โฆ rather ridiculous writing to you, but I suppose after so many months in the East, my perspective on death and the afterlife has slid into something that would have sent Vicar MacLeish screaming for the hills. So far from England, it is almost possible to pretend that you are still alive and able to receive this note, just like the many I sent from France. But then someone calls out to me, and I am reminded that I am Kilmartin and you are in a place unreachable by the Royal Mail.
โfrom the Earl of Kilmartin to his deceased cousin, the previous earl, one year and two months after his departure for India, written to completion and then burned slowly over a candle
It wasnโt that heย enjoyedย feeling like an ass, Michael reflected as he swirled a glass of brandy at his club, but it seemed that lately, around Francesca at least, he couldnโt quite avoid acting like one. There she had been at her motherโs birthday party, so damnedย happyย for him, so delighted that he had uttered the wordย loveย in her presence, and he had simply snapped.
Because he knew how her mind worked, and he knew that she was already thinking madly ahead, trying to select the perfect woman for him, and the truth wasโฆ
Well, the truth was just too pathetic for words.
But heโd apologized, and although he could swear up and down that he wasnโt going to behave like an idiot again, he would probably find himself apologizing again sometime in the future, and she would most likely just chalk it all up to a cranky nature on his part, never mind that heโd been a model of good humor and equanimity when John had been alive.
He downed his brandy. Bugger it all.
Well, heโd be done with this nonsense soon. Sheโd find someone, marry the bloke, and move out of the house. They would remain friends, of courseโ Francesca wasnโt the sort to allow otherwiseโbut he wouldnโt see her every day over the breakfast table. He wouldnโt even see her as often as he had before Johnโs death. Her new husband would not permit her to spend so much time in his company, cousinly relationship or no.
โStirling!โ he heard someone call out, followed by the usual slight cough which preceded, โKilmartin, I mean. So sorry.โ
Michael looked up to see Sir Geoffrey Fowler, an acquaintance of his from his days at Cambridge. โNothing of it,โ he said, motioning to the chair across from him.
โSplendid to see you,โ Sir Geoffrey said, taking a seat. โI trust your journey home was uneventful.โ
The pair exchanged the most basic of pleasantries until Sir Geoffrey got to the point. โI understand that Lady Kilmartin is looking for a husband,โ he said.
Michael felt as if heโd been punched. Never mind the atrocious floral display in his drawing room; it still sounded rather distasteful coming from someoneโs lips.
Someone young, reasonably handsome, and obviously in the market for a wife.
โEr, yes,โ he finally replied. โI believe she is.โ
โExcellent.โ Sir Geoffrey rubbed his hands together in anticipation, leaving Michael with the overwhelming desire to smack his face.
โShe will be quite choosy,โ Michael said peevishly.
Sir Geoffrey didnโt seem to care. โWill you dower her?โ
โWhat?โ Michael snapped. Good God, he was now her nearest male relative, wasnโt he? Heโd probably have to give her away at her wedding.
Hell.
โWill you?โ Sir Geoffrey persisted. โOf course,โ Michael bit off.
Sir Geoffrey sucked in his breath appreciatively. โHer brother offered to do so as well.โ
โThe Stirlings will care for her,โ Michael said stiffly.
Sir Geoffrey shrugged. โIt appears the Bridgertons will as well.โ
Michael felt his teeth grinding to powder.
โDonโt look so dyspeptic,โ Sir Geoffrey said. โWith a double dowry, sheโll be off your hands in no time. Iโm sure youโre eager to be rid of her.โ
Michael cocked his head, trying to decide which side of Sir Geoffreyโs nose could better take a punch.
โSheโs got to be a burden on you,โ Sir Geoffrey continued blithely. โThe clothes alone must cost a fortune.โ
Michael wondered what the legal ramifications were for strangling a knight of the realm. Surely nothing he couldnโt live with.
