Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
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London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Somehow, Lucian had entered battlefields feeling more serene than he was now. He'd dreaded talking to John ever since things had gotten serious between him and Maeve, delaying the moment he'd need to have that important discussion with his oldest friend.
But he was nearly out of time, and if he didn't speak with him now, things would be even worse, as Maeve had pointed out. Out of respect for their friendship, Lucian couldn't possibly let John discover about the engagement in the papers. It would be a blatant insult to the man, and he couldn't bear the idea.
Aside from a few minor arguments, he and Delawney had never truly been angry at each other. Even after Lucian had told him he was going back to the war, John hadn't been able to hold it against him for more than four days. This news, however, would most likely result in a much more extended feud.
After all, Delawney had been in pursuit of the woman for three months now, ever since the beginning of the season. Years actually, given that he'd cleverly mentioned Maeve to Lucian in letters under the false name of Jane, as he'd been slowly growing infatuated with her.
As he reached his friend, Lucian closed his eyes briefly, telling himself that whatever the outcome, it was worth it. She was worth it. Opening them again, he closed the short distance that separated him from his red-haired friend.
With a hand on Delawney's shoulder, he gained the man's attention from the discussion he was having. "John, I need to talk to you."
Hearing how grave he sounded, John appeared worried and excused himself from his group. Without a word, Lucian led him away from the people and out to the gardens. It was ironic that they were back to this house, where he'd re-encountered Maeve three months ago, where everything had started.
As if led by an invisible force, Lucian walked to the very bench he'd spotted her in her yellow dress. John was still by his side, obviously confused by whatever was happening. After he'd made sure no one was out here with them, Lucian mustered his courage to face his friend. The poor man was properly worried now, and whatever scenarios were unfolding in his mind, Lucian knew he was still miles away from the painful truth.
"Tell me, Lucian. My imagination is running wild," he demanded, pressing a hand on his shoulder.
"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now, and I can't tell you how sorry I am we're only doing this now."
"What is it? Has Napoleon escaped? Are you heading back to war with Wellington?"
"No, it's none of that." Taking a deep breath, Lucian passed a hand over his face, struggling to find his composure. "I'm getting married."
Frozen with shock, John stared at him, speechless and unmoving for a few seconds. Then, his stunned face twisted into hilarity while a burst of irresistible laughter overtook him. With gritted teeth, Lucian waited for him to calm down. When the intense fit of laughter ended, John turned back to Lucian, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. "You idiot! You scared me like this for a stupid joke. Dear God, have you no mercy for my poor heart?"
