“Oh? And what did I do?” Lord Effingham’s feigned innocence made David want to gag.
“The Countess of Albemarle, or so I’m told.”
His lordship had the gall to grin. “Well, a man is only a man. Am I wrong? And Lady Maude was such a tempting morsel. Any man would stray from the straight and narrow when presented with such a diversion.”
“Untrue.” David was starting to see red. This conversation needed to end.
“Ah yes. I forgot. Your brother said you haven’t been with a woman since the accident that killed your wife and her paramour. A footman, wasn’t he? How humiliating for you.”
At the mention of his wife, something within him snapped. David leapt to his feet, spilling his drink and nearly knocking over the table. “Watch your tongue, cur, or it will be pistols at dawn.”The world would be an infinitely better place without this piece of refuse.
Lord Effingham leaned back and smiled. “Ah. Touched a sore spot, did I? Are you sure little Timothy is even yours?”
Bastard. David’s voice rose. He didn’t care who heard him. “Leave now, or you’re a dead man.”
Lord Effingham raised his hands in a placating gesture that didn’t match the obvious triumph in his expression. “Now, now. I meant no offense. I just wanted to have a friendly conversation about a matter of mutual importance.”
“You had every intention of offending, and it worked. Name the place. I’ll blow a nice hole in that ridiculous waistcoat of yours.” Blood roared in his ears, and he ignored the little voice in the back of his head that reminded him of the consequences if he lost this duel.
Effingham gulped, and his hands shook a bit as he held them higher. “A misunderstanding, my lord. I was merely trying to tell you something to your benefit. There’s no need for such dramatics.” His oily voice quavered ever so slightly as he spoke. It made David’s stomach churn. Not only was the man a fop, but he was also a cowardly one as well.
“Then you don’t accept my challenge, coward?”
“Not when I’m certain it was made in jest.” They were drawing attention now. Quite a few gentlemen had set down their drinks and were staring at the commotion.
The audience brought David back to his senses. What was he doing? He had a son, for heaven’s sake. He couldn’t go dueling this fool. If he lost, who would protect Timothy from Charles’ dissolute neglect?
Loathe as he was to concede anything to this man, Lord Effingham had offered him a way out of his folly. If he had any wisdom at all, he would take it.
“Yes. A jest,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now leave before I lose my sense of humor.”
Lord Effingham pressed his lips together in a thin line and rose. “Very well. Don’t heed my warning, but she’s damaged goods. And I intend to get back what is rightfully mine.”The coward turned and scurried from the room like the rat he was, leaving David to seethe.
The onlookers turned back to their own tables, whispering behind their hands and glancing his way.
David picked up his glass from the floor, set it on the table. Suddenly, a drink at White’s—even a particularly indulgent and delicious one—didn’t seem so soothing after all. He might as well head home and give up on trying to convince himself that everything was going to be all right.
What if Lord Effingham was telling the truth, however unlikely that might have been? What if hehadcompromisedClarissa? What if she still harbored a tendre for that bastard? What if history repeated itself and he fell for Clarissa only to have his heart broken a second time?
He didn’t want to suspect her, but he hadn’t wanted to suspect Laura either. It could all happen again if he wasn’t careful. He had to shut her out at all costs, no matter how much his damaged heart might yearn to trust again. There was too much at stake.
The tenuous peace he had made with his fate had crumbled to dust, and during the entire ride home he could do nothing but wallow in dread and lingering fury. As his carriage clattered home, he closed his eyes and envisioned the offending organ turning to granite, bit by bit. Yes. That was what he needed to be—cold, hard stone. No more inconvenient flutters of affection. No more daydreams of Clarissa’s lips. He would not let her in, no matter how hard she tried to win him over.
Chapter 6
As Clarissa caught sight of David waiting beside one of the columns in front of St. George’s Church, relief flooded her. “He’s here,” she murmured under her breath.
Arthur paused and turned to face her. “Of course, he’s here, silly goose. Papa would eat him alive if he didn’t show up for the reading of the banns.”
A part of her she rarely acknowledged had feared he might not come. He’d left her house so abruptly on Tuesday! What was she to think? But there he stood with those delightful broad shoulders and fiery golden eyes. His tight smile, as she approached, didn’t exactly fill her with confidence, but he was here. And that was all that mattered.
“Well, go on then. Fly off to your betrothed.” Arthur touched her shoulder and gave her a little nudge in David’s direction.
“Wish me luck,” she said over her shoulder as she started toward her future husband.
“You don’t need it,” Arthur called after her.
Ha!If only. She needed her luck now more than ever. With one engagement destroyed, her reputation would be in ruins forever if this one fell to pieces too. But she had to keep her spirits up and put on a good show, or everyone would know how agitated she was beneath all her good cheer.
