Chapter 6

In the comfort of his study, Andrew was poring over the accounts of the Estate. Or at least, he was pretending to. The truth was, the Duke's accounts were healthy enough to require very little management from him at that particular moment. His reputation might have lain in ruins ever since the tragedy that claimed his family, but his wealth remained untouched — a small mercy which the Duke supposed he should consider himself grateful for.

Ever since Marian had arrived, however, Andrew had found himself in a state of agitation which made it virtually impossible to concentrate. He had barely slept the night before, knowing she was under his roof, and now, instead of attending to business as he'd promised himself he would, he found himself pacing restlessly back and forth, his mind so occupied by his unexpected visitor that he completely failed to notice the figure on horseback who rode confidently up to the front door and was admitted at once by the butler.

It wasn't until sometime later, in fact, when Andrew finally quit his pacing to stare morosely out of the window, that the sound of voices caught his attention, drifting up from the floor below.

Two voices: one male, one female.

The female voice Andrew was able to immediately account for. He might only have been in her presence twice, but he'd already know Marian's light, musical voice anywhere — a fact that made him feel deeply uncomfortable.

How can someone I know so little have already made such a deep impression upon me?

The male voice, meanwhile, was almost equally familiar.

"Gregory? Can it be you?"

Andrew threw open the door of his study and strode quickly to the top of the great staircase, looking eagerly down.

"Rottdwell! I wondered where you'd been hiding! And where you've been hiding this young beauty, more to the point?"

Gregory Higgins, Marquess of Wyre, stood at the foot of the stairs, beaming up at the Duke. Gregory was Andrew's oldest friend — and one of the very few who had stood by him in the wake of the scandal which had engulfed him a few years prior — and under normal circumstances, Andrew would have been delighted to see him.

These, however, were far from normal circumstances, for standing just behind the Marquess, her cheeks flushed, was Marian. Marian, the woman he had more or less imprisoned here just a few hours earlier. Marian who could, at any second, turn to Gregory and beg for his help. Marian who was, at that moment, smiling up at the newcomer in a way that made Andrew's fists clench with sudden jealously.

"Wyre! What brings you here? Should I have been expecting you?"

Andrew walked quickly down the stairs, doing his best to sound pleased to see the Marquess.

"No, I'm afraid I've turned up like the bad penny. I was in the area and thought to drop by. I hope it's not inconvenient?"

Gregory spoke easily, but Andrew didn't miss the way his friend's eyes kept flicking curiously towards Marian or how close he seemed to be standing to her.

Too close.

Much too close.

"Not at all," Andrew replied, a little more stiffly than he'd intended. "Will you join me in the study? I can have Ben bring us some refreshments."

"Oh, come now, Andrew, you can't mean to leave this lovely creature on her own, surely?" Gregory said, smiling in Marian's direction. "Why, we've only just started getting to know each other."

He took a step closer, and Andrew saw red.

"Leave her alone." he spoke quietly, almost lethally, before he could stop himself. "I mean it, Wyre, get away from her, or you'll live to regret it."

Marian's beautiful eyes widened in fear, but Gregory simply shrugged, his expression puzzled.

"I beg your pardon," he said, stepping away from the woman and raising his hands as if in surrender. "I meant no harm, I assure you."

If the words were meant to reassure Andrew, they didn't work. Gregory may have meant no harm, but Andrew knew the Marquess well enough to know when the man was flirting with a woman — as well he should. At one time, the two had been quite the pair, breaking hearts together all over London while making sure their own hearts remained intact. Now, however, things were different.

Until now, Andrew had never felt the need to compete with Gregory for a woman's affection — indeed, he had never needed to. But now Gregory was looking at Marion with such admiration that Andrew found he couldn't bring himself to apologize for the way he'd spoken to his friend. Especially not when he saw the way Marian was looking at the Marquess with undisguised admiration.

"Why, Your Grace," she said now with that defiant tilt of the chin that he was coming to know so well, "The way you carry on, anyone might think you had something to hide."

Andrew glowered at her. He knew perfectly well that she hoped to catch him out — to force him to admit to Gregory that he held her here against her will. Who knew, perhaps she even hoped the Marquess might even be prevailed upon to come to her rescue and help her escape from the dastardly Duke? Well, she thought incorrectly as it happened. But if a dastardly Duke was what she expected, then Andrew would make sure that was what she got.

"On the contrary, Madam," he said with a small bow in her direction, "there are no secrets between the Marquess and I. He has seen me at my very worst and yet can still somehow find it in himself to come around to visit me. So, if you're hoping he might save you, then I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for disappointment."

Gregory's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he knew better than to interject. Marion, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

"I do not believe you, Sir," she said haughtily. "It cannot be possible that there are two men in England with such low morals. Which leads me to suspect your friend here is no friend at all but is in some way as entrapped by you as I am. Perhaps you threaten him or bribe him? For I'm sure no man of good standing would come here willingly, under the guise of mere friendship."

Andrew bristled. It was as if she knew exactly what to say to put him at a disadvantage. Although he did not question Gregory's loyalty to him, Andrew was by now so used to being reviled by the wider community that part of him had always half-expected his friend to turn against him too. And now here was this infernal woman suggesting he already had.

"Come now," interjected Gregory easily, trying to diffuse the tension as was his way. "Let's have no unpleasantness amongst us. Why, I think we three might make a rather jolly little party. What say you, Rottdwell?"

