Chapter Ten

T hat night Gavin suffered one of the most restless periods of sleep he had ever experienced. Nothing could make him relax, and as the night wore on, the only thing he could think about was waking the previous morning in bed next to Holly.

It had been a titillating experience, waking up next to her. Her inquisitive, yet still drowsy blue eyes had shined with curiosity. Her soft, walnut-colored hair fell around her shoulders, with pieces framing her face like a picture. He had considered her a beauty since the first time he saw her, but the way she had looked in the privacy of their room, in the early morning light, had made him feel like he was witnessing some sacred thing. He had reached for her on instinct, wanted to kiss and command her, but he had hesitated.

When she had brushed her mouth against his, nipping at his lip, all senses left his body. He was a man possessed, desperate to touch, taste, and learn every inch of her body with his own. He had nearly spent himself when he pulled her soft body against his—and he likely would have if not for being interrupted.

Gad, it was almost embarrassing how affected by her he was. Gavin had experienced waking up naked to a fair number of women before. He had even been somewhat experimental in his younger years. The wide range of sexual activities he had done would make most men blush, but waking up next to a nightgown-covered Holly had been infinitely more erotic than anything else he had ever experienced. It was utterly foreign to him, waking up next to someone he cared for.

The realization that he cared about Holly had become the singular thought in his mind. When and where it had happened was a mystery, but it had happened. He cared for her, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

He had managed his whole life without the care or concern of another person. Of course, there were his friends and the like, but he had never once entertained the idea of having someone rely on him. He had always been too busy with work or his travels. Whenever his old, bitter feelings about life would surface, Gavin would throw himself into something new to drown it out. If he was being honest with himself, he had felt that way about his last trip. Was that why he was so charmed by Holly? Because she was a distraction?

He needed time to consider that.

Unable to remain in bed, Gavin got up and began dressing, glancing at a stack of black leather ledgers that were stacked against the far wall in several towering piles. These were undoubtedly his uncle's journals that had been left to him, though Gavin didn't understand why the former baron had wanted him to read them. He hoped they weren't the stories that had been rumored to be written by his uncle—erotic stories involving all sorts of members of the ton. Gavin wasn't terribly interested in reading something he would later regret. He ignored them as he moved about the room.

Dressed in grey trousers, a matching waistcoat, and a black wool jacket, Gavin exited the lavish bedchambers into the hallway and headed down the opulent, gold-inlay wooden staircase. It was almost painful for the eyes to behold such a garish living space. The dining room wasn't decorated much better, with royal blue walls, forest green curtains, and three crystal chandeliers hovering above a dark wood table ladened with hundreds of pieces of brass and crystal dinnerware.

Three large vases sat directly beneath the chandeliers and were filled with dozens of purple tulips, each petal striped delicately with a faded slash of green as if they had just barely finished blooming. The entire room had seemingly been prepared as though they were expecting royalty to visit, a vast difference from the simple breakfast that Gavin had expected.

Turning, he saw two footmen stationed at the entryway. He needed to speak to someone about all this.

"Where's Mr. Spieth?" Gavin asked the footmen.

Neither moved, other than to let their eyes drift over Gavin's shoulder.

"Yes, my lord?" a voice sounded behind him.

Gavin turned around, his brow lifting as he saw Mr. Spieth beside the dining table. He hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Spieth, what is all this?"

The butler didn't move.

"Breakfast, my lord."

"Yes, I gathered. But it's a bit opulent. We aren't having guests this morning, are we?"

"One never knows, my lord. The previous baron was very much devoted to the idea that the people who should follow social directives, rarely do, and thus always wished to be prepared to host. Particularly his friends, my lord."

"Ah, so he was prepared for the prince regent to drop in at any moment?"

The butler didn't flinch at the sarcasm.

"His majesty often did, my lord."

Gavin stared at the man before letting out a laugh.

"Very well, Mr. Spieth, but going forward I don't think we will need such extravagance."

"I understand perfectly, my lord," the butler said with a deep bow. The soft shuffling of slippered feet sounded in the hallway, drawing Gavin's attention, and when he turned back, the butler was gone. Violet and Katrina entered the dining room a moment later, arm in arm and whispering. They seemed to be thick as thieves.

"Good morning," Violet said with a charming smile, eyeing their surroundings. "My, it's as if each room is more opulent than the last."