โAnd then whenย youย marry,โ Sir Geoffrey continued, obviously unaware that Michael was flexing his fingers and measuring his neck, โyour new countess wonโt want her in the house. Canโt have two hens in charge of the household, right?โ
โRight,โ Michael said tightly.
โVery well, then,โ Sir Geoffrey said, standing up. โGood to speak with you, Kilmartin. I must be off. Need to go tell Shively the news. Not that I want the competition, of course, but this isnโt likely to stay a secret for very long, anyway. I might as well be the one to let it out.โ
Michael frosted him with a glare, but Sir Geoffrey was too excited with his gossip to notice. Michael looked down at his glass. Right. Heโd drunk it all. Damn.
He signaled to a waiter to bring him another, then sat back with every intention of reading the newspaper heโd picked up on the way in, but before he could even scan the headlines, he heard his name yet again. He made the minimum effort required to hide his irritation and looked up.
Trevelstam. Of the yellow roses. Michael felt the newspaper crumple between his fingers.
โKilmartin,โ the viscount said.
Michael nodded. โTrevelstam.โ They knew each other; not closely, but well enough so that a friendly conversation was not unexpected. โHave a seat,โ he said, motioning to the chair across from him.
Trevelstam sat, setting his half-sipped drink on the table. โHow do you fare?โ he asked. โHavenโt seen you much since your return.โ
โWell enough,โ Michael grunted. Considering that he was being forced to sit with some ninny who wanted to marry Francescaโs dowry. No, make that her double dowry. The way gossip spread, Trevelstam had probably already heard the news from Sir Geoffrey.
Trevelstam was slightly more sophisticated than Sir Geoffreyโhe managed to make small talk for a full three minutes, asking about Michaelโs trip to India, the voyage back, et cetera et cetera et cetera. But then, of course, he got down to his true purpose.
โI called upon Lady Kilmartin this afternoon,โ he said.
โDid you?โ Michael murmured. He hadnโt returned home since leaving that morning. The last thing he had wanted was to be present for Francescaโs parade of suitors.
โIndeed. Sheโs a lovely woman.โ
โThat she is,โ Michael said, glad his drink had arrived.
Then not so glad when he realized it had arrived two minutes earlier and he had already drunk it.
Trevelstam cleared his throat. โIโm sure you are aware that I intend to court her.โ
โIโm certainly aware of it now.โ Michael eyed his glass, trying to determine if there might be a few drops of brandy left after all.
โI wasnโt certain whether I should inform you or her brother of my intentions.โ
Michael was quite certain that Anthony Bridgerton, Francescaโs eldest brother, was quite capable of weeding out unsuitable marriage prospects, but nonetheless he said, โI am quite sufficient.โ
โGood, good,โ Trevelstam murmured, taking another sip of his drink. โIโโ โTrevelstam!โ came a booming voice. โAnd Kilmartin, too!โ
It was Lord Hardwick, big and beefy, and if not yet drunk, not exactly sober either.
โHardwick,โ both men said, acknowledging his arrival.
Hardwick grabbed a chair, scraping it along the floor until it found a place at the table. โGood to see you, good to see you,โ he huffed. โCapital night, donโt you think? Most excellent. Most excellent, indeed.โ
Michael had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded, anyway. Better that than actually to ask him what he meant; Michael was quite certain he lacked the patience to listen to an explanation.
โThistleswaiteโs over there setting bets on the Queenโs dogs, and, oh! Heard about Lady Kilmartin, too. Good talk tonight,โ he said, nodding approvingly. โGood talk, indeed. Hate when itโs quiet here.โ
โAnd how are the Queenโs dogs faring?โ Michael inquired. โOut of mourning, I understand.โ
โThe dogs?โ
โNo, Lady Kilmartin!โ Hardwick chortled. โHeh heh heh. Good one, there, Kilmartin.โ
Michael signaled for another drink. He was going to need it.
โWore blue the other night, she did,โ Hardwick said. โEveryone saw.โ โShe looked quite lovely,โ Trevelstam added.
