Chapter 18
The door ripped open and the sound of thunderous footsteps filled the foyer.
“Where the devil is the bastard?” Harley roared.
Rob lifted the brandy to his lips and drank. He wasn’t drunk. Not yet. No, he’d need a few wits to negotiate this dance. He didn’t want to have to face Harley on a field at dawn. And then lose on purpose. After all, he was in the wrong. Very, very wrong.
Royland stood by the fire and sighed, “Here we go.”
When Rob had arrived, he’d immediately told Raventon and Royland that Harley would be there within moments to pound him into the floor and rightly so.
Their job was to ensure nobody died this night in a fit of passion.
If anyone was up to the task, it was Raventon and Royland, both men with tempers and passions of their own that they’d long ago learned to check.
Harley’s boot falls pounded up the steps. The sound of him charging down the first landing echoed through the entire house, and when he strode through the already open doorway of the large, masculine study, his eyes flashed with fury.
Harley spotted Rob and stopped, his entire being crackling with rage. His chest pumped up and down, his cravat askew as if he’d torn at it on the ride over. He stood like that for a long moment, merely breathing but then he roared, “You pox-ridden ass.”
Rob lifted his glass and inclined his head. “Indeed.”
With that, Harley cut across the room in three steps, hauled back his fist and slammed it into Rob’s jaw.
Since Rob made no attempt to avoid the blow, his head cracked back and he grimaced as the sensation that his teeth had been knocked into the previous century flooded him.
Harley seized his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. “What the hell were you doing with my sister?”
“What I shouldn’t,” he gritted as he tongued the laceration in his cheek now pouring blood.
“What you shouldn’t?” Harley echoed, his face hard. “We’re supposed to be friends.”
Rob waited for the next onslaught but was able to reply, “We are.”
Harley looked like a man possessed as he growled, “We were.”
Royland began calmly, “Harley—”
“Did you ruin her?” Harley demanded, ignoring the attempt to calm the situation, obviously in no mood for intervention. “Because she bloody well looked like she’d been ruined when she walked into our house.”
Rob remained silent for a moment then, determined to be honest, said, “Yes.”
Harley’s eyes flared and he went for Rob’s throat. “You utter arse!”
As soon as Harley’s hands had wrapped about his neck, Rob braced himself, holding fast on Harley’s forearms. Resisting just enough to ensure he wouldn’t asphyxiate. He didn’t truly believe Harley wished to commit murder.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Harley ground out as he tried to tighten his hands but then his eyes flashed with the realization he was, indeed, attempting murder and he shoved Rob away.
Rob nearly stumbled but caught himself on the fireplace mantel and whipped around. “I wasn’t. Harry has a way of stealing my reason.”
“Clearly,” Harley snarled. He curled his lip then stilled, his chest pumping up and down. “Do you love her?”
“Love her?” Rob echoed.
“Good God,” Harley roared. “I ought to pound you into the floor until you’re a wet pulp.”
“Please do,” Rob said, savoring the idea of punishment for being no better than his father or brother.
“No,” Harley said coldly. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of feeling as though you’ve paid for what you’ve done. You have to marry her, you know? Bloody hell, I think half the square saw her climb down from your coach looking as if she’d rolled through the hay.”
Rob winced. He hadn’t even thought of that. How could he have not thought of that? He was no innocent. He’d had more trysts than he could possibly count and, yet, he’d clearly not contemplated the ramifications of letting her leave his coach. She truly did steal his ability to reason.
Rob swallowed. “I’ll marry her, but. . . if there was a way I couldn’t. . .”
“Couldn’t? Couldn’t what?” Harley demanded as Royland and Raventon stood watching the interchange like theatergoers at the play house. “Is her portion not large enough for you, Rob? Are you that far gone?”
Rob blanched. “No. I fear I will not make her happy.”
“You should have thought about that before you let her in your coach.”
“Let and your sister are not compatible words,” Rob replied.
Harley sighed and plowed a hand through his hair. “You damned well better make her happy or I’m going to make your life hell.”
“It already is,” said Rob.
“Oh, old boy.” Harley leveled him with a ball-crushing stare. “If you think you’re in hell now, just wait.”
Royland held up his hand. “He’s going to do the right thing.”
“The right thing would have been pitching her out of the coach the moment she got in.” Harley’s eyes narrowed. “Or did you invite her?”
Rob shook his head wildly. “No. That I didn’t do. But she felt compelled to pursue me.”
“And why is that, exactly? What inducement did you give her?” Raventon suddenly asked, with a surprising dose of skepticism.
Rob looked from Raventon to Royland then back to Raventon. All his friends were furious with him, he knew, but Raventon and Royland were supposed to keep this at least within the bounds of mild bloodshed, not all out war.
He drew in a slow breath, searching for a lie. Any viable lie. “She discovered something about me and wished to confront me about it.”
“Oh?” Harley mocked. “So, she sought you out during the opera, followed you to your coach, climbed in and what?”