"Kingston House was like this, before Holly was asked to redecorate it last spring," Katrina said, untwining her arm from Violet's as she went to the sideboard table. "Poor old John was admittedly awful with design."

Gavin turned to face her.

"Holly decorated Kingston House?" he asked.

"Yes," Katrina said, pointing to a serving tray of sausages as a footman helped make her plate. "John practically begged her to do so. Poor Holly had conniptions spending such money on furnishings, but John insisted. He wanted her to do it just as she liked."

"How intuitive of him," Gavin murmured.

Gavin wondered just how long his uncle had considered his plan to marry them by proxy. It must have been at least a year in the making, as he had undoubtedly decided on it when Gavin last visited him. He couldn't help but wonder why. John seemed to have cared deeply for Holly and her family's wellbeing. Perhaps he hadn't been as selfish as Gavin had always assumed in his youth.

A sudden spark of unwanted jealousy simmered deep in his heart. Why had his uncle been so generous to Holly when he had refused his nephew the same amount of generosity? Echoes from his past rang throughout his brain. Aunt Marnie's complaints about not being able to afford food, let allow clothes, seemed engraved in his memory. They were exaggerations, of course—they had never actually starved, nor had they dressed in rags—but the quality and selection of both food and clothes had certainly not been what one might expect in the home of a future baron. John's allowance had given them enough to survive on, but it certainly could not have been very generous, considering how meagerly they lived.

Shaking his head, not wishing to dwell on such blistering thoughts, he turned back to the ladies as they sat at the table. He went towards the sideboard table and brushed off a servant as he fixed himself a plate of poached eggs and toast.

"You both are up rather early," Gavin said, coming around the table to sit as he tried to focus on portraying a good mood. "What activity do you two planned for today that you would need to rise with the sun?"

"Well, Holly has promised that we can go shopping with Violet," Katrina said, facing her friend. "Since she knows all the best shops on Bond Street. Her sister-in-law will be accompanying us."

"The duchess?"

"The duchess to you," Katrina said warmly. "But to Holly and me, she'll always be Clara."

Gavin was aware that Holly and the Duchess of Combe, Clara, had been good friends most of their lives, and having met the duchess before, it wasn't hard to see how Holly and Clara could be close. The duchess had a sweet, if relaxed sense about her and was one of the most patient and gentle women Gavin had ever met.

"I didn't think she or Combe were in town."

"We weren't," a deep, male voice sounded from the doorway, surprising everyone. "We've only just arrived."

"Silas!" Violet called out, jumping up from her chair and hurrying around the table.

Gavin turned to see his tall, black-haired friend greeting his sister. Silas, the Duke of Combe, had once been the gloomiest man in England. A divorced duke, he had a black mark against his name until winning his wife in a shady card game that had scandalized the ton. But something had happened between the broken Silas and the ever-gentle Clara. A friendship had formed, and before anyone knew it, the two were married, and Silas had slowly become one of the more satisfied people in London. Happier than Gavin himself, even.

"Silas," he said with a grin, standing up as the duke hugged his sister. "It's been ages."

"You've been away. Again," he said as he patted Gavin on the back. "I swear, I'm beginning to doubt your nationality. You're out of the country more than you're in it."

"Who wants to be in England during the winter? It's dreadful."

"Not when you have the proper company," Silas said, smirking as he turned to face his wife.

Clara's cheeks turned crimson at her husband's comment.

"Silas," she said with a warning tone. "Hello, Gavin. How are you?"

"Very well," he said with a nod.

"Thank you for seeing Violet to London," Silas said, turning about the room. "We weren't sure how long we were going to be detained, but as it were, our business wrapped up faster than we expected."

"Good news, I hope?"

"Very," Silas said.

"Where is Holly?" Clara asked, stepping forward. "I've been quite anxious to speak with her in person."

"She'll be down any moment," Katrina said. "I just left her room, and she was nearly dressed."

Gavin had hoped to be out of the house before she arose.

"Oh, I'm glad. I wanted to go straight to her after the letter where she told me she had married John, but we couldn't manage it," Clara said, looking at her husband. "We were rather stunned to discover that she had finally accepted one of his proposals. I'm sure she only agreed to appease a dying man, but knowing Holly as I do, I can't imagine it's been easy, especially considering how dear he was to her."

