meddled in his business enough. Even though, devil take it, he couldn’t deny the improvements she’d made to his household.
But one thing was for certain, the evening was fast becoming a nightmare. One that would not end any time soon, he thought, thinking of the conversation that awaited him later with Simone.
Damn, he needed a drink.
Thus, the instant the curtain dropped for intermission, an unusually agitated Coventry leapt to his feet. Eager to escape, he extracted himself from Simone on a much-needed quest to retrieve some refreshment.
He’d not taken two steps outside his box before he was intercepted by the Duke of St. Albans.
“I’d like a word with you, Coventry.”
Hell .
Was it just his current state of confusion or did the duke sound angry? He swallowed hard, wondering what the duke might have heard. Or worse, seen. “Actually, I was just on my way to find some refreshment—”
“Your drink can wait,” St. Albans growled.
No mistake. The duke was furious.
Coventry drew himself up for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation. “Very well.”
They moved toward the wall, out of earshot of the flood of patrons filling the aisles.
“What is going on between you and my daughter?”
Coventry cursed silently. The duke had heard something. “Nothing,” he assured him, perhaps a tad too vehemently.
The duke leveled his steely gaze on him, the friendship between them forgotten. Rather than his usual lighthearted, avuncular manner, the duke now had the unmistakable bearing of a father holding out a box of dueling pistols. Which given Coventry’s rather prurient thoughts, wasn’t that far off the mark.
“You better see that it stays that way.” The warning in his voice was unmistakable.
Coventry’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being threatened. He studied the older man. Though they were about the same height, the duke had a few years’ worth of added muscle on his frame. His expression held no quarter. St. Albans would be a formidable enemy. One that Coventry did not want to make. No matter the insult.
“Whatever you have heard, I assure you there is no truth to any of it.”
“I didn’t believe it at first,” St. Albans said, shaking his head. “But with what I saw tonight…” Apparently thinking better of it, he stopped whatever it was that he was going to say. “Will you give me your word to stay away from my daughter?”
Coventry hesitated. “Why?”
The duke straightened to his full height. Perhaps he was an inch or two taller than Coventry realized.
“Do you intend to offer marriage?” he challenged.
Point taken. “No,” Coventry acknowledged.
“I will not have my daughter trifled with.” The duke lowered his voice. “I will have your word.”
A corner of his mouth lifted wryly. “And my word is good enough for you?”
“It is,” the duke replied stiffly.
Something about that fact made Coventry speak carefully. “Then I give you my word that I will not pursue your daughter.” He couldn’t control the other way around.
The duke studied him, and finally nodded. “Good.” He bowed his head politely. “I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Coventry nodded. But before the duke moved away, Coventry stopped him. “St. Albans.”
The duke turned slowly as if he was reluctant to hear what Coventry had to say.
“Perhaps I am not the one you should be speaking to.”
The duke’s eyes flared, and Coventry thought he was going to make a move toward him. But St. Albans held himself back. His mouth fell in a grim, straight line. “Be assured, I intend to rectify that later tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was near dusk almost a week after the play when the earl’s carriage clattered to a halt before the charming brick townhouse on Curzon Street. It had taken quite some doing, but Gina had finally tracked down the address.
Earlier in the week, she’d waited for Coventry to depart for his club before descending on his lodgings,
But one thing was for certain, the evening was fast becoming a nightmare. One that would not end any time soon, he thought, thinking of the conversation that awaited him later with Simone.
Damn, he needed a drink.
Thus, the instant the curtain dropped for intermission, an unusually agitated Coventry leapt to his feet. Eager to escape, he extracted himself from Simone on a much-needed quest to retrieve some refreshment.
He’d not taken two steps outside his box before he was intercepted by the Duke of St. Albans.
“I’d like a word with you, Coventry.”
Hell .
Was it just his current state of confusion or did the duke sound angry? He swallowed hard, wondering what the duke might have heard. Or worse, seen. “Actually, I was just on my way to find some refreshment—”
“Your drink can wait,” St. Albans growled.
No mistake. The duke was furious.
Coventry drew himself up for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation. “Very well.”
They moved toward the wall, out of earshot of the flood of patrons filling the aisles.
“What is going on between you and my daughter?”
Coventry cursed silently. The duke had heard something. “Nothing,” he assured him, perhaps a tad too vehemently.
The duke leveled his steely gaze on him, the friendship between them forgotten. Rather than his usual lighthearted, avuncular manner, the duke now had the unmistakable bearing of a father holding out a box of dueling pistols. Which given Coventry’s rather prurient thoughts, wasn’t that far off the mark.
“You better see that it stays that way.” The warning in his voice was unmistakable.
Coventry’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being threatened. He studied the older man. Though they were about the same height, the duke had a few years’ worth of added muscle on his frame. His expression held no quarter. St. Albans would be a formidable enemy. One that Coventry did not want to make. No matter the insult.
“Whatever you have heard, I assure you there is no truth to any of it.”
“I didn’t believe it at first,” St. Albans said, shaking his head. “But with what I saw tonight…” Apparently thinking better of it, he stopped whatever it was that he was going to say. “Will you give me your word to stay away from my daughter?”
Coventry hesitated. “Why?”
The duke straightened to his full height. Perhaps he was an inch or two taller than Coventry realized.
“Do you intend to offer marriage?” he challenged.
Point taken. “No,” Coventry acknowledged.
“I will not have my daughter trifled with.” The duke lowered his voice. “I will have your word.”
A corner of his mouth lifted wryly. “And my word is good enough for you?”
“It is,” the duke replied stiffly.
Something about that fact made Coventry speak carefully. “Then I give you my word that I will not pursue your daughter.” He couldn’t control the other way around.
The duke studied him, and finally nodded. “Good.” He bowed his head politely. “I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Coventry nodded. But before the duke moved away, Coventry stopped him. “St. Albans.”
The duke turned slowly as if he was reluctant to hear what Coventry had to say.
“Perhaps I am not the one you should be speaking to.”
The duke’s eyes flared, and Coventry thought he was going to make a move toward him. But St. Albans held himself back. His mouth fell in a grim, straight line. “Be assured, I intend to rectify that later tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was near dusk almost a week after the play when the earl’s carriage clattered to a halt before the charming brick townhouse on Curzon Street. It had taken quite some doing, but Gina had finally tracked down the address.
Earlier in the week, she’d waited for Coventry to depart for his club before descending on his lodgings,
Similar Books
