On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons 8)

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

Gregory rose to his knees beside her, one arm draped protectively over her shoulder. Haselby viewed the tableau with patent amusement, and perhaps just a touch of pleasure as well.

“Do you still desire that annulment?” he asked.

Lucy nodded.

“I’ll have the papers drawn up tomorrow.”

“Are you certain?” Lucy asked, concerned. He was a lovely man, really. She didn’t want his reputation to suffer.

“Lucy!”

She turned quickly to Gregory. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I just—”

Haselby gave her a wave. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. It was the best thing that could possibly have happened. Shootings, blackmail, treason…No one will ever look to me as the cause of the annulment now.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” Lucy said brightly. She rose to her feet because, well, it seemed only polite, given how generous he was being. “But do you still wish for a wife? Because I could help you find one, once I’m settled, that is.”

Gregory’s eyes practically rolled back in his head. “Good God, Lucy.”

She watched as he stood. “I feel I must make this right. He thought he was getting a wife. In a way, it’s not precisely fair.”

Gregory closed his eyes for a long moment. “It is a good thing I love you so well,” he said wearily, “because otherwise, I should have to fit you with a muzzle.”

Lucy’s mouth fell open. “Gregory!” And then, “Hermione!”

“Sorry!” Hermione said, one hand still clapped over her mouth to muffle her laughter. “But you are well-matched.”

Haselby strolled into the room and handed her uncle a handkerchief. “You’ll want to staunch that,” he murmured. He turned back to Lucy. “I don’t really want a wife, as I’m sure you’re aware, but I suppose I must find some way to procreate or the title’ll go to my odious cousin. Which would be a shame, really. The House of Lords would surely elect to disband if ever he decided to take up his seat.”

Lucy just looked at him and blinked.

Haselby smiled. “So, yes, I should be grateful if you found someon

e suitable.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

“You’ll need my approval, too,” Lord Davenport blustered, marching forward.

Gregory turned to him with unveiled disgust. “You,” he bit off, “may shut up. Immediately.”

Davenport drew back in a huff. “Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking, you little whelp?”

Gregory’s eyes narrowed and he rose to his feet. “To a man in a very precarious position.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You will cease your blackmail immediately,” Gregory said sharply.

Lord Davenport jerked his head toward Lucy’s uncle. “He was a traitor!”

“And you chose not to turn him in,” Gregory snapped, “which I would imagine the king would find equally reprehensible.”

Lord Davenport staggered back as if struck.