Gavin stood perfectly still as Katrina came forward.

"Oh dear. You do not know."

"Know what?" Clara asked, worried.

Gavin took a deep breath.

"Holly did not marry my uncle," he said.

"She didn't?" Clara asked, her brow scrunching slightly, looking between Gavin and Katrina. "But her letter said otherwise."

"The old baron was only standing in. Holly is married to this baron," Katrina said, nodding toward Gavin. "It was a proxy marriage."

Both Clara and Silas stared slack jawed at Gavin.

"What?" Clara asked, confused.

Gavin opened his mouth to explain but was once again interrupted.

"Gavin?" the high-pitched echo of Aunt Marnie's voice carried through the hallway.

Silas's face became drawn as Gavin gave him a pained smile.

"Oh no," the duke said.

"Oh yes," Gavin said under his breath. "Listen, might you care to meet me at White's later? I've a meeting this morning, but I would like to speak with you later."

"Um, yes, of course," Silas said, turning to protect his wife from the coming onslaught that was Aunt Marnie. But the old woman appeared too quickly, dressed more conservatively than a governess in full mourning.

"What is this? Why are there so many people in this house at this hour?" she snapped, no more chipper after a whole night's rest. She squinted at Silas, her eyes widening as she recognized him. A thin smile curved her wrinkled lips. "Well, if it isn't the Duke of Combe."

"My apologies, my lady, but we really must be going," Silas said, eager to be out of the old woman's vicinity. She had always seemed fond of Silas, though no one understood why. Gavin suspected that the duke must remind his aunt of an old beau she had known in her youth, but envisioning her as a young, loving lady always seemed out of his ability to imagine. "Come, Violet."

"Oh, but we were all going to go the shops today. Holly, Clara, Katrina, and I."

"Is that so?" Aunt Marnie said, moving towards the sideboard. "Off to spend the house's purse on frivolous fabrics and unseemly gowns? It's tragic the way young people fashion themselves these days. Why, when I was a girl, full court dress required at least two petticoats!"

Silas turned to his wife, unwilling to leave her. A calm, sweet smile crossed Clara's face.

"I'll be fine, Silas," she said softly. "Promise."

Gavin was sure his friend wasn't comfortable leaving his wife near the sharp-tongued banshee that was his aunt, but then Clara seemed determined to see her friend. Just then, Holly appeared, seeming slightly startled by how many people met her in the dining room. Gavin ignored the urgent desire to go to her but was silently emboldened when her eyes landed on him and didn't waver.

"Goodness, so much company at this hour," her velvety voice carried throughout the room. She noted Gavin's dress, and her brow pinched. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," he said, his tone even. "To see Mr. Armstrong."

"Oh," she said with a tight nod. "That is a very good idea, indeed. Hopefully he will be able to help us out of this situation."

Gavin nodded, his mood souring. Clara interrupted Gavin's line of sight as she approached her friend with outstretched arms.

"Holly!"

"Clara!"

The duchess hugged Holly as multiple conversations seemed to break out at once. Silas edged towards the doorway, and with a last, longing look at his wife, he left, prompting Gavin to follow him.

Silas had trouble being in crowds. While his discomfort had diminished somewhat since his marriage to Clara, he still disliked being around too many people. Gavin was quick to catch him before he reached the front door, though, as a footman brought him his hat and overcoat. Silas gave Gavin a strained smile as he pulled on his coat.

"I wasn't aware Marnie was in residence."

"Neither was I. We only arrived last night and she was already here."

"And I didn't know you were married." Gavin shrugged, unsure what to say. "A marriage by proxy? That was a right devil thing your uncle did."

"Yes, well, that is why I'm hoping to catch the estate lawyer at his offices this morning."

"Do you have plans to dissolve it?"

Gavin let a moment of silence pass before answering as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"It would be best to do so."

When Silas didn't respond, Gavin glanced up to see the duke staring at him with a curious expression.

"Well, it would be, wouldn't it?" Silas finally said. "I mean, without either of your consent, the license shouldn't hold up in court."

"Correct."

Another moment of silence passed, and Gavin was sure his friend was thinking something. But in the next instance, he finished putting on his hat and nodded.

"White's then? Noon? I'll send word to Trembley."

"Yes, that should be fine."

Without anything more as a goodbye, Silas left, and Gavin, uninterested in returning to the dining room, decided to send for his horse to be saddled.

