“Ah.” Harry shook his head.
“—that proved remarkably stupid,” Adam finished.
“As stupid as sitting up in one’s book room with one’s friend on one’s wedding night?” An ironic twinkle lit Harry’s eyes. “Because that, Adam, is a level of idiocy far and above ordinary stupidity.”
Adam clamped his jaw shut. He would spend his wedding night wherever he chose. “I stood through the wedding, endured the wedding breakfast, and spent an interminable dinner with my flock of new sisters-in-law.”
“Did they stare at you?” Harry asked, unaffected by the cold glare Adam skewered him with. “It would be understandable, you know. Not having been warned.”
“I ought to have written, then?” Adam didn’t hold back the sarcasm in his tone. “I suppose I should have included a postscript with the proposal. ‘By the way, I have a mutilated face that you will be forced to see day in and day out for the rest of your life. Hope that’s not a problem.’”
“Perhaps not those precise words.” Harry had the audacity to sound on the verge of laughing. “I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘I should mention that I am often cranky and will probably bite your head off at every little thing. And it would be best if you came to Falstone a day or so ahead of time so you can get a good look at me before making any of this irrevocable.’ That would have been a good idea, you know.”
“Should I have posed for a miniature, do you think?”
Harry nodded. “Full right profile. And you should have made a list of all the rumors circulating about you, indicating those that were true, those that were exaggerations of the truth, those which were untrue but plausible, and those which were completely absurd.”
Adam allowed his lips to turn up ever so slightly. “There are few rumors that would be considered completely absurd.”
“She ought to have known that ahead of time.” Harry sounded almost scolding. “’Twould have been only fair.”
“She wasn’t exactly forthcoming, either, I will have you know.”
“Forgot to mention something important?” Harry asked. “Like another husband, perhaps? A third limb?”
“Her name is Persephone.” Adam gave the revelation all the emphasis it deserved. Much to his satisfaction, Harry looked taken aback. “A man ought to know a thing like that about his future wife. PersephoneIphigenia. What a bloody ridiculous thing to name a child.”
“So you are spending your wedding night in a chair in your book room because your new wife’s parents had a rather classical taste in names?” Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I’m beginning to think Addington isn’t the only obtuse gentleman in England.”
Adam didn’t care for the insinuation. “My pistols are kept in this room, you know.”
“Do I look worried?” was the flippant response.
Harry never was appropriately subdued by Adam’s threats. Infuriating man.
“I had a chance to speak briefly with your new bride, Adam. She was delightful. Perhaps a little quiet, but that is to be expected considering the upheaval in her life lately. I’ll confess I had expected someone rather long in the tooth, rather long in the face, in all honesty.”
“So did I,” Adam grumbled.
“But she’s a fetching thing,” Harry continued. “Young and quite pretty—” Harry stopped abruptly. He gave Adam a searching look. Adam glared back, daring Harry to make some philosophical remark or assessment. Harry, as always, did just that. “You expected someone desperate and ugly and undesirable. Instead, your bride turned out to be a vast deal more than passable.” Harry shook his head. “Not quite what you bargained for, I’d guess.”
Adam turned his gaze to the fire and kept his jaw firmly clamped. He would not honor that assessment with a response. His marriage was no one’s business but his own.
“So, because she is young and fine looking and appears to be good natured, the poor girl is upstairs, alone, probably wondering what she’s done wrong, and you are down here brooding. Adam, you are completely bacon-brained.”
“I should call you out for that.”
“Do,” Harry answered. “But not tonight. I’m tired.” Harry rose to his feet. “Call me out tomorrow, would you? I’ll most likely pick pistols, by the way. I’d like to see that shoot-the-weapon-out-of-my-hand trick I’ve heard so much about.”
“I ought to lock you in the dungeon,” Adam muttered as Harry made to leave.
“You should,” Harry agreed, walking to the door. “No point having a dungeon if no one is ever consigned to suffer in it.”
“Pack your things and take yourself off at first light.” Adam’s demand emerged half-hearted.
“Am I supposed to walk out of here stooped and defeated now?” Harry turned back to face Adam from his position at the threshold. “I don’t think I would play that role nearly as well as Jones.”
“Don’t mock me.”