"Certainly not," replied Andrew and Marion in unison.

"I should rather die than spend even a second in this man's company," Marion said, tossing her head. "I wonder you do not feel the same, Sir?"

Gregory bit back a smile of amusement.

"Very well," he said, turning to the Duke, "then I see we have much to discuss, Your Grace. I must confess, I find myself intrigued."

Andrew glared at him in frustration. As much as he looked forward to his friend's all too infrequent visits, on this occasion, he could not have wished the Marquess further away.

Oh, of all of the times he could have chosen to turn up on my doorstep, why did he have to choose this one?

Andrew stepped back, gesturing brusquely towards the stairs.

"Shall we?"

"Certainly," Gregory replied easily. Then, to Andrew's horror, the Marquess took Marian's hand in his and raised it to his lips, his eyes glinting mischievously as he glanced in Andrew's direction.

"I very much hope I shall see you again before I leave," Gregory told the blushing Marian. Before he could say anything more, however, Andrew had grabbed him by arm, propelling him roughly up the stairs and into the study where he closed the door firmly behind them.

"Would you care to tell me what all that was about?" asked Gregory, dropping into an easy chair by the fire, having apparently taken no offense at the Duke's rough handling of him. "Who is she, Rottdwell? And how has she managed to get under your skin?"

"She's no one," Andrew lied, poking viciously at the fire. "Or no one you need concern yourself with in any case. And I'd be very much obliged if you'd leave her alone and stop trying to lay your…. your charms on her. She's too… pure… to be around a man such as you."

Gregory chuckled softly.

"A man such as I?" he said, amused. "My charms? I'm not sure whether to feel complimented or slighted. You've never been troubled by my so-called charms, or who I choose to lay them on before, though, Rottdwell. So why now? Who is this woman who's too pure and innocent for the likes of me?" He chuckled again to show his friend that he'd taken no offense. Andrew allowed himself to relax slightly, grateful for Gregory's easy nature and willingness to forgive.

"I told you," he said again. "She's no one. Now let's just drop it, Wyre."

"You forget how well I know you, Rottdwell," Gregory said, smiling good-naturedly. "And also how incredibly bad you are at acting. I can see the lady is very much someone. It couldn't be plainer. Why, I can still feel your fingers on the back of my arm from when you hauled me up the stairs to get me away from her. Now, are you going to tell me what's going on here, or do I need to pretend to take offense at your lack of trust in your oldest friend? Oh, and would you mind putting down that poker you're holding before you begin? It's making me nervous."

Andrew looked at the poker in his hand then at his friend. Gregory was an incorrigible flirt and at times, an outright pain. But he was also loyal and trustworthy — he'd proven that many times over since that terrible night when Andrew's family had perished — and right now, Andrew badly needed someone to talk to. With a heavy sigh, he replaced the poker in the grate and took a seat opposite the Marquess, reaching for the decanter of brandy which sat on the table next to him.

"You must promise me to tell no one," he began, pouring two drinks. Then, when Gregory nodded his assent, Andrew told him how Marian had turned up on his doorstep the night before and how Andrew had been afraid to let her leave for fear of the gossip that might ensue.

"Gossip?" Gregory said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as Andrew reached the end of his tale. "You're telling me you've decided to keep this young woman captive for fear of… gossip?"

"And more," replied Andrew defensively. "I have no idea what information she might spread about me. What lies. I've had trouble enough to deal with these past few years, Gregory — you, of all people, should know that. Why would I risk attracting even more?"

Gregory sat back in his seat and looked at his friend skeptically.

"And that's the only reason you wish to keep her here?" he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "You're sure about that?"

"Of course. What other reason could there be?"

Andrew rose and walked over to the window, staring out unseeingly, so Gregory couldn't see the expression on his face. It was no use, though. The Marquess knew him better than anyone, and Andrew knew his friend wasn't fooled for a second.

"I think you're mesmerized by her," Gregory said quietly. "So much so that you can't bear the thought of letting her go and risking never seeing her again."

Andrew's shoulders stiffened in surprise. If anything, he would have expected Gregory to tease him mercilessly over Marian before moving on to some other subject. But there was a sincerity in the other man's tone that made it clear this was no joke, and it made the Duke suddenly afraid.

What if he's right? What if this attraction I feel towards her is more than just a passing fancy? What if it runs deeper than that? What if I really can't stand the thought of never seeing her again?

"You're mistaken," he said gruffly, not quite sure whether it was Gregory or himself who he sought to convince. "I find her interesting, that's all. She's… quite unlike any other young lady I've ever met."

Even this was saying too much, he knew, so he hurried to contradict himself.

"There is nothing more to it than that, though, I assure you," he continued, turning to face his friend once more. "And even if there were, what good would it do me? A man like me in my position… I can have no future with any woman, let alone her. So, I simply keep her here while I try to work out what to do for the best."

Gregory shook his head, clearly unconvinced.

"Then I shall leave you to your wonderings, my friend," he said, getting to his feet. "And to the… what was it? The interesting attractions of the young Miss Sullivan."

He smiled back at his friend as he walked to the door of the study.

"I'll see myself out," he said. "You will have a think about what I've said though, Rottdwell, won't you? About how you might feel if you were to never see her again?"

Andrew shrugged casually, but when Gregory had gone, the Duke remained standing at the window for a very long time with his friend's words ringing in his ears.