He traveled across town to Mr. Armstrong's offices to find out about their pending annulment. It was all he could do to keep himself busy before his bank's offices opened, although he would have preferred doing anything else. When he finally reached the opposite end of town where the offices of Armstrong and Leach stood, he found that only Mr. Leach was there. Evidently, Mr. Armstrong was tending to a matter in court and wouldn't be available until that evening, at which point Mr. Leach promised to inform Mr. Armstrong that he needed to come to Bairnsdale Terrace at once.

Thanking him for help, Gavin left and rode to the First Merchant's Bank of London, on Cornhill Street, near the city's center. It was a neoclassical-style building that sat just behind the Royal Exchange—five stories tall, with an entrance on the corner of the building. It was an impressive sight, but Gavin did not pause to admire it as he entered his place of business.

A long row of wooden desks lined the right-hand side of the building in front of a two-story paneled wall. Mr. Leman, a tall, redheaded fellow and the acting floor manager, was passing behind one of the tellers when Gavin caught his eye. He nearly threw up the papers he was carrying when he saw his boss and hurried down the line of desks at the end of the room, where a set of stone steps led up to the offices.

"Mr. Winscombe! I er, I mean, Lord Bairnsdale," Mr. Leman said, shaking his head at his mistake. "My apologies. I was not aware that you were coming in today."

"Have no fear, Leman. I'm only coming to have a few things collected from the office and sign whatever papers I have left to formally end my tenure with the bank."

Gavin reached the staircase and hurried up them, followed by Leman. Why he was walking at breakneck speed, he didn't know. Perhaps he was trying to outrun the poor mood he had been in since leaving Bairnsdale Terrace that morning.

"Are you certain this is the best thing to do, sir? You and the other partners have only just begun to compete with the Bank of England—"

"I'm already richer than Midas, Leman, and I've just inherited an estate that makes its own fortune. There's nothing left for me to do here, except sell my portion and live happily ever after."

Leman sighed loudly, unhappy with his boss's words, as he followed Gavin into the office. It was an impressive room, with four rectangular windows, looking out over Finch Lane, a little street cut between their building and the Royal Exchange. A handsome, dark wood desk sat at the center of the room, lined with a neat pile of papers, all requiring his signature.

Sitting in the leather chair behind his desk, Gavin got to work. Leman brought him a cup of tea and a plate of mint hard candies as Gavin signed page after page, effectively removing himself from any claim to the bank he had founded.

It might drive someone like Leman mad that he could so easily give up his life's work, but Gavin hadn't ever planned on working his entire life. He had only wanted to make a sufficient amount to carry himself comfortably throughout the rest of his life, and he had managed that tenfold. Now that he had a barony to run, he was too busy to focus on work here.

During the hour it took for him to sign all the papers, several people, from managers to clerks, came in to say goodbye and to wish Gavin luck on his new life as a baron. After finishing his task, Gavin stood up and stretched. Leman hadn't left, instead busying himself with his paperwork in the corner at a desk once used by Gavin's secretary. Leman came over to Gavin's desk and looked sadly at the pile of papers that effectively removed Gavin from the company.

"Will that be all then, sir?" he asked sadly.

Gavin smirked. He plucked one of the mint candies off the dish and tossed it into his mouth.

"I've petitioned the board to hire you as my replacement," he said, ignoring the shock that came over the floor manager. "It will double your work load, but you'll make far more than a floor manager."

"B-but, sir, why?" Leman stuttered.

"Leman, you know more about this bank than most people know about their own mothers. If there was a more capable person, I've never met them."

The floor manager began to shake his head, seemingly unsure how to accept such a thing.

"Thank you, sir."

Gavin nodded, and with a firm pat on the back, he left.

It was a strange feeling, leaving one life behind as another was beginning, but then Gavin was used to the unsteady ground. There was a comfort in knowing that he had managed before and would do so again. At least Leman would have a better day than Gavin.

He was trying his hardest to find a good disposition, but he could not do it. There seemed to be a familiar dark cloud hanging over his head, and he didn't know how to shake it.

After reaching his horse, he rode back towards White's for luncheon. Riding all over London on an empty stomach, with little sleep and the sexual frustration that had plagued him for days, was doing little to better his mood.