โIndeed, indeed,โ Hardwick said. โGood woman. Iโd go after her myself if I werenโt already shackled to Lady Hardwick.โ
Small favors and all that, Michael decided.
โShe mourned the old earl for how long?โ Hardwick asked. โSix years?โ
As the โold earlโ had been but twenty-eight at the time of his death, Michael found the comment somewhat offensive, but there seemed little point in attempting to change Lord Hardwickโs customary bad judgment and behavior at this late stage in his lifeโand from the size and ruddiness of him, he was clearly going to keel over at any time. Right now, in fact, if Michael was lucky.
He glanced across the table. Still alive. Damn.
โFour years,โ he said succinctly. โMy cousin died four years ago.โ
โFour, six, whatever,โ Hardwick said with a shrug. โItโs still a bloody long time to black the windows.โ
โI believe she was in half-mourning for some time,โ Trevelstam put in.
โEh? Really?โ Hardwick took a swig of his drink, then wiped his mouth rather sloppily with a handkerchief. โAll the same for the rest of us when you think about it. She wasnโt looking for a husband โtil now.โ
โNo,โ Michael said, mostly because Hardwick had actually stopped talking for a few seconds.
โThe men are going to be after her like bees to honey,โ Hardwick predicted, drawing out theย beesย until it sounded like it ended with four Zs. โBees to honey, I tell you. Everyone knows she was devoted to the old earl. Everyone.โ
Michaelโs drink arrived. Thank God.
โAnd thereโs been no whiff of scandal attached to her name since he died,โ Hardwick added.
โI should say not,โ Trevelstam said.
โNot like some of the widows out and about,โ Hardwick continued, taking another swig of his liquor. He chuckled lewdly and elbowed Michael. โIf you know what I mean.โ
Michael just drank.
โItโs likeโฆโ Hardwick leaned in, his jowls jiggling as his expression grew salacious. โItโs likeโฆโ
โFor Godโs sake, man, just spit it out,โ Michael muttered. โEh?โ Hardwick said.
Michael just scowled.
โIโll tell you what itโs like,โ Hardwick said with a leer. โItโs like youโre getting a virgin who knows what to do.โ
Michael stared at him. โWhat did you just say?โ he asked, very quietly. โI saidโโ
โIโd take care not to repeat that if I were you,โ Trevel-stam quickly interjected, casting an apprehensive glance at Michaelโs darkening visage.
โEh? Itโs no insult,โ Hardwick grunted, gulping down the rest of his drink. โSheโs been married, so you know she ainโt untouched, but she hasnโt gone andโโ
โStopย now,โ Michael ground out. โEh? Everyone is saying it.โ
โNot in my presence,โ Michael bit off. โNot if they value their health.โ
โWell, itโs better than saying she ainโt like a virgin.โ Hardwick chortled. โIf you know what I mean.โ
Michael lunged.
โGood God, man,โ Hardwick yelped, falling back onto the floor. โWhat the hell is wrong with you?โ
Michael wasnโt certain how his hands had come to be around Hardwickโs neck, but he realized he rather liked them there. โYou will never,โ he hissed, โutter her name again. Do you understand me?โ
Hardwick nodded frantically, but the motion cut off his air even further, and his cheeks began to purple.
Michael let go and stood up, wiping his hands against each other as if attempting to rub away something foul. โI will not countenance Lady Kilmartin being spoken of in such disrespectful terms,โ he bit off. โIs that clear?โ
Hardwick nodded. And so did a number of the onlookers.
โGood,โ Michael grunted, deciding now was a good time to get the hell out. Hopefully Francesca would already be in bed when he got home. Either that or out. Anything as long as he didnโt have to see her.
He walked toward the exit, but as he stepped out of the room and into the hall, he heard his name being uttered yet again. He turned around,
wondering what man was idiot enough to pester him in such a state. Colin Bridgerton. Francescaโs brother. Damn.
โKilmartin,โ Colin said, his handsome face decorated with his customary half smile.
