Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

T wo days before the wedding, Christian eyed himself in the mirror and nodded to his valet, Beckett, who dutifully left the room.

Christian spent an inordinate amount of time getting dressed in the morning—far longer than any of his acquaintances. His closest friend, Gabriel Harding, often teased him about taking as long as a woman might.

Everything has a place and a purpose.

He brushed a white speck from his shoulder, turning from side to side to ensure everything was perfect before straightening his shirt cuffs for the third time.

He was pleased with the new fob watch that had arrived that morning. The gold chain gleamed in his waistcoat pocket.

His cravat would never sit correctly, and he moved it from left to right, trying to get the thing to settle. Whatever Beckett did, it never looked centered to his exacting eyes.

Knowing that Gabriel would be calling shortly, Christian gave himself a final once-over before making his way downstairs. He was grateful to find a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on his desk, as well as the newspapers from that morning.

Since Marcus’s disappearance, he checked the small advertisements every morning, wondering if his brother might have left him a clue in a line of ink. But there was nothing, just as there had been no sign of him for all these months.

Taking a seat with a heavy sigh, he set about going through his correspondence and missives from his tenants. It was well over an hour before a soft knock sounded at the door and a footman announced that the Duke of Stonewell had arrived.

Christian was grateful for the break. He realized that he had quite forgotten to drink his coffee, having concentrated heavily on estate matters. As Gabriel entered the room, he requested that some more be brought.

Although Christian knew he was always dressed to perfection, achieving that high standard took him an age. Gabriel, on the other hand, always looked immaculate, even when he had just rolled out of bed. The man could appear elegant in his shirt sleeves, and today was no exception.

His dark hair was swept back from his face, his brown eyes heavy-lidded and tired. They were so dark they appeared almost black, and his grim expression and stubbled jaw made him look particularly menacing this morning.

“What time did you get home last night?” Christian asked curiously.

“Get home?” Gabriel snorted. “I have come straight from a soirée, old boy. Nights at the card table with Arkley never end early.”

Christian stared at him. Gabriel had not slept, but he looked utterly flawless. He clearly hadn’t changed before coming here, yet he appeared smarter than Christian did.

Christian scowled at him, and Gabriel gave him a knowing smirk.

“New watch?” Gabriel asked pointedly.

The man misses nothing.

“Yes,” Christian replied defensively. “Not all of us spend our fortunes in gambling hells.”

“You insult me, Sir. I also spend it on boots and horses.”

Christian snorted as Gabriel took a seat across from him and crossed his long legs. He leaned back and observed him with a hard stare that Christian knew too well.

“How are you feeling about your impending nuptials? This week has flown by. I swear you only told me a few hours ago, yet we are two days away from the great event.”

“How would you expect me to feel?”

“If it were me, I would be giddy for finally triumphing over that pompous oaf. Northbridge must be livid. I imagine it has dealt a blow to his standing at The Devils. His debts must be well known to all by now—I do not think there is a nobleman in London to whom he does not owe money.”

Christian shot him an exasperated glare. “I have been clear about this, Gabe. This is not simply about revenge. I need to know what happened to Marcus.”

Gabriel leaned forward, his hands spread wide before him. “But why now? It’s been six months since Marcus’s accident. What do you think you will uncover?”

Christian opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out the letter he had received. “Read this,” he said, thrusting it to Gabriel, who took it and ran his eyes over the scrawled lines within. “The constable on the case has written to tell me that they found the site of the accident but no body. Therefore, Marcus might still be alive. I only dared to hope before, but if he was not killed in the crash, what other explanation is there?”

Christian felt an echo of anger course through him as he stared at the letter. It had arrived the morning he had chosen to pursue Lady Louise at any cost, determined to find out the truth once and for all.

A soft knock suddenly sounded at the door, and a servant entered the room, bearing a coffee tray. Christian waited for the servant to finish pouring the coffee before continuing.

“The only man who can explain what happened to him is Lord Northbridge, I am certain of it. For many days, I have been maneuvering pieces into place to entrap him and find out the truth. He is growing more desperate as time goes by. Even now, I own the deed to his house. He has nothing, has lost everything, and will be destitute. He must confess the truth if he wishes to retain a shadow of his former position.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “How did you obtain the deed to his house?”

“He lost it at cards.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Is there anything the man hasn’t lost at cards?”

“Quite. I certainly won’t be giving it back without an incentive, if at all. I shall dangle it above his head so that he believes he might escape with his dignity, but he will not. When I wed his daughter, my control over his future will be complete.”

“And you’re sure he had something to do with Marcus’s disappearance?”

“I am.”

There was a long pause, and Christian could feel the weight of his friend’s gaze on him. He frowned as he placed his cup back on the saucer.

“Blast it all, what? I told you about this plan weeks ago.”

“You did,” Gabriel murmured, staring off into the distance.

“He will not be able to marry his daughter off to anyone else after tomorrow. I shall own him, for better or worse. There is nothing else he has to offer anyone. He certainly cannot pay his debts and will have to beg me if he wants to regain control of his fortune.”

The fire crackled in the background as Christian waited for Gabriel to speak. His friend was not a man who rushed into a discussion without thinking it through—Christian could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“Why her?” Gabriel eventually asked.

“You know why. She is the quickest route to her father.”

“You have ruined him already. You said it yourself, he has nothing left to lose. You have already won. Why complicate things? I saw the way she looked at you. She hates you, man. Do you really think marriage is the next step? You could do as much damage by tupping her and leaving her in the gutter.”

Christian recoiled at those words. It was an involuntary reaction that he could neither control nor deny. Gabriel did not miss it.

“Hmm. What is she to you, then?”

“What?” Christian balked at the very notion. “She isn’t anything to me. You can hardly blame a man for being revolted by the idea of ruining a woman on account of her father’s conduct. That was cold, even for you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “The apple never falls far from the tree. You might be marrying someone just as bad as Northbridge.”

“Even so. Half the ton wish to tame her; I shall take great pride in being the man to do it.”

“If you can,” Gabriel said darkly. “You do not know what you are getting yourself into—that is my worry. You made this choice for Marcus, and it is a noble one, but you will be married. That is not a trivial matter that one can simply undo when one is finished. Suppose you find out that Marcus is dead and that Northbridge was not involved—that it was an accident. Then what?”

“Then Lady Louise and I shall live separate lives. Many other couples do. I hardly need to marry for love.”

Christian’s voice was sharper than he had meant it to be, and Gabriel raised his hands defensively.

“Very well. Do not say I didn’t warn you when the Iron Harridan turns on you.”

“If our marriage goes as planned,” Christian said steadily, “she will have no opportunity to do so.”