“With a little Scottish motivation.” Stone lifted his glass meaningfully.
“That’s priceless.” Chase was laughing. “Getting her drunk so that she would marry you.”
“Damn sight more respectful than how you landed your wife.” Stone sent a meaningful glance in Westerley’s direction. Chaswick’s nuptials were likely less conventional than his and Tabetha’s had been.
“Touché.”
The three men lifted their glasses to one another, acknowledging the eventual good fortune that had come along with what could have been a most unfortunate situation, and then fell silent as they sipped their drinks thoughtfully.
“So—this marriage—it was only for her protection, then. I suppose you’ll be seeking an annulment?” Chase mused. “If you have troubles, no doubt Blackheart can pull the necessary strings.”
Stone had anticipated having this discussion with Westerley alone. He’d had every intention of confessing that an annulment wasn’t possible.
Furthermore, what kind of a man lied to the church?
“I’ll need to speak with… Lady Tabetha,” he answered.
Westerley was watching him closely. Stone could give her an annulment, if it was something she wanted. He wasn’t certain that it was.
It couldn’t be.
He pictured her selecting pastries in the store, laughing up at him, dressing Archie in those ridiculous dresses, naming her chess pieces.
But she could also be serious. Sensitive. Asking about his family. Listening to his boxing stories. And last night…
Beneath him, above him, begging him to love her.
And he did! God help him, he did!
A middle-aged woman arrived and set baskets of bread around the table. “Rabbit stew and potatoes will be out shortly.” She glanced at the almost empty bottle sitting in front of Chaswick and raised her brows questioningly.
They all nodded.
“The ladies upstairs requested their meal be sent up to Lord Westerley’s chamber and asked me to pass along that they are disinclined to be interrupted for some time.” She winked and reached into her deep apron. “Lady Westerley sends this along with their apologies.” The flask she withdrew was a familiar one.
“Many thanks to my wife.” Westerley grinned and flipped a coin in the woman’s direction. “And you as well, Madam.”
Stone dared not imagine what Tabetha was telling her sister-in-law and her sister. He was going to have to get her alone. If she refused to talk with him, he had another, much more satisfying method to resolve their situation.
One he doubted she would resist.
But, damnit, he’d have to get her alone first, and from the sound of it, the ladies didn’t intend to allow him near her anytime soon.
“Peter told us to give you hell for failing to give him a proper send-off. He left for Brighton the evening before we left London.” Chaswick bit into a piece of the crusty bread. “Bethany said he was seen driving Lady Starling last week.”
His brother?And Lady Starling?
Stone glanced at Chase questioningly. Because before marrying Lady Bethany, Chaswick had had something of a torrid affair with the notorious widow at Westerley’s mother’s house party.
“Likely, it was only out of courtesy.” Chase pinched his lips together. He obviously had more to say but was unwilling to discuss the widow in front of Westerley,his wife’s brother.
Peter, who’d dedicated most of his life to learning and playing the cello, was likely the most innocent amongst the lot of them.
“Courtesy or not, it won’t amount to anything,” Stone said. “The apprenticeship in Brighton isn’t over until the holidays. And after that, my mother suspects he’ll be asked to tour with Sir Bickford-Crowden himself.”
“Of course, your mother would say that.” Westerley laughed.
But no one contradicted the prediction. Peter played his instrument like he’d been born to it. He’d even named the damn thing, by god.Rosa.
