Her hand slipped from his with obvious reluctance. “Until we’re married,” she said.
“Until then.” He cupped her face in his hands. “All will be well.” He kissed her again and swung up into the saddle, choosing an indirect approach to Greyburn. Any of the loups-garous he encountered would know what he’d been doing—and with whom. The scent was unmistakable. Marriage would be the formal seal placed on their mating.
As he neared the house the early evening wind shifted, carrying with it another scent. Telford. He met the valet at the edge of the garden and dismounted.
“My lord,” Telford said, a little breathlessly. “I have a telegram for you from London, and a note from the Honorable Quentin Forster.”
Braden composed his expression into the stern, unbending visage of the Lord of Greyburn and leader of the Convocation. “Read them, Telford.”
“The telegraph is from London. If I may paraphrase… Lord Leebrook sends the message that the Honorable Matthew Forster has appeared at Leebrook House. He has apparently—ah—challenged Lord Leebrook to a duel. With swords.”
Braden resisted the urge to snatch the telegram from Telford’s hand. “Uncle Matthew? In London?”
“It appears so, my lord.”
Braden had believed, when he took Cassidy to Matthew’s cottage, that the old eccentric had gone off to live in the hills as he so often did. But Matthew hadn’t truly been away from Greyburn lands. He was half-mad, if harmless, running about dressed as a seventeenth-century Reiver. Braden would not have believed that he’d use his antique sword in earnest. Duels were a thing of the past.
Matthew lived in the past.
“Why would he challenge Leebrook? He’s hardly met the man.”
“I fear the reason may not be far to seek, my lord. I have observed that Mr. Forster—in his antique guise—has been keeping company with Mrs. Smith on occasion. Or was, before the incident of two days ago.”
“Keeping company?”
“I believe it was quite proper, my lord. Mr. Forster was in the drawing room when Lord Leebrook and Mrs. Smith were… reintroduced. He followed Mrs. Smith from the room. It seems possible that he wished to defend her honor.”
A whore’s honor. “You see everything, Telford.”
“Had I thought trouble would come of this, my lord, I would have spoken earlier, but I did not wish to bother you. Lord Leebrook asks that you collect the Honorable Matthew Forster as soon as possible, or he shall feel the need to make other arrangements.”
Braden bared his teeth. “Read Quentin’s note.”
“The Honorable Quentin Forster says—” He paused, his embarrassment almost tangible. ” ‘My dear elder brother, I trust that by now you have come to your senses, and Cassidy is under your protection. Knowing you as I do, I felt you would be sure to want this.’ ” Paper rustled. “My Lord, Mr. Forster has enclosed what appears to be a marriage license made out in your name—and Miss Holt’s.”
An astonished laugh caught in Braden’s throat. Of course. He didn’t even wonder how Quentin had managed the license, or how he’d orchestrated events so smoothly and with such certainty of results. It had all been a game to him; his talent for games was extraordinary.
Braden’s immediate reaction was to thrash his younger brother within an inch of his life.
But thrashing would have to wait. He had an errand for Quentin in London.
“Thank you, Telford,” he said. “Kindly inform me when my brother returns. You may assure him that I won’t demand his head—yet.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“Oh, and Telford… wish me luck. I am going to be married.”
The little country church was nearly deserted. Dim morning sunlight tinted the stained-glass windows, and the only witnesses to the ceremony were the curate, the parish clerk, and Telford, who stood slightly behind Braden.
Cassidy had no attendants. Last night Braden had returned to the cottage driving a small carriage laden with food, one of Cassidy’s simplest dresses along with a coat and a change of shoes and stockings, and additional blankets. In his pocket was a special marriage license, and he explained that they would be married first thing in the morning. They had shared a meal of bread, cheese, and fruit, and afterward Braden spread the blankets on the floor beside Matthew’s narrow bed. He remained there while Cassidy slept restlessly in the cot, wishing Braden would join her.