“My wedding?”
“I don’t know the lady well. Scottish girl was an unexpected treat, but it’s important we don’t judge harshly, eh? I heard she’s a fine dancer. And a fine thing to look at, too, if you don’t mind my saying,” the young man added with a wink.
“I do mind,” Ronan said before he could help himself.
There was a weight pressing into his left shoulder now, sharp and deep, that annoyed him. Even when he rolled his arm, it did nothing to abate the irritation. He tried to ignore while sorting out this unexpected mess.
At his right elbow, Julian was shifting too much to not be in the way. “What is this? How did you hear about it before us?”
Because the man is obviously lying. But what does a gentleman like more than gossip?
“Oh, everyone knows. The young lady announced it today, I suppose, to half of London,” Lord Winthrop added cheerfully.
“You don’t have to do it, you know.” The viscount narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re not the marrying type. I can see that clear as day.”
Tristan glowered over the shorter fellow as he said, “That is hardly your business, Troldiff. Gambling is hardly appropriate for a manner such as this, as are your own manners.”
“I’m telling you that he won’t go through with it,” Troldiff said defensively. “I could very well be right.”
The light in his son’s eyes were fading as he realized the merriment had not reached across the group like he must have anticipated. His smile slipped for only a second before growing strained. “Perhaps we should carry on, Father. We have a meeting in a few minutes and it appears we’ve stopped these fine dukes from other important matters. My apologies for any disrespect, Your Grace,” he said to Ronan pointedly. “I only meant well for you. I hope it shall be a happy and satisfactory match.”
All he could do was nod.
“I don’t think––” But the older man was being led away by the elbow while his son muttered under his breath. Their chattering grew faint as they reached the door and entered.
Although they had taken their leave, Ronan still felt a strong and irritating buzzing around his skull. It felt like his brain was taken over by a beehive. He could hardly focus on anything exceptfor one word. Marriage. Someone thought he was betrothed. Someone else thought she was engaged to him.
I haven’t spoken to any ladies recently enough to confuse anyone. Or is there someone pretending to be me? Perhaps she is mad, escaped from Bedlam.
“Well,” Sebastian said as the rest of the men were silent.
“Don’t,” Ronan instructed. Then he started quickly walking away as he originally planned.
Any hopes of outpacing his friends, however, could not be done. The four of them had yet to turn into the overweight and slow copies of dukes that England could boast of. Someday, perhaps. But currently, all four of them enjoyed various means of exercise and all forms of physical activity. This meant they all could keep up very easily with him.
He thought about running and decided it would be too much effort.
“That was jolly entertaining,” Julian announced loudly. His smile could be heard in his words. “What do you make of that, Ronan? You sly dog, you’ve been about London without us.”
“You’ve all cornered me for every visit in London,” Ronan corrected him. “I haven’t been able to escape any of you for years now.”
Sebastian scoffed. “You’re welcome.”
Waving a hand, Tristan brushed off the distracting conversation. He could always bring them back to the topic. A stern and stoic gentleman once nicknamed the Iron Duke, he could be awfully focused when he desired something.
“We will be happy with whomever you’ve chosen, of course,” Tristan started in a magnanimous tone. “Only we might have liked to have been told.”
“Hardly any of you have confessed your own upcoming nuptials,” Ronan felt the need to call out. He accused them with darted glances because he had hardly been in attendance for any of their weddings.
Only Julian had been in attendance for Tristan’s. And none of them counted Julian’s wedding because the man had escaped her and London to join the Royal Navy the very same day, leaving them all for over a year. As for Sebastian, he too had married his wife in a rush due to an imploding scandal.
The memories made him huff. “You should be so grateful.”
“Then you are to wed?” Sebastian asked.
“No!”
“Winthrop is not the sort of fellow to lie,” Tristan pointed out to everyone. “His main flaw is his habit for making all sorts of ridiculous bets.”