โBridgerton.โ
Colin motioned lightly to the now overturned table. โThat was quite a show in there.โ
Michael said nothing. Colin Bridgerton had always unnerved him. They shared the same sort of reputationโ that of the devil-may-care rogue. But whereas Colin was the darling of the society mamas, who cooed over his charming demeanor, Michael had always been (or at least until heโd come into the title) treated with a bit more caution.
But Michael had long suspected there was quite a bit of substance under Colinโs ever-jovial surface, and perhaps it was because they were alike in so many ways, but Michael had always feared that if anyone were to sense the truth of his feelings for Francesca, it would be this brother.
โI was having a quiet drink when I heard the commotion,โ Colin said, motioning to a private salon. โCome join me.โ
Michael wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the club, but Colin was Francescaโs brother, which made them relations of a sort, requiring at least the pretense of politeness. And so he gritted his teeth and walked into the private salon, fully intending to take his drink and leave in under ten minutes.
โPleasant night, donโt you think?โ Colin said, once Michael was pretending to be comfortable. โAside from Hardwick and all that.โ He sat back in his chair with careless grace. โHeโs an ass.โ
Michael gave him a terse nod, trying not to notice that Francescaโs brother was watching him as he always did, his shrewd gaze carefully overlaid with
an air of charming innocence. Colin cocked his head slightly to the side, rather as if, Michael thought acerbically, he were angling for a better look into his soul.
โDamn it all,โ Michael muttered under his breath, and he rang for a waiter. โWhat was that?โ Colin asked.
Michael turned slowly back to face him. โDo you want another drink?โ he asked, his words as clear as he could manage, considering they had to squeeze through his clenched teeth.
โI believe I will,โ Colin replied, all friendliness and good cheer. Michael didnโt believe his facade for a moment.
โDo you have any plans for the remainder of the evening?โ Colin asked. โNone.โ
โNeither do I, as it happens,โ Colin murmured.
Damn. Again. Was it really too much to wish for one bloody hour of solitude?
โThank you for defending Francescaโs honor,โ Colin said quietly.
Michaelโs first impulse was to growl that he didnโt need to be thanked; it was his place as well as any Bridgertonโs to defend Francescaโs honor, but Colinโs green eyes seemed uncommonly sharp that evening, so he just nodded instead. โYour sister deserves to be treated with respect,โ he finally said, making sure that his voice was smooth and even.
โOf course,โ Colin said, inclining his head.
Their drinks arrived. Michael fought the urge to down his in one gulp, but he did take a large enough sip for it to burn down his throat.
Colin, on the other hand, let out an appreciative sigh and sat back. โExcellent whisky,โ he said with great appreciation. โBest thing about Britain, really. Or one of them at least. One just canโt get anything like it in Cyprus.โ
Michael just grunted a response. It was all that seemed necessary.
Colin took another drink, clearly savoring the brew. โAhhh,โ he said, setting his glass down. โAlmost as good as a woman.โ
Michael grunted again, raising his glass to his lips.
And then Colin said, โYou should just marry her, you know.โ Michael nearly choked. โI beg your pardon?โ
โMarry her,โ Colin said with a shrug. โIt seems simple enough.โ
It was probably too much to hope that Colin was speaking of anyone but Francesca, but Michael took one desperate stab, anyway, and said, in quite the chilliest tone he could muster, โTo whom, might I ask, do you refer?โ
Colin lifted his eyebrows. โDo we really need to play this game?โ โI canโt marry Francesca,โ Michael sputtered.
โWhy not?โ
โBecauseโโ He cut himself off. Because there were a hundred reasons he couldnโt marry her, none of which he could speak aloud. So he just said, โShe was married to my cousin.โ
โLast I checked, there was nothing illegal in that.โ
No, but there was everything immoral. Heโd wanted Francesca for so long, loved her for what felt like an eternityโeven when John had been living. He had deceived his cousin in the basest way possible; he would not compound the betrayal by stealing his wife.
