Bride for a Night

They had arrived at Carrick Park yesterday, but he had been too weary to do more than climb the steps to the bedchamber he often

used during his stay in Devonshire and fall into bed. Now he leaned against the stone railing and considered his immediate plans.

He would have to return to London, of course. His abrupt departure with Gabriel would no doubt have stirred ridiculous rumors that must be squelched. Especially if they hoped to deceive the traitors into believing their treachery remained a secret, as Gabriel hoped.

And after that, he would be expected to return to his home in Derbyshire for a few weeks. His estates were not nearly so extensive as Carrick Park, but he possessed tenants and servants who depended upon him. And he enjoyed his time in the country. His father often claimed that Hugo was a farmer at heart.

But he doubted that Gabriel would be prepared to leave Carrick Park for at least a few days. Hell, Hugo doubted the man would be prepared to leave his wife’s bed for at least a week.

A rueful smile at the memory of Gabriel carrying his embarrassed bride up the marble staircase, his haste to reach the private chambers above obvious to the numerous servants who had gathered in the front foyer, curved his lips.

The image had barely formed in his mind when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he watched in surprise as Gabriel crossed the breakfast room and stepped onto the balcony.

The Earl of Ashcombe was as elegantly attired as always in a sable-brown jacket and ivory waistcoat, with a pair of dark breeches tucked into his glossy boots. His cravat was tied in a simple Oriental knot, but the linen was crisp, and a stunning emerald stickpin glittered among the folds.

But as he neared, Hugo could not fail to notice the hard line of his jaw or the disgruntled glint in his silver eyes.

Hugo leaned against the railing and folded his arms over his chest.

“I did not expect you to join me this morning,” he murmured.

“Neither did I,” Gabriel groused, his sullen gaze skimming over the untamed landscape before settling on his companion. “I assure you it was not my choice.”

Hugo gave a lift of his brows. “There is no need to growl,” he protested mildly. “If you thought I would be in need of your company, then you might as well return to your bride. I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”

“There is nothing I desire more than to spend the morning with my bride,” his friend informed him, “but I was very firmly turned out of her bedchamber.”

Hugo choked back a laugh, unable to believe any female would actually toss Gabriel from her bedchamber. The man had been ruthlessly pursued by women since he had left the schoolroom. “Holy hell.”

Gabriel glared at him with a decided lack of humor. “This is not amusing.”

“No, it is a tragic statement on your skills as a lover,” Hugo readily agreed. “If you wish, I can offer you a few suggestions to assist you in pleasing your wife. Perhaps then she will not boot you out of her bed.”

A startling color crawled beneath Gabriel’s lean face. Was the arrogant earl actually discomfited by Hugo’s teasing? Astonishing.

“I was not booted out of her bed,” he snapped. “And I most certainly do not need suggestions on pleasing my wife from a man who has become a misogynist over the past years.”

Hugo frowned, caught off guard by the accusation. Perhaps he had learned to avoid debutantes as if they carried the plague. And it had been a few months since he had given his last mistress her congé. But that did not mean that he disliked females. Bloody hell, he adored them when they were not attempting to trap him into marriage or pleading for yet another expensive bauble.

It was just…

He gave a restless shrug. It was just that he was searching for a female he was beginning to fear did not exist, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind.

It was a voice he was swift to dismiss as he gave a sharp shake of his head.

“Not a misogynist,” he corrected. “Merely a man who has grown weary of fortune hunters and their overzealous mothers.” He paused, a taunting smile slowly curving his lips. “Of course, if there were more females such as Talia I might reconsider my cynical opinion of the opposite sex.”

Predictably, Gabriel narrowed his gaze in warning. “Careful, old friend.”

Hugo chuckled, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I speak in general, not specific terms. I do not seek an early grave.”

Gabriel grunted, glancing over his shoulder as if hoping his bride might make a sudden appearance in the breakfast room.

“There are no other females to compare with my wife.”

“True,” Hugo agreed with a faint sigh.

He had not been entirely teasing when he had wished for a female such as Talia. It was not that he was in love with his friend’s wife, but she possessed a strength of character and an unwavering loyalty that he deeply admired. They were both all too rare qualities among society.