“You know,” Bromton said, “life’s too short to abide swill. Perhaps you should continue on.”
“Actually,” Farring replied cheerfully. “We’ve rooms upstairs. We don’t even have to continue on today.”
“You aren’t staying at Southford?”Thank heaven.
“The chance to witness your humiliation is one thing.” Rayne shuddered. “The dangers of sleeping in a house with unmarried ladies is quite another.”
Farring held up a finger. “One unmarried lady. One, betrothed.”
“Betrothed.” Rayne snorted. “What are the odds?”
Rayne’s tone, and the glacial cold in his eyes, gave Bromton pause. But no—they had settled their differences over his failure to offer for Clarissa. And if Clarissa had secured St. Alden as Markham suggested, Rayne no longer had reason for complaint.
Rayne tapped the table. “What isThe Unmarriageable Maidenlike?”
Perfect.Not that Bromton was going to let on how hard he’d fallen.
Farring bit his lip and squinted. “From what I can recall—and mind you, it’s been five years—she is tolerable enough. Hair like Markham’s. Perhaps plumper in the cheek.”
“She could have grown hideous since.” Rayne’s gaze grew pointed. “Bow-legged. Mole-faced—”
“Have a care,” Farring interrupted. “Spades is turning violet.”
“That bad, is she?” Rayne smiled for the first time. “Is she a screeching harpy, too?”
“Enough, Rayne,” Bromton growled. “Is that how you wish to refer to my future wife?”
“Settle, Brom,” Farring said. “We’re just having a bit of fun.”
Bromton turned to Rayne. “I will take the liberty of rescinding Markham’s invitation if you cannot agree to treat Lady Katherine with respect.”
Rayne flinched.
“Come, Bromton,” Farring said, “You know I—”
“I am not worried about you,” Bromton interrupted.
“Far be it from me to show disrespect.” Rayne glanced out the window. “Weather’s holding. Shall we go?”
“Very well,” Farring sighed. “How long will you be?”
Bromton’s gaze wandered between Farring and Rayne. Not as long as he’d first intended. “Just as long as it takes to wash off the smell of horse.”
Rayne harrumphed. “Could be a week.”
“Go,” Bromton said, “if you wish to go.”
Rayne lifted his hands in mock surrender and disappeared out the door.
“Don’t worry about him,” Farring said. “He and his mistress had quite a row.”
Bromton frowned. “Are you certain he’s not intent on interfering?”
“He wouldn’t dare. Besides, it’s not as if you really care—” Farring stopped abruptly, pulled down his glasses, and studied Bromton’s face. “Good God, Brom, you’re smitten, aren’t you?” Farring started to laugh. “I never thought I’d—”
“Out!” Bromton repeated.
“I’m going!” Farring said, backing away with a lingering chuckle.
