Page 48 of The Dare Before Christmas

Torie sighed and sat on the bed beside Cat. “Give me the blasted hat, and then I’ll tell you everything.”

Barnaby tugged irritably at his cravat and then jolted as a large hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing.

“Good God, man, settle your feathers. You’re as jumpy as a harlot attending Sunday service,” Axton—no, Alfred—said, giving his shoulder a fatherly pat.

Which was surprisingly comforting, but then Barnaby’s father had been disinterested in giving fatherly advice or comfort. He was of the opinion his sole contribution to his offspring had ended once he’d impregnated their mother… a tradition Barnaby’s brothers were continuing, from what he’d seen to date.

“I’d offer you a drink, but it’s barely ten a.m., and your aunt will have my hide if you face Bedwin half cut.”

“I don’t think a tot of brandy is going to turn my head,” Barnaby grumbled, though his stomach had tied itself into a knot last night and showed no signs of disentangling itself, so it might just make him cast up his accounts.

“No, shouldn’t think so. Here then, just a nip, steady your nerves.”

Barnaby hesitated and then snatched the silver hip flask Alfred held out to him and took a large swallow. Warmth bloomed in his stomach and his tight muscles relaxed a degree. He handed the flask back before he was tempted to drain it, barely containing an exclamation as the door opened.

He let out a breath of relief as he saw not Bedwin, carving knife in hand, but Louis.

“Barnaby,” Louis said, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that made Barnaby groan with mortification. “Mon ami, what have you been up to?”

“Louis, don’t. I am truly not in the mood. Bedwin is speaking with my aunt. They’ve been in your study for over an hour. I swear he’s making me sweat on purpose.”

“I should too, in his position. I mean, you did compromise his daughter. Really, Barnaby. I had no idea how wicked you are,” Louis tsked, giving a mournful shake of his head. “All this time we have been friends, and you never gave me the slightest clue about your true nature. When I think how you scolded me for the way I seduced my wife, and all the time I have been nurturing a viper. I have been sadly deceived.”

“You can go off people, you know,” Barnaby said hotly, folding his arms.

Axton snorted with amusement as Louis laughed and sat down beside Barnaby, slinging his arm about Barnaby’s shoulders. “There, there. I am only teasing you, and you cannot blame me when, for so long, the shoe was on the other foot.”

Barnaby made a sound of discontent but did not labour the point.

“Stop fretting,” Louis chided him. “Hester adores you. She’ll be telling Bedwin just how fortunate he is in gaining you for a son-in-law when Lady Victoria is already in love with you. I mean, have you seen some of the repulsive fortune hunters who gather about her? It’s not to be borne. If I were Bedwin, I’d be hard pressed not to stand guard over her, pistol in hand.”

“Not helping, Louis,” Barnaby grumbled.

“I am helping, you’re just missing the point. He might not like the circumstances, but he’ll not be displeased with you marrying Victoria, you mark my words.”

Barnaby sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been telling myself the same thing, but—”

“But Bedwin is rather terrifying,” Louis replied with sympathy. “I know. In your position, I would be in the same state. I was in the same state when I had to face Evie’s father, if you recall. I’ve faced some daunting situations in my time, but Mr Knight ranks high in my memory for terror, because I knew I’d behaved badly. But faint heart, etcetera. Keep your head.”

Barnaby nodded, though his stomach still dropped when the door opened again, and Aunt Hester appeared.

“Barnaby, come along. His grace will see you now.”

“We’ll pray for you,” Louis said gravely, though his eyes were lit with amusement.

Barnaby sighed and got to his feet, muttering about unfeeling best friends, and followed his aunt to find the duke.

“Now it’s your turn, Cat. Torie has confessed all, so now you must tell us. What did you do?” Aggie said, her eyes wide as she regarded her friend.

Cat buried her face in her hands and groaned. “You’ll think me an idiot, I know you will.”

“Probably,” Aggie agreed. “But tell us anyway, you mad creature.”

She tugged Cat’s hands away from her face and Torie wondered if Cat realised quite how beautiful she was. She certainly did not seem to care. Unlike many girls of her age, she did not primp or fuss about her dress or her coiffure, and was often far quicker getting ready than anyone else when she stayed with friends. Though, looking like she did, little fuss was required. She could wear sackcloth and not bother to brush her hair and still turn the head of every male in a ten-mile radius. When she came out into society, she would cause a sensation.

“Do you promise not to scold me?” Cat asked Aggie gravely. “Because I swear, I’ve been scolded enough to last the next decade.”

“Oh, Lord, Cat. This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” she said with a pained sigh. “Well, I promise to try. I can do no more.”