Upon arriving at the five-story, Portland stone building, Gavin felt at home. White's had been a common thread in his life since graduating from Eton. Of course, some thought Gavin was mucking about when he decided to have a career like a working man. There had been a gentleman or two at White's who had suggested he seek membership down the street at the Clemet Club, or one of the other establishments that had no requirements to join aside from a sizeable bank balance. But Gavin was always destined to inherit a title and had ignored those who had turned up their noses when he worked.

Coming around the carpeted corner of the foyer into a vast open room, Gavin saw his friends waiting for him, sitting before a spread of cold pheasant, jellies, jams, and puddings. He picked up a biscuit and bit into it, nodding at Trembley.

"Good to see you, Gavin," the tawny-haired earl said, eyeing his friend with speculation. "It's been a few months."

"Six actually," Gavin said around a mouth full of food.

"Yes," Trembley answered. "Silas here was just informing me that there was a call for congratulations. I had no idea you were planning to marry."

"Neither did I," Gavin said, taking a seat on the plush leather club chair, his back facing the window. "But Uncle John apparently thought it was imperative."

Trembley shook his head.

"What an idiotic thing to do," he said. "Surely he would have guessed that you would have the entire thing annulled." Gavin shrugged. "You are having it expunged, aren't you?"

"If I could find my lawyer," Gavin mumbled, his gaze lifting across the club's main floor.

"It's rather interesting, isn't it?" Silas said. "Inheriting a wife. I never knew it was possible."

"Yes, well, that and a prosperous estate and a dozen or so journals. I don't suppose I have much room to complain."

"Journals?" Derek repeated. "What journals?"

"I don't know. Some ledgers the old man kept for a hundred years."

Derek's brow cinched together.

"Wasn't there a bit of a rumor about the baron being some sort of writer of the erotica?" Derek leaned back. "Supposedly, it was a well-known secret amongst the ton."

Gavin rolled his eyes. So he wasn't the only one to know about it.

"Every peer with a journal thinks he's a modern-day Marquis de Sade," Silas spoke absently. "But I'm sure it's nothing more than a few personal experiences."

"Oh, and I should want to read that," Gavin said sarcastically as he gazed off around the room.

Dozens of gaming tables stood in a wide-open space. The club was quiet for an afternoon, but there were still a handful of men here and there, playing cards or reading the paper. Gavin knew one or two gentlemen personally, while another young man seemed familiar, though his face kept disappearing behind the shoulder of another.

But that wasn't what he was focusing on.

Against the back wall were two sets of doors. The left set followed a hallway that led to the billiards and private card-playing rooms. The ones on the right led to several dozen apartments where members could sleep off their drunken stupor or be entertained by one of the nightingale ladies who frequented the club each night.

Though he had entertained the idea, the moment Gavin's eyes landed on the doors that would lead him to a wench, he frowned. He could go over there and meet his needs, but he knew already that his appetite wouldn't be stated.

He took another bite of his roll and returned his attention to his friends. Both were staring at him in the most agitating way.

"What?"

"Nothing," Silas said, his gaze falling on Trembley.

"You seem not yourself, Gavin," Trembley said. "There's a weight about your shoulders such as I haven't seen in some time."

"There'd be a weight on you as well if you suddenly found yourself married with two dependents, one of which is trying to send my wife into an early grave."

The term my wife seemed to vibrate in the air, and Gavin inwardly groaned, preparing himself for one of Trembley's lectures. Only, as he waited, no one spoke.

"It can be burdensome," Trembley said slowly. "But there is a satisfaction that comes with being responsible for those who depend on you."

Gavin glanced at his oldest friend with astonishment.

"Good god, you sound like your father," he said as Silas let out a chuckle, while Trembley only appeared slightly annoyed. "I've no need to find satisfaction in any of it. My peace will be restored once the season is over. As soon as Holly's sister is married, the farm that forms her brother's inherence is restored to functionality, and our marriage is annulled, I should be squarely back where I was before my uncle's meddling."

"And where was that?"

"Alone."

Gavin was sure Silas and Trembley were exchanging expressions. He had tried to make his tone light, but it had come out rather miserable. Though he had tried to make the best of his day, it seemed his dark mood would not release him.

After a moment, Silas spoke.

"An annulment might not be as clear cut as you assume, unfortunately. Speaking from experience, the public can be wildly invasive. Take it from someone who's lived that life."

