lips together. “They shed most abominably.” He shot Robert a hopeful glance. “Although I’m certain they’ll grow out of it.”
“Forget the damn cats.” John stood. He removed the deed from his pocket and smacked it into his brother’s abdomen. “We have a plot to hatch.”
***
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Netta peered out the carriage window, her nerves rising the closer they drew to John’s house. “I had promised to stay out of John’s family affairs.” Not that she necessarily intended to abide by her promise. But John had been acting oddly ever since she’d moved out of his house. She’d thought to wait until things settled between them before interfering.
Robert and Catherine, Dowager Marchioness of Mallen, shared a look. “We’re certain,” Catherine said. “This reconciliation can only occur with your presence.”
“All…right.” Netta shifted on the seat. First her sister had been acting suspicious that morn, and now John’s family. Was there something in the air?
The carriage pulled to a stop and the three of them climbed down. Netta’s heart panged as she swept through the front door. She missed John’s home. The apartments he’d let for her were sumptuous, and she lacked for nothing.
But it didn’t feel like home. Not like this townhouse did.
She removed her hat and handed it to the butler. “Where is this reconciliation to take place?” And how angry would John be with the three of them showing up like an attack force?
“On the gazebo in the garden.” Catherine hobbled forwards, putting her weight heavily on her walking stick.
Netta took the woman’s other arm. “The garden seems an odd location.”
“Not for what we have in mind.” There was a hint of smugness in the woman’s tone.
Netta worried her bottom lip. Just what did they have in store for John?
They made their way outside, Netta scanning the ground for any obstacles for the older woman to avoid. A titter of laughter made her head snap up.
