“Four of who?” he asked.
“Fourfemales. All of them feral!” Farring held up his fingers and counted. “Philippa, Katerina, Clarissa, Katherine.”
Giles frowned.Clarissa? And Katherine?
“But Katherine doesn’t know Clarissa.”
“Did you think they wouldn’t meet?” Farring threw up his hands. “My sister, of course, had the honor of introductions—there isn’t a scandal she doesn’t touch. Apparently, the four of them have discovered a sisterhood of mythic proportions.” He snorted. “Did I say sisterhood? I meantcoven.”
“Coven.” Giles passed his hand over his face. “Katherine and Clarissa?”
“And Philippa and Katerina—they’ve become positively inseparable. Plays, soirees, shopping on Bond Street, even an impromptu trip to the Hampton maze. Is this what you were trying to accomplish? You, my friend, are a laughingstock.”
Giles’s cheeks darkened. “Of course, I don’t relish the idea of my wife and my former betrothed with their heads tilted together, but better I bear the brunt of Society’s condemnation then either of them.”
Farring scoffed. “You don’t mind that your wife is all they can speak about downstairs?”
Giles flashed him a look. “I haven’t gone downstairs.”
“You haven’t—” Farring stood straight. “You mean you’ve been holed up in these rooms for seven days? What have you been doing?”
Well, he’d meant to join the living. Only he hadn’t.
He’d caught up on correspondence, paged through a few treatises, but mostly he’d stared, concocting and discarding plan after plan, and coming back to the same, relentless truth.
Giles could see the ceiling with his eyes closed at this point. And, none of his plans had solved the essential problem—Giles himself. The Marquess of Bromton, formed in the imperious image of a man who was not his father, but who had passed on his despicable nature nonetheless.
He did not deserve Katherine. He’d set her free. And that was where his part in her story had to end.
He and Katherine were both in hell. He could not save himself, but he could save her—if he kept his distance.
“If you have to work this hard to remember what you’ve been doing, then you must not have accomplished anything of value.” Farring grasped the edge of Giles’s chair. “And while you’ve been diddling your fingers, your wife has become the toast of the Tory set.”
Ah. Pain lanced his ribs. She’d taken his suggestion, then. She’d set out to find a lover.
“The marchioness’s attention is hers to bestow as she pleases.”
Farring stared at him for a long moment. Then, he hit the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. “I’ve always known you to be a vain and prideful sort, but never before have I known you to be a fool. What happened to the man who loved a challenge?”
He thought about Katherine—about the afternoon of passion they’d shared. He’d felt her tenderness. But he’d also felt the depth of her despair. If he had even a modicum of a gentleman within, he would not have treated her body with such abandon. Not when he could still feel remnants of her hate.
“She hates me, Farring. And rightfully so.” He looked away. “I deserve whatever punishment she delivers.”
“You are an ass-headed fool,” Farring growled. “And you haven’t any idea what you are saying.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Youmay deserve whatever punishment Katherine chooses, butshedoes not.”
How dare Farring suggest he was hurting her? “I amnotpunishing my wife.”
“Aren’t you?” Farring asked. “Consider the question, Brom. Should she continue down this path, lucky as I am, evenIcannot summon enough resources to prevent disaster.”
“Disaster?” Giles ran tight fingers over his lips. “All you’ve told me so far is that the marchioness is a triumph among my friends.”
“Dis-as-ter.” Farring towered over him. “Yourfriendshave surely taken note of your absence, and it will not be long before they begin acting as if your absence is permission to court your wife.”
A wave of nausea threatened the contents of his stomach. He pushed away his plate. “I am well aware.”
