Boiling mad, he ripped the covering off his head with a string of curses. “Bloody vagrants!” He paused when he spied the three men sitting across from him—the Earl of Uxbridge, the Marquess of Overhill, and the Viscount of Cristley.
Cortland’s anger subsided when he realized he hadn’t been set upon by thieves, but he was still annoyed at being handled in such a manner. He brushed at his jacket and smoothed the hair away from his forehead. “Do you mind telling me what that was all about?”
The marquess was the one who answered. “Uxbridge told us that you were to be married in the morning. It wouldn’t be a ceremony unless the groom had a proper stag party the night before.”
Considering Overhill and Cristley had been present at his Erotic-o-rama, he had a good idea of what the two libertines had in mind. Uxbridge, on the other hand, had also been present, but he’d declined to take part in the festivities, choosing instead to brood over a glass of brandy most of the night. He had the feeling that something was bothering the earl, but he hadn’t had the chance to question him about what it might be as yet. And considering Cortland would be leaving for his estate the following afternoon to embark on a lengthy honeymoon, and tonight would be spent at many of the London pubs, he doubted he would find a chance to confront him in the near future. He just prayed that it wasn’t something unforgiveable.
“Although I imagined it would be Uxbridge who would fall prey to the parson’s trap before any of us.” the viscount noted. “You were my last choice, Argyle. Lady Genevieve must be rather convincing, indeed.” He waggled his brows. “Perhaps if you tire of her, I might give her a go?”
It wasn’t often that Cortland allowed anything his licentious friends said to upset him. He generally let it all roll off him like water from a duck’s back. He knew that they teased in good sport, even if most of the laughs were at his expense, or sometimes that of others in society.
But a slight to his future bride could not be allowed to stand. “I would be cautious what you say of the lady in my presence, Cristley.”
The marquess gave a loud guffaw. “Oh, now, you’ve gone and done it! The infamous temper of the Duke of Argyle will soon be unleashed upon you if you dare to speak of his lady love again!”
The two of them continued to laugh, but Uxbridge remained oddly silent. Again, it was quite out of character for him. But then, it wasn’t often that Cortland didn’t join in the merriment as well. This time, he found that he couldn’t stomach their jesting behavior. It caused him to rap on the top of the carriage, which wasted no time drawing to a halt.
“What are you about, Argyle?” the marquess asked with a mocking expression. “Don’t say you aren’t interested in a bit of fun.”
“Oh, I am,” Cortland countered. “But I find that my pleasure is best had elsewhere.” He started to climb out of the coach, but then he paused and glanced at the earl. “Care to join me, Uxbridge?”
The earl got up and followed suit. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Once they had shut the door behind them, Cortland smacked the side of the carriage so that the driver knew that it was safe to continue on.
“You conveniently stopped at White’s,” the earl noted.
“Yes. Quite ingenious of me, wasn’t it?” Cortland shook his head as he headed for the establishment that boasted the familiar bow window. “I admit that I find it difficult to stomach those two this evening. Is something wrong with me?”
The earl smiled as they walked in and took their seats. “I am beginning to wonder if it is the same affliction that affects me.”
Cortland looked at him expectantly.
“Maturity,” he clarified.
Cortland shuddered. “Heaven help us.”
“Indeed,” Uxbridge concurred. When the waiter came over to bring his usual port, he waited for the duke to give him his order.
“Better bring a bottle of your finest Scottish whisky.” Cortland glanced at his companion. “The earl and I have much to discuss this evening.”
Genevieve needed a drink.
After suffering a lengthy, and awkward discussion from her grandmother, about what to expect in the marriage bed, she found that she had more questions than answers. When Cortland had kissed her in the gardens, she was under the impression that he’d approved of her responses, but to hear the Duchess of Cranbrook talk, it would be best if she laid still and waited under cover of darkness for him to come to her.
“Under no circumstances must you act as though you are enjoying the act taking place. It would make the duke wonder whether you are chaste… or a common trollop.”
Genevieve had listened as she had extolled all the virtues expected of a young lady, and then branched out even further into what she would have to do as the duchess of her own household. When her grandmother had started to speak of menus, Genevieve finally had to hold up a hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused.”
“About what?” the duchess had blinked. “It’s not that difficult to comprehend.”
“Indeed not, if you are speaking of proper decorations for the front parlor, but I know all of that. I have been taught everything there is to know about running an aristocratic household.”
“But a duchess has more responsibilities than that of a marchioness.”
“I have no doubt that’s true,” Genevieve said slowly, trying to contain her composure. “But it’s the bedchamber that I need further clarification on. You said I was to lay there and not move. Are you sure that’s the way to do it?”
“My dear,” her grandmother implored firmly. “I have been married for over forty years. I should know how things are done at this point.”
