The Secret History of the Pink Carnation by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty-One

Richard saw red.

He saw every shade of red imaginable, from crimson to scarlet, but mostly he saw himself driving his fist repeatedly into Marston’s face. It took all of his considerable strength of will not to turn that vision into a reality.

Only Richard’s hands, clenched into fists under the table, hinted at his inward struggle as he leaned back and drawled, “Really?”

“Some men have all the luck,” hiccupped Murat, from somewhere just below the rim of the table.

“It ain’t luck; it’s my handsome face.” Marston hauled his friend up by the collar and deposited him back on the seat of his chair. “Met the girl for five minutes last night, and already she can’t keep her hands off me.”

That wasn’t the way Richard remembered it. Clearly, there was some mistake. Marston must have invented the assignation to impress his friends. Or he was meeting some other woman and had her confused with Amy. There had to be a simple explanation.

Through painfully tight lips, Richard got out, “What did she do? Accost you in your chambers after the party?”

“Nah.” Marston flung a card on the discard pile. “She sent me an urgent message. Like that, do you? An urgent message?” Marston guffawed again. “She wants me badly.”

“Nobody shends me meshages like tha’ anymore,” mourned Murat.

Marston dealt him a brotherly whack on the shoulder that nearly sent him flying over the arm of his chair. “That’s because Caroline scares ’em all away!”

“Caroline,” Murat groaned, and reached for the brandy decanter.

“An urgent message, you say?” queried Richard.

“That’s women for you.” Marston tossed back another snifter of brandy. “Says she must see me urgently, because she had something terribly important to tell me. Said I’d know what it was about after our conversation last night. Ha! As if any fool couldn’t figure out what the girl wants, hey, chaps?”

“What about her brother?” Richard blurted out.

“What about him?”

“Won’t he object to his sister arranging assignations with you?”

“Balcourt?” Marston threw back his head and laughed. Richard hoped the weight of it would cause him to overbalance, perhaps knocking himself out on a handy piece of furniture—there was the nice sharp edge of a card table right there—but Marston’s luck was in and Richard’s was out. Marston’s head snapped back to center without Marston so much as wobbling. “Balcourt? He knows better than to come up stuffy about this.”

That was taking French nonchalance too far, decided Richard. Not to mention that Balcourt was half English and thus should bloody well know better.

“But it’s his sister,” Richard gritted out, pushing to his feet. “Rather a nasty trick to play on a friend, seducing his sister.”

Marston shrugged. “Balcourt owes me. Good night, gentlemen.”

“Do you need a ride?” Richard spoke rapidly as Marston began to move towards the door. “If you’re willing to wait a moment, I’ll send for my coach. I can drop you off on my way home.”

And make good and sure you never make it to your assignation, Richard added grimly to himself. So many things might happen along the way.

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