"You were divorced though. An annulment is completely different."

"Not in the eyes of the ton."

"And I should care because?"

"Well, not you. But Holly might suffer. She won't be accepted. Of course, she'll always have our support, but two people in a city of nearly two million is hardly fair."

Gavin disliked the idea of Holly being snubbed by society, but he knew she would rather have their connection severed. She simply did not wish to marry him, and he wouldn't try to hold on, even if he found the entire thing rather convenient.

He was about to explain as much when raised voices suddenly sounded from one of the gaming tables. All three men turned to see what the commotion was about when a man, whose back was facing them, pushed another, sending him to the floor.

"Gates!" The wide-shouldered man yelled for the factotum, an employee who did several jobs at White's. "Toss this swine out!"

Jeremy Gates, an even-tempered man Gavin had known for several years, appeared, coming down the rounded staircase.

"What's this about?" he asked as several men picked up the youth who had been pushed.

Gavin squinted, unsure if he saw correctly. The partial profile of the young man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's cheating! I saw him move a card up his sleeve."

"That's a serious allegation, Lord Sundale," Gates said, coming around. "Oi! What's your name?"

But before the factotum could get an answer, the accused simultaneously stomped on the foot of the man holding him and knocked his head backward, hitting the other man in the mouth. With a grisly roar, the man stumbled back, releasing the youth, who darted between others as he escaped. Gavin, Silas, and Derek stood as he ran out, but not before his eyes caught Gavin's.

Bloody hell. Was that Jasper? What in the world was he doing in London?

Without thinking, Gavin pushed passed his friends and ran after the young man.

"Where are you going?" Silas called after him.

"Let the house take care of him!" Derek shouted.

But Gavin was out the front doors and down the front steps in moments, staring into the crowded street. Had that been Jasper? Why wasn't he in Eton? And how the devil had he been allowed into White's? He couldn't find the familiar face and, after several more minutes of searching, was caught on the shoulder by Silas's hand.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Did you know him?"

"I don't know. I thought I might."

"He was a young lad," Trembley said, coming down the steps. "Not someone I recognize as friends with either of my brothers. I don't believe I've ever seen him before."

"No, it wouldn't be through them that I know him. I thought it was Holly's brother, Jasper."

Silas tilted his head.

"One of the twins? Clara mentioned that they aren't even eighteen."

"Yes, and he should be in school," Gavin said, peering around. He shook his head, giving up. "Perhaps he was only a lookalike." He sighed. "Well, I'm afraid I must be going. I've got to visit my old apartments and sort out what should be done with them."

"Very good," Derek said.

"Oh, Clara wanted to host a dinner party tomorrow night. Just for us and the families. A pre-season feast, she says. You both will attend, yes?" Silas asked. Gavin nodded. "Trembley? Your mother and brothers are invited of course."

"You'll only have Fredrick's company, I'm afraid. Alfred is still in the Americas."

"Still?" Gavin asked.

"Yes. Although he is set to return in about two months' time. I expect my mother will want to throw a welcome home party for him."

"And maybe you'll host one of your infamous card games?"

Derek smirked but shook his head.

"I'm afraid I've put those days behind me. Besides, hardly anyone would show after all that to-do last year," Derek said, eyeing Silas.

"Yes, well…" the duke said with a shrug as he donned his hat. "Tomorrow night then?"

They all agreed and nodded their goodbyes, disappearing in three directions as they left. Though Gavin tried to focus on what needed to be packed away and what should stay once he arrived at his apartments in Marylebone, he couldn't shake the sense that he had seen Jasper. He would need to inform Holly immediately when he returned to Bairnsdale Terrace.

Having settled on a list of things that needed to be packed away, including his wardrobe, ledgers, and the like, Gavin made his way home. By the time he reached Berkeley Square, the sun was setting.

Upon his arrival, he was informed that dinner was just being served. Perfect , he thought as he shrugged out of his coat. He was starving. But it wasn't just Aunt Marnie, Holly, and Katrina at the table. To his surprise, he found Mr. Armstrong was there as well when he entered the dining room. Gavin's gaze immediately settled on Holly, whose pursed lips made him curious.

"Mr. Armstrong," Gavin said, walking down the length of the table. "I didn't know you were coming for supper."

"I only just arrived, and the baroness insisted," the lawyer said, appearing somewhat uncomfortable.

