“I would never have guessed it from the gossip. Word is you’ve been avoiding her, spending all your evenings at your club. This is the first time you’ve even been seen together in public. Rumor has it that yours is not a happy union.”
“That much is true. I essentially had to coerce Brynn to the altar, and she hasn’t forgiven me for it yet.” He felt his friend’s penetrating gaze. “But I can at least put the rumors to rest about my not wanting her.”
The marquess grimaced. “I hope you don’t mean to curtail your activities with the League? When Sin wed, he forgot all about his Hellfire companions, claiming he was stricken by the hopeless malady called love.”
Lucian nodded at the memory. Damien Sinclair, known as Lord Sin to the ton, had been one of their leading members before he fell hard for a beautiful widow who had acted as companion to his invalid sister.
“I’m afraid I’ve already begun to curtail my activities,” Lucian said.
“In the name of respectability?”
“Primarily. I owe it to my name and title to put my wilder days behind me.”
Dare gave a deep sigh that was only slightly exaggerated. “This is a dark day for libertines. We will miss you, Luce.”
Trying to shake off his somber mood, Lucian glanced pointedly at the other nobleman. “I needn’t warn you to keep away from my wife, do I, Dare?”
“Certainly not.” He flashed an amiable grin. “I would never poach on a friend’s private preserve. I have that much honor.”
Lucian nodded. Dare’s devil-may-care charm hid a surprising depth of intellect and feeling, though he seldom revealed it. And while he might not flinch at cuckolding an adversary, he would never betray a friend-Lucian would have wagered his life on it.
“Your wife seems to be quite the center of attention at the moment,” Dare mused aloud.
Lucian followed his gaze to find a knot of gentlemen gathered around Brynn. From the looks of it, they were publicly vying for her favors.
He felt himself stiffen. He couldn’t blame them for being entranced by her vibrant beauty, but it incensed him all the same. As did his inability to control his jealousy.
Just then the crowd suddenly parted, and Lucian realized an altercation had sprung up between two of the archers. Even from a distance, he could see Brynn was in the thick of it.
Frozen by incredulity, Lucian watched as the fight showed no signs of abating. One gentleman struck the other, then was felled to the ground with a reciprocal blow. When Brynn stepped between them, she was nearly bowled over-
Lucian felt a surge of fear that shook him from his stupor. Lunging into action, he sprinted across the lawn, intent on protecting her. When he reached the two combatants, he grasped the first one by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet.
Hard on Lucian’s heels, his friend Dare took hold of the second brawler, while Raven began chiding both fighters in a fierce undertone.
“Stop this nonsense at once, both of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves, causing such a spectacle.”
“But I wanted to be the one to teach Lady Wycliff,” Lord Hogarth said plaintively, wincing in pain as Lucian’s choking hold tightened on his collar.
“She said I could have the honor,” Pickering muttered.
Brynn stood to one side now, looking shaken. When Lucian eyed her narrowly, her cheeks flushed with guilt and she turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.
Lucian felt a swell of anger. His first instinct was to pummel both young bucks with his fists for fighting over his wife. His second was outrage at Brynn herself for being the cause of their brawl.
When Hogarth began to cough, however, Lucian forced himself to release his grip.
Raven was still venting her fury on the hapless miscreants. Both gentlemen appeared chastened now, and both sported wounds: one a bloody lip, the other an eye that would doubtless turn black and blue.
When she fell silent, Dare spoke up, making light of the situation in an evident attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps this might be the ideal time to return to the house for refreshment.”
“Yes,” Raven agreed, still fuming. “We have had quite enough entertainment for one afternoon.”
The crowd dispersed then, one of the gentlemen limping, the other carrying himself rigidly as if nursing a grudge.
Brynn would have followed, but Lucian caught her arm and said in a dangerous voice, “I thought I warned you about the need for propriety.”
She stiffened at his touch. “I was simply learning to shoot,” she replied, her chin lifting with a measure of defiance.