Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

from the ticking of the mantel clock and the creaking of Rigby’s chair as he occasionally rocked it back and forth, then stopped each time Darby threw him a cutting look.

      They’d been sitting there for over an hour now, the clock having struck the hour of seven not long since.

      “Do you ever remember Coop being so quiet, Darby? I don’t remember him ever being so quiet. Not that he’s the sort that talks your ear off, never was, but he’s just sitting there, Darby, just sitting there, staring at the drink he isn’t drinking. Making me nervous, that’s what he’s doing. What do you think, Darby?”

      “I’m thinking how you’d look with your neck cloth stuffed down your gullet,” the viscount said in his affable tone. “Let him alone. He was shot at, remember?”

      “That’s not it,” Coop said, dragging himself out of his thoughts. “I’ve been shot at more than once. By people with better aim. Dany was with me. Do you understand what that means?”

      “I don’t think so, no,” Darby said, looking at Rigby, who only shrugged his shoulders. “Why don’t you explain it for us.”

      “She could have been hit, you idiots. She could have been killed, just because she was with me. Because I was stupid enough, selfish enough, to want to be with her today, and damn the consequences. Because I underestimated Ferdie’s ability to improvise once he’d heard about Geoff’s broken arm.”

      “We’ve all underestimated Ferdie. You weren’t the only one.”

      Coop shook his head. “That’s still not it, not all of it.” He looked to his friends, and then lifted his drink, let the wine run down his gullet before flinging the glass into the fireplace.

      “Sad waste, that,” Rigby said. “They’ll put it on your bill, you know.”

      “The ever practical Jeremiah Rigby,” Darby said, chuckling.

      They subsided once more into silence.

      Rigby laid his head in his arms on the tabletop, and actually began to snore not two minutes later.

      Darby had pulled a slim book of poems from his waistcoat pocket, and was slowly turning the pages.

      The clock struck eight.

      “I’ll tell you what it is,” Coop said into the silence.

      Darby closed the slim book and replaced it in his waistcoat pocket.

      Then he nudged Rigby with the tip of his Hessian under the table, waking him. “It’s time.”

      “What? What? What did I miss?”

      “Nothing. The oracle is about to speak.”

      “I don’t know how either of you put up with me,” Coop said.

      “We like you, that’s why. Gabe says you keep us anchored, isn’t that right, Darby? Lord only knows where we’d all be if it weren’t for you being so commonsensible. Not that we’re half so wild now. Gabe’s all mellow with his Thea, me soon to be with Clary. Settles a man, having a woman in his life.”

      “And me, Rigby?” Darby asked.

      “Don’t even attempt to answer that,” Coop warned, still trying to shake off his doldrums.

      “I agree. I might be put to the blush. All right, Coop, you said you’re going to tell us something. We’re more than ready to listen.”

      “I learned something about myself today. I’d already figured out some of it, or else I’d have to condemn myself as a bastard, but it truly wasn’t until I heard the crack of that shot that it hit me squarely between the eyes, nearly jolting me from my seat.”

      “But the ball missed. Didn’t come anywhere near your eyes.”

      “Rigby, let the man speak.”

      “Sorry. Go on.”

      “No, that’s all right. I’m the one being melodramatic here. It...it’s just all so new to me.” He looked at his friends once more. “I realized, in just that split second, that if I died today, my only regret would be leaving Dany. And...and if she had died today, I’d have no reason to go on.”

      Rigby put a hand on Coop’s forearm. “I understand.”

      “Unfortunately,” Darby said, “so do I. And it’s my fault. It was my plan to have you two engage in that sham betrothal. How will you ever convince your Miss Foster that you truly love her? That’s what this is all about tonight. You’re intent on stopping Ferdie, yes. We all are. But for you, there’s a separate problem. Because, although it’s most certainly obvious to us that you love the woman—yes, even to me—it may not be quite so visible to her. I’m sorry.”

      “Now I don’t understand,” Rigby said. “The truth should serve well enough. Just tell her, Coop. Tell her. Do you want me to...?”

      “No!” The answer came from both Coop and Darby.

      “There’s more,” Coop said, lacing his fingers together, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “All I wanted to do was deliver Dany and Harry to her sister and then drive straight off to run Ferdie to ground, and wring his neck. I was seeing the world through a red haze of anger, and it took everything within me to return here, wait for the two of you to talk me out of throwing away every happiness I might hope for, just for the satisfaction of seeing that bastard dead.”

      “See? He’s still the sensible one,” Rigby said, sounding satisfied. “You did just right, Coop. You always do. Now, what do we do?”

      Coop reached across the table and picked up the wine bottle. As he raised it to his lips, he smiled. “Now, you see, Rigby, I was hoping you might have the answer to that question. You’ve been bloody brilliant so far.”

      His friend blushed to the roots of his hair. “Yes, I have been, haven’t I? Although it was Clary who first complained that things certainly would be easier all ’round if we could pen the third volume. I pointed out that we’d need a printer for that, and she, dearest, dearest Clary, gave me a slap on the arm and said, ‘Well, then, Jerry, let’s go find ourselves one.’”

      “You’re marrying above yourself, friend,” Darby commented drily. “Did she happen to mention how we’re to rid Coop of his nemesis?”

      “No.” Rigby’s chin sank into his neck cloth. “I asked, mind you, but she said she’d been brilliant enough for one day and her shoes pinched so I should take her back to the duchess. Perhaps tomorrow I could apply to her again?”

      “I don’t think there’s anything more we can do tonight, in any case,” Coop told them quickly, before Darby could comment on their friend’s last statement. “Unless you two are of a mind to climb Ferdie’s gutter pipe and take a turn at housebreaking. There’s still the matter of the countess’s letters to retrieve, remember? I doubt Ferdie will hand them over willingly.”

      Darby gestured down at his well-cut evening clothes. “I fear I’m not dressed for the occasion. I hesitated to mention it earlier, but it appears you’ve both forgotten Lady Huddleston’s ball this evening. As his lordship is known to keep a high-stakes card room to amuse the gentlemen, most everyone will be there, either to gamble or to watch.”

      “Including Ferdie,” Coop said, his mind already whirling. He was beginning to feel better, even if not fully in charge of himself quite yet. It was good to have his anger behind him, his fear for Dany behind him. And Darby and Rigby had patiently waited for him to come back to his senses. He couldn’t have better friends. “And if he’s there, then housebreaking doesn’t sound all that impossible. Rigby, are you up for a small adventure?”

      “Not yet nine. I’d told our friends here we’d give you until ten to come up with a plan. Congratulations. Rigby, I believe I owe you ten quid.” Darby was already getting to his feet. “Now, since I’m the only one dressed for it, I’ll adjourn to Lady Huddleston’s, and keep an eye on Ferdie.