"Yes, I thought it would be nice to have the company," she said stiffly as Aunt Marnie spoke.

"My brother made a fine match for you, he has," she said sarcastically, staring daggers at Holly. "Never in my life have I ever met someone so argumentative."

Gavin sat, suddenly aware of what the tension was about.

"Is that so?" he said mildly, giving his aunt a disbelieving look.

"It is! She doesn't like the fact that I knew my brother far better than she did—"

"I never said that," Holly said, her shoulders straight back as she refused to be cowed by the old woman. "I simply said John and I were good friends."

"He was a fornicator."

"He was a kind person," Holly said, her tone slightly louder as she turned to face Gavin. "But we are at an impasse, it seems."

"Aunt Marnie, I think you should accept the fact that there are plenty of people who quite liked your brother," Gavin said. "As much as you disapproved of him, there were plenty who didn't."

"Animals, the lot of them," she hissed.

He half expected her to continue with a lecturing tirade, as she had done so many times in the past, but to his surprise, she held her tongue. Curious, he wondered if his newly inherited position held her in place. She would not give Holly the respect she deserved as Gavin's wife, but she had been conditioned her entire life not to cross the head of the household. Of course, that had never stopped her from disparaging her brother behind his back, but Gavin suspected that she likely kept her mouth shut whenever she was in his presence.

Gavin took a sip of wine as the first course was served. Onion and beef broth soup was ladled into the delicate, floral pattern bowls before each guest. Gavin inhaled deeply, enjoying the scents of fresh rosemary bread, steamed asparagus, and carrots before turning to the lawyer.

"I'm assuming you've brought good news with you, Mr. Armstrong?"

Shifting uncomfortably as the top of his brow began to glisten with sweat, the lawyer gave Gavin a pained look.

"Actually," Holly said, catching his attention. "Mr. Armstrong has come barring… interesting news."

"Interesting news?" Gavin repeated. "What sort of interesting news?"

"Well, my lord, as you know, annulments can only be permitted in the following three cases. Fraud, incompetence, and…" he coughed, "…impotence."

Holly's cheeks turned a gentle shade of pink, and at first, Gavin thought she was embarrassed by the word. But when her hand came up to cover a smile, he had the peculiar sensation that he wouldn't enjoy what came out of the lawyer's mouth. He remained perfectly still.

"It has been a long day, Mr. Armstrong and I'm afraid my patience is not long. Please say what it is you've come to say."

"Of course, my lord. Well, you see, fraud is only described as using fictitious names. If either of you had used a nickname, for example, or if either one of you had signed only part of your name, that might have been enough to lay claim to fraud, but unfortunately it isn't the case. And as neither of you stand to lose any inheritance—"

"This woman is using the barony's money to finance her family's lifestyle—"

"And she's bloody well allowed to do so," Gavin snapped. "I will not hear one more word about your misguided worry for this title's spending habits." He turned back, focusing back on Mr. Armstrong. It seemed this day would not end without getting the better of his temper. "Go on, then. What about the fact that neither one of us was consenting? Would that not fall beneath fraud?"

"Yes, and I've tried my hardest to explain that, but… well, it's become more complicated, I'm afraid. Since neither of you appears to be incompetent, we couldn't claim that. So, the only option left would be to claim… well…"

The lawyer scanned between Gavin and Holly, unwilling to speak, but Gavin had lost all patience from the day, and this was undoubtedly the last thing he wanted to entertain. Mr. Armstrong was out of his bloody mind if he thought Gavin would claim impotence.

Standing up, he took the napkin draped over his lap and tossed it on the table.

"I'll take the rest of my supper in my room," he announced, motioning to one of the footmen. He turned to Holly, who was trying to keep her face blank. "We'll discuss our other options later."

The lawyer's eyes bulged as Gavin walked down the table.

"But my lord, what will you have me do?" he asked, turning in his seat.

"I'll have you finish your meal and see yourself out."

"About the marriage, my lord."

"Find another way."

"But if you only claimed impotency—"

"Mr. Armstrong, I've had a trying day and the last thing I wish to discuss, with you or anyone else, is my potency. And as I refuse to claim it anyway, you will simply have to find another way."

"But, sir—"

Gavin flung his hand over his shoulder as he left the dining room, irritation bubbling throughout his body.