Where to Woo a Bawdy Baron (Romancing the Rake 3)

“All safe.” Crestwood winked at Dashlane and himself. “So there is no need to have Dashlane or Craven over for dinner.”

Chris’s stomach flipped as though he didn’t want to get out of the invitation. Which was absurd. He’d do well to leave Bianca alone. That’s why he’d remained silent. He was no woman’s hero.

Juliet clutched his arm. “Oh but my lords, you’ve all been so very helpful. I must insist that you come for dinner.”

Craven frowned. He’d have to reject the invitation. Bianca unsettled him. She was already working past several of his carefully erected defenses and he simply couldn’t have it.

Chapter Four

The men walked back to the village, silence falling between them.

Chris didn’t mind a bit but Dashlane had cleared his throat several times. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not going to any dinner.”

No one answered. For Chris’s part, he couldn’t worry about Dashlane, he had his own issues to sort out. And for the first time in his adult life, he might need his friends to talk him through it. “Can I ask you both a question?”

Crestwood stopped, his dark hair blowing in the breeze. “I’ve never heard you say those words before.”

“I’ve never needed to ask you a question before,” Chris said, turning to look at his friend.

Dashlane scrubbed his scalp. “We need to get out of this village, posthaste. There is some sort of sorcery afoot.” He pulled his hands from his hair, leaving the locks sticking straight out. “You missed your boat,” he said to Crestwood. Then he turned to Chris. “And you are asking questions.”

Crestwood cocked a brow. “Pull yourself together, would you? You should see what you just did to your hair.”

Dashlane snorted, smoothing the locks back into place. “Easy for you to say. You seem to like the girl you were paired off with this morning.”

“Juliet is quite pretty,” Chris said, rubbing his neck as he thought of the redhead who’d taken a liking to his friend.

“She talks all the time,” Dashlane snorted.

Another bout of irritation bristled along his skin. Bianca talked often too. That didn’t make her bad. In fact, she was quite lovely. “What’s wrong with that?”

Dashlane shrugged. “Nothing at all. If you like that sort. You, for example, would make an excellent partner for a woman like that. If the lady didn’t talk, the two of you might go days without saying a word.”

“Partner?” Chris nearly choked on the word. He’d never considered himself or any of his friends marriage material. “You expect to marry?” For his part, he’d be damned to hell before he continued his bloodline. There was nothing there worth perpetuating. Only violence and anger filled his past.

Dashlane shrugged. “Of course we’ll marry. We’ll all marry. We’re lords. We need heirs. But I intend to marry a woman whom I can at least tolerate.”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t think I will marry. Not ever.”

Both men turned to him then. They wore near-matching looks of incredibility. “Not marry?” Crestwood asked. “I am a debaucher of the first order and even I plan to take a wife eventually.”

Craven shook his head. They didn’t understand. And he didn’t have plans to educate them. His father had little love for anyone. His son least of all. His mother had done her duty and provided a male heir, which meant she was mostly met with indifference and only the occasional bouts of explosive anger. But his childhood had been anything but happy and he had no intention of recreating such a circumstance. “I don’t.”

“What about maintaining your bloodline?” Dashlane asked, arching his hands wide circular motion.

Chris gave him a stone stare back. The one that told the other man to mind his own damned business. “I’m sure I have a cousin somewhere who will take it over when I’m gone.”

Crestwood shook his head. “An untrained man? That’s your plan?”

Chris started walking again. He didn’t need to justify his actions to anyone. “And what’s your plan? Does it involve a Moorish sister?”

Crestwood visibly jolted. “Of course not.”

Dashlane chuckled. “See. We’re all of the same mind. Now, we know we can’t go north. The bridge is still out. So, I vote we climb into Crestwood’s carriage and return to London. Posthaste. What’s keeping us here?”

The men fell silent. Chris had meant every word he’d said. He didn’t plan to marry and certainly not a woman as delightful as Bianca. What could he possibly know about keeping a woman like that happy?

But he also wasn’t ready to leave her here knowing how she was being teased. Somehow, helping her with this problem had become important to him. “I’m not leaving yet but you two are welcome to go. I’ll find my way back to London when I’m ready.”