Nathaniel took a sip of his brandy before putting the glass down on the round table he shared with his friends. They had brought him to White's, saying that they wanted to play a few games of whist before the engagement ball. It was a poor excuse for them to try to get him foxed. To their dismay, he had caught on early and was drinking at a more leisurely pace than any of them had hoped for.
"Refill, Pensington?" Wortham asked pleasantly when he noticed that his glass was empty.
"Please," he said with an amused glance in his friend's direction. "But I should warn you that you will not be drinking me under the table this evening. Aunt Jane will have my head if I arrive at my engagement ball stinking of brandy."
"You wound me." Wortham poured a good amount of brandy into the empty snifter. "Would I do such a thing?"
His snort was answer enough.
"When does the ball start?" Gabriel Winter asked as he moved the cards around in his hands. "Mother has told me I have to attend. There might be some unfortunate lady who catches my interest."
Wortham chuckled. "Are those your words or hers?"
"A bit of both," Winter admitted with a brief grin.
Gowthorpe flicked open his pocket watch. "We still have some time before we have to get home and make ourselves presentable."
"Your days of freedom are limited." Wortham grinned at Nathaniel. "Are you sure you don't want to hurry the drinking along a little?"
"I'm fine, thank you," he replied dryly. "Feel free to drink a little extra on my behalf, though."
Wortham laughed. "Tempting, but no. I think your lovely aunt would have my head as well."
Taking another sip from his snifter, Nathaniel looked down at the cards in his hand. It was only his second glass, and they had already been there for a couple of hours. He knew it frustrated Wortham that he wouldn't drink more, but that just made it easier to resist. It would be much too satisfying for Wortham to see him make an arse out of himself at his own engagement ball. The event was scheduled for that evening at Pensington House, arranged by his aunt, who loved such things.
Both Aunt Jane and Gowthorpe had wanted a long engagement of several months to stave off any rumours of anything untoward having happened between Angel and Chettisham, but Nathaniel had refused. Four weeks from the day he asked Angel to be his wife and no more. His excuse had been that it was better to get it done instead of letting people gossip for the next few months. The sooner they married, the sooner the ton could grow bored with the news and start looking for something else to talk about.
Which was all true. But mostly, he just wanted her to be his wife. He didn't trust himself to stay away from her for longer than that. Any time they were together, he wanted to drag her into a dark corner and kiss her senseless. No, that was a lie. He wanted to do a good deal more than kiss her. And once they were married, he could.
Every night he lay in bed thinking of Angel and their impending vows. For someone who had no interest in marriage only a couple of months ago, he had to admit that his tune had changed. The moment he blurted out his offer of marriage—the moment he'd decided he wanted Angel for his wife—he had known he wanted it to be as soon as possible because every day he could not be with her was agony.
"Pensington?" Wortham was looking at him with an amused grin playing on his lips.
"What?" The disgruntled tone made his friend grin even wider.
"It's your turn to deal."
"Right."
"I wonder if Lady Garland will be at the ball tonight," Gowthorpe wondered aloud while waiting for him to finish shuffling.
"The widow?" Winter asked.
"Exactly the one." Gowthorpe smiled. "We had a nice meeting last week and I wouldn't mind seeing her again."
"It's your sister's engagement ball," Winter remarked hesitantly. "Should you really be seducing women?"
"There is no time or place that is not for seducing women." Wortham chuckled.
"And she is a nice-looking woman," Nathaniel agreed.
"Not that you should notice anymore," Gowthorpe said stiffly, causing Wortham to burst out laughing again.
"God, Gowthorpe," he said as his laugh abated to a chuckle. "Give the man some rest. I know he's marrying your sister, but he's not blind."
Ignoring the earl—which was usually the best tactic to use—Gowthorpe turned to Winter. "Have you met Lady Garland? She's a few years older but absolutely stunning. Cherry lips. Chocolate brown hair. Skin like rich milk."
"Bloody hell," Wortham burst out with a disgusted look at his friend. "Must you compare all your women to food?"
"Why not?" The viscount shrugged. "I love both."
Nathaniel finished dealing the cards and looked down to see what he'd received when Wortham nodded to something across the room.
"I see Chettisham has no qualms about showing his face at the club after spreading those rumours," the earl said.
Looking up, seeing the other man instantly ignited something inside him as he watched him laugh with some friends. What he had done to Angel was unforgivable. Pushing her into a corner she could only escape by marriage. Chettisham's plan had obviously been to make her marry him, but it had backfired as she was now marrying Nathaniel. He hoped the other man hated it. He hoped Angel would never have to see his face again.
Rising from his chair, he felt Wortham's hand on his arm and looked down at his friend. "Don't do this, Pensington. You will make a scene and you have your engagement ball to get to."
"I just want to talk to him," Nathaniel said, pulling his arm free. "Make sure he knows not to show up anywhere Angel is."
"Give him my regards," Gowthorpe suggested coolly.
He nodded and walked across the room. Wortham followed a few paces behind, obviously not trusting him to go alone. They neared the group of men where Chettisham stood, only to hear the man brag loudly.
"Oh yes, she sure spread her legs wide for me."
"Bloody hell," Nathaniel cursed and forcefully grabbed the other man's shoulder to spin him around. At the sight of him, Chettisham blanched but had no time to react before Nathaniel's fist connected solidly with his jaw. The impact surprised him enough to make him stumble back a step, trip on a rug, and fall flat on his arse.
"What happened to talking?" Wortham asked dryly as he looked down at Chettisham, who wisely made no attempt to stand.
"I changed my mind," Nathaniel growled.
"Obviously." His friend chuckled. "I think it's time you return home to prepare for your engagement party instead."
With a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, he guided him back to their table, where Winter sat with his mouth wide open while Gowthorpe looked oddly satisfied. Finishing the remaining brandy in his glass in one sweep, Nathaniel shook his head.
"What was that about?" Winter asked.
"He still hasn't stopped spreading rumours." He flexed his hands, fighting the urge to go back for another round.
Gowthorpe seemed to share his thoughts as he grunted, "Should have given him a few more for good measure."
"Another time," Wortham said. "Time to get ready for the ball."
"Fine," Nathaniel muttered. "But if anyone sees that bastard anywhere near Angel in the future, let me know."
~~~~~~