“It does sound rather hard to believe, old man,” Royland said, his tiger-colored eyes doubtful.
“Did you mean to seduce her?” Raventon asked carefully. “We’ve always been honest with each other. She’s a beautiful lady.”
“Don’t you start,” Harley snapped.
Rob couldn’t breathe. He knew what he had to do. But he’d never thought it would come to this. “She found out. . . she found out—”
“That he’s a highwayman,” Drake said from the doorway.
All three men whipped towards the towering, blond duke whose blue eyes cut like diamonds.
Royland threw back his head and laughed.
“Don’t be absurd.” Raventon snorted. “Rob? A highwayman? The man’s as straight and true as a rod.”
Drake leaned against the doorframe and said casually, “Shall you tell them, Rob, or should I?”
Rob’s shoulders sank. “It’s not absurd.”
“A highwayman?” Harley repeated, aghast.
“The Gentleman Highwayman,” Drake said, his eyes glowing with humor.
They stared at Rob then a chorus of stunned disbelief surrounded him.
“You?” Raventon demanded.
“Bloody hell, man,” Royland drawled.
“You. . . you saved my sister and mother the other night,” Harley said tightly.
Rob gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I told you they needed more able servants.”
“So you did,” Harley said, looking like he’d been run over by a coach and four. “So, to be clear, you might end up dancing the Tyburn Jig before you marry my sister?”
“Don’t get any ideas there, Harley,” Drake said. “You’re sister would still be ruined and by a highwayman, no less.”
Harley rolled his eyes. “How the hell has this happened? No wonder she followed you. She’s been following your exploits for the last six months. Christ, she has a box of gossips rags all featuring you.”
“She does?” Rob asked, stunned to find he both enjoyed the idea and was simultaneously horrified by it. Was Harry drawn to Rob? Or the idea of a romantic highwayman? The difference had never really occurred to him before.
“She does,” Harley repeated, sighing.
“But a highwayman?” Royland challenged. “They’re a dying breed what with Peel and Fielding.”
Rob nodded. “It was a precarious business, but no better for getting ahold of ready cash quickly.”
Harley gaped at him, his green eyes flashing. “It was that bad?”
Rob tensed, feeling like he’d just had to rip the bandage off a terrible wound. “Worse.”
Drake nodded. “Our friend found himself in a position with no credit, none, and more debt than Prinny and it seems he was reticent to take a bride to rectify his situation.”
“Truly?” Raventon asked, gaping.
Rob smiled without humor. “Let’s just say we have just enough furniture to trick guests into believing we are still solvent.”
“Good God,” Harley breathed. “And of course, my sister will solve all of that. Is that why—”
“No!” Rob protested quickly. “If anything, I tried to convince her I’m not what she thinks.”
“She thinks you’re a highwayman,” Harley said flatly.
“Yes.” Rob shook his head. “She also thinks I’m a good man.”
Royland sighed. “Women are most confusing.”
“Not really,” Raventon replied. “They are ever the optimists. Quite nice, really.”
“Not when it means they won’t give up,” Rob replied tightly.
Harley cocked his head to the side, a deadly look in his eyes. “Are you suggesting my sister seduced you?”
Rob held up his hands. “No.”
“Then what?” Harley demanded.
“If you must know, I think we seduced each other.” Good God, it all felt so confusing. For neither one of them had led that dance. Oh no, they’d led each other. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Clearly, you know little of planning,” Harley sneered, “given your current state of affairs.”
Rob’s heart sank. “I’ll grant you that.”
“Now what?” Royland asked, glancing from man to man.
“Pistols at dawn?” Drake asked gleefully. “I’m delighted to be anyone’s second.”
“After the wedding,” Harley growled. “I won’t have my sister’s life ruined entirely.”
But what if marrying me ruins it, Rob wanted to protest, but he knew better. At this moment, there was only one course of action. And that action was before a bishop. Tomorrow.
Harley strode forward. “You’re lucky I like your mother. You’re bloody lucky that the only way out of this is for you to try to make my sister happy.”
Rob nodded and he glanced at Drake who was eyeing him knowingly.
Because Rob didn’t feel lucky at all. He’d rather face Tyburn, frankly, than this marriage. But he wasn’t about to abandon Harry to total scandal. No, that would make him worse than his father and brother. But the very fact that he had to marry her at all meant one thing. He was just as bad. And so, he swore once again to himself, that his line of selfish, cursed men would end. . . with him.
Somehow, Harriet was going to just have to accept that fact. He hoped being a duchess would be enough. Because that was all she was ever going to have from this marriage. And he bloody hated himself for taking so much from her.
Harley grabbed the brandy bottle then drank. He scowled at Rob, his fury still palpable, but then he passed the brandy. “To family, you complete arse.”
Rob took the bottle, unable to whisper the darkest secret of his heart; that family, in the end, was the reason he’d never make Harry happy. It was why Harley would never, ever forgive him. And Rob wouldn’t be able to blame him, because he was never going to forgive himself.