“And,” Roderick continued, “you did not think to mention this in your letters?”
James handed him a glass. “It was not necessary.”
Roderick accepted it with a grin. “Not necessary. That phrase alone could be carved into your tombstone.”
James sat opposite him, the fire throwing light across the dark paneled library of Langford House. Town life had never appealed to him, but the house served its purpose. It provided proximity to Parliament, to Society, to information. It allowed him to move without the long delay the country demanded.
And it allowed him to be seen.
Seen, but not examined too closely.
Roderick took a sip and winced appreciatively. “Excellent. You have always had good taste in liquor, even when you lack it in most other areas.”
James ignored the jab. “You came because you said you had news.”
Roderick’s brows rose. “You always do that. Drag the conversation back to business as though it might bite you if you let it wander.”
“It might,” James said dryly.
Roderick laughed, then tipped his head. “So. Who is she?”
James’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass. “Miss Eleanor Barker.”
Roderick’s expression sharpened with interest. “St. George’s ward?”
“His eldest daughter. By blood.”
“The pretty one, or the other one?” Roderick asked, immediately.
James’s gaze narrowed. “Do not speak of her that way.”
Roderick blinked, then burst into a grin. “Oh. Now that is fascinating. Itisthe pretty one.”
“It is irrelevant.”
“It is never irrelevant when you sound like you want to murder me for asking.”
James took a sip of brandy. He should not be having this conversation at all. Roderick was precisely the sort of man who turned anything into entertainment, and James had spent years ensuring his life was not entertaining.
Roderick leaned forward. “Tell me at least that you chose her. Do not tell me this is some last-minute effort to save a damsel’s reputation.”
James’s jaw tightened. “Her reputation is not my concern.”
Roderick’s smile turned sharp. “There it is again. Not your concern. And yet you are marrying her.”
James set his glass down with a soft clink. “It is practical.”
Roderick lifted his brows. “Practical?”
“It will serve a purpose,” James said.
“And what purpose,” Roderick asked, “requires a wife?”
James met his gaze, expression flat. “Normalcy.”
Roderick laughed outright. “You?”
James did not smile.