It would complete the ugly circle that had led to his being the Earl of Kilmartin, a title that was never supposed to have been his.ย Noneย of it was supposed to be his. And except for those damned boots heโd forced Reivers to toss in a wardrobe, Francesca was the only thing left of Johnโs that heย hadnโtย made his own.
Johnโs death had given him fabulous wealth. It had given him power, prestige, and the title of earl.
If it gave him Francesca as well, how could he possibly hang onto the thread of hope that he hadnโt somehow, even if only in his dreams, wished for this to happen?
How could he live with himself then? โShe has to marry someone,โ Colin said.
Michael looked up, aware that heโd been silent with his thoughts for some time. And that Colin had been watching him closely all the while. He shrugged, trying to maintain a cavalier mien, even though he suspected it wouldnโt fool the man across the table. โSheโll do what she wants,โ he said. โShe always does.โ
โShe might marry hastily,โ Colin murmured. โShe wants to have children before sheโs too old.โ
โSheโs not too old.โ
โNo, but she might think she is. And she might worry that others will think she is, as well. She didnโt conceive with your cousin, after all. Well, not successfully.โ
Michael had to clutch the end of the table to keep from rising. He could have had Shakespeare at his side to translate, and still not have been able to explain why Colinโs remark infuriated him so.
โIf she chooses too hastily,โ Colin added, almost offhandedly, โshe might choose someone who would be cruel to her.โ
โFrancesca?โ Michael asked derisively. Maybe some other woman would be that foolish, but not his Francesca.
Colin shrugged. โIt could happen.โ
โEven if it did,โ Michael countered, โshe would never remain in such a marriage.โ
โWhat choice would she have?โ
โThis isย Francescaโย Michael said. Which really should have explained it all.
โI suppose youโre right,โ Colin acceded, sipping at his drink. โShe could always take refuge with the Bridger-tons. We would certainly never force her to return to a cruel spouse.โ He set his glass down on the table and sat back. โBesides, the point is moot, anyway, is it not?โ
There was something strange in Colinโs tone, something hidden and provoking. Michael looked up sharply, unable to resist the impulse to search the other manโs face for clues to his agenda. โAnd why is that?โ he asked.
Colin took another sip of his drink. Michael noticed that the volume of liquid in the glass never seemed to go down.
Colin toyed with his glass for several moments before looking up, his gaze settling on Michaelโs face. To anyone else, it might have seemed a bland expression, but there was something in Colinโs eyes that made Michael want to squirm in his seat. They were sharp and piercing, and although different in color, shaped precisely like Francescaโs.
It was damned eerie, that.
โWhy is the point moot?โ Colin murmured thoughtfully. โWell, because you so clearly donโt wish to marry her.โ
Michael opened his mouth for a quick retort, then slammed it shut when he realizedโwith more than considerable shockโthat heโd been about to say, โOf course I do.โ
And he did.
He wanted to marry her.
He just didnโt think he could live with his conscience if he did. โAre you quite all right?โ Colin asked.
Michael blinked. โPerfectly so, why?โ
Colinโs head tilted slightly to the side. โFor a moment there, you lookedโฆโ He gave his head a shake. โItโs nothing.โ
โWhat, Bridgerton?โ Michael nearly snapped.
โSurprised,โ Colin said. โYou looked rather surprised. Bit odd, I thought.โ
Dear God, one more moment with Colin Bridgerton, and the bloody bastard would have all of Michaelโs secrets laid open and bare. Michael pushed his chair back. โI need to be going,โ he said abruptly.
โOf course,โ Colin said genially, as if their entire conversation had consisted of horses and the weather.
Michael stood, then gave a curt nod. It wasnโt a terribly warm farewell, considering that they were relations of a sort, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.
โThink about what I said,โ Colin murmured, just when Michael had reached the door.
Michael let out a harsh laugh as he pushed through the door and into the hall. As if heโd be able to think about anything else.
For the rest of his life.