“Please,” Ramsey remarked, his heart in his words as he humbled himself, bloody, broken and utterly a disaster waiting to happen, before his greatest friend, asking, quite frankly, for the world.
“How?”
Ramsey swallowed, not certain he felt comfortable going into all the details of how he had “not entirely” compromised Grace.
“No, bloody hell, not that. How do you know you love her? I swore to my wife that I’d not let Grace go to someone who merely felt she was a prize, or, in your case, some misbegotten sensation of guilt.”
“Can we please carry on this conversation later?” Lucas asked, still restraining Lord Westhouse, who wasn’t fighting the restraint, but Lucas didn’t look as if he wished to test his compliance.
Ramsey ignored him. “Because.” He grinned in spite of himself, in spite of the absurd situation he found himself in, in spite of the craziness of the situation and the improbability of it. “Because her mind fascinates me, her laugh heals me, and in her utter imperfection, she’s perfection to me.”
Lucas gave a low chuckle.
Heathcliff blinked.
Westhouse snorted, again. This time Lucas booted him. “Shut up. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Well then, I guess it’s decided. That is, if she’ll have you,” Heathcliff added.
“I will be most persuasive,” Ramsey remarked, then realized just how his words could be interpreted.
Heathcliff arched his brow, looking every inch the disparaging father. No one could fault his affection for his ward.
“Now that this is all settled, how do you suggest we get from the garden to the carriages without making the gossip papers tomorrow morning? Not that I’m against it, but I rather thought we were trying to be respectable for our wives and all,” Lucas remarked dryly.
“No, first I need to know why.” Ramsey turned to Westhouse.
Heathcliff gave a curious glance and turned as well.
“Why, why come after me, why all the effort?” Ramsey asked again.
Westhouse glared. “Because it should have been me. The title, the name, everything should have belonged to me, never to you. I kept my name clear of scandal, your name is a byword for it,” he ground out lowly, his words an epithet.
Ramsey started to ask something, but Lucas shook his head, suggesting him to stop.
“Jealousy gets you nowhere, haven’t you learned that yet, Westhouse?” Lucas remarked. “You hit on one very real truth, however. And that’s regarding your name. So far, there are no black marks against it, which is admirable, though wholly unknown as to how you’ve done it with the terrible temperament you possess.” Lucas sighed as if bored. “However, if we walk into the room, all of us mind you, with you in tow, that good name will be no longer, and you’ll be subject to several weeks of speculation as to why you got such a thrashing. And we’re more than happy to circulate some fresh fodder for the gossipmongers every few days or so. . . .” He let the open threat hang in the air for a moment. “Unless you want to merely walk away.”
Ramsey arched his brow. It was quite lovely, having diabolical friends. They had learned several tricks of the trade, since it was a survival skill in managing Temptations.
There was a long pause, and Ramsey watched the steely resolve in Westhouse’s expression harden a moment before he spoke. “I’ll walk,” Westhouse ground out.
“See that the walk takes you out of London for a while,” Lucas added.
“As if that won’t cause talk—”
“Don’t you have an estate that needs your attention?” Ramsey asked, giving him a way out. It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t deserve any sort of aid, but he gave it, regardless. He was, after all, his half-brother. Good Lord, what a scandal . . . and several other details clicked into place. He pushed them aside for the moment as he awaited Westhouse’s final agreement.
Westhouse met his gaze, then nodded slowly. “Very well.”
“I’ll just escort you to your carriage, make sure you get there safely,” Lucas remarked, slowly releasing him.
Westhouse gave him a disbelieving glare, but didn’t fight it. He dusted off his coat, straightened his shoulders slightly, as if adjusting his dignity, and then left the gardens with Lucas following close behind as they wound around the house, avoiding the ballroom.
“Well, that was interesting.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Ramsey remarked, then proceeded to tell Heathcliff all he had missed.
After he was finished, Heathcliff nodded, then tipped his head. “I guess only one question remains.”
“And which one is that?” Ramsey asked.
Heathcliff grinned, raising a hand to set it on Ramsey’s shoulder approvingly. “When are we having a wedding?”
