To Love a Wicked Lord by Edith Layton Page B

approached the huge bed. “I have nothing against marriage,” he said. “And she is all you say. But I don’t really know her and she doesn’t really know me, and my job is to find her fiancé, not to be him. My only regret is that I may have ruined my masquerade. She may never think of me as a man milliner again. It was difficult even for me to pretend to be interested only in fashion at a moment like that.”
    â€œSo it was a moment.”
    â€œWhich is over now.”
    â€œYou’ve nothing against marriage?” Whit asked.“There’s another surprise. I thought you were determined to remain a bachelor.”
    â€œWhy?” Montrose asked, pausing at the other side of the bed, the outline of his slender figure tensed.
    Now his friend foundered. “Well…because of your father, and his attitude toward you, and all that nonsense. I can’t think you’d find the prospect pleasing. Don’t forget, I’ve known you and your family for a long time.”
    â€œI can hardly forget that. Our Duncan thought you were another brother until he was out of short pants,” Montrose said, relaxing. “But if my father was cruel it was only because he had no heart left to be kind. Was ever a fellow more unfortunate in his loves? My mother died before I could focus my eyes on her, and he couldn’t forget her. I look like her, they say. Hence, it was a long time before he could bear the sight of me.”
    â€œYou’re very understanding,” his friend murmured.
    â€œUnderstanding someone is simple enough, there’s no energy involved. Not all my affect of a fribble, a languishing lump of Fashion, is assumed, you know.”
    His friend’s laughter was low and disbelieving.
    â€œNo, really, I’d like to be lazy and unconcerned, Ijust can’t help getting involved with life,” Montrose complained. “But really, how can one not be sorry for my poor father? Anyway, he made it easier for me. He saw his attitude toward me for what it was, regretted it, and mended his ways. We’re actually friends now. He tried even more; he sought to give me a mother and married again. He married Elspeth; she was a joy. He loved her as deeply as he had my own mother. She gave him Duncan and peace of mind, until she shattered him when she broke her neck trying to prove her horsemanship. And so then he married Celeste, whom he didn’t love. Well, who would? A mistake. Better to have a heart broken than chipped away at. He’s stuck with her and their Theo the Terror now, and he couldn’t be unhappier.”
    His friend was silent as Montrose obviously thought of something and returned to his cast-off clothing. He bent down, searched in his discarded jacket pocket, and produced an object. It was a pistol. Osbourne saw it in silhouette, glinting in the sparse light as Montrose again approached the bed, and stiffened. He only breathed again when he saw his friend tuck the weapon under the pillow he would use.
    â€œInsurance for the night,” Montrose explained, as he got into the bed on the farthest side from hisfriend. “Never go to bed in a strange place without your breeches on, even if you’ve had them off for a sweet reason. And never sleep without cold steel of some sort under your head, so you don’t get any in your brain. Gad. This mattress is so stuffed, I sink a foot.”
    â€œYou’ll be asleep in a tick,” Osbourne murmured.
    â€œLovely pun,” Montrose said, smiling.
    â€œSo then, if your heart is safe from being pierced, aren’t you afraid of it being broken?”
    â€œI am not my poor father, thank the deity. I’ve never had to worry about it. My heart remains seriously unscathed. I think because I think too much.” He laughed. “My father is a more emotional fellow than I am, even if he never shows it. Don’t fret, Whit. There’s hope for me. If I feel desire I sate it.