Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(24)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Gemma, dear sister! I have wonderful news!” He was fairly bursting with it. “Do you recall the letter you received from Mother not so very long ago?”

Gemma stopped with her fork-full of eggs halfway to her mouth.

“I can see by your expression that you do, so I shall not draw out the suspense. Father’s solicitor arrived early this morning with news of your betrothal.”

The fork slipped from her hands and landed on her plate with a sharp clatter.

“Stunned to silence in your bliss, I see.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“B-betrothal?” Gemma managed to choke out. Her throat had gone suddenly dry, and she wasn’t certain she would be able to draw her next breath.

“Yes, sweet girl! To the Duke of Bridgewater! He’ll be here this afternoon to meet with you and discuss arrangements. A duke! What do you say to that, Gemma?”

“No.” The word came out barely above a whisper.

Nonetheless, Hawke heard it. Wide-eyed, he stared at her for one brief second before slamming his fist firmly on the table, vibrating the glasses and silverware. He stood abruptly to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor behind him. The serving staff jolted, appeared shocked for an instant, and then hastened from the room.

Gemma refused to cow to him, though her entire being trembled with what he might do in his fit of temper.

“I shall not marry him.” Strength she did not know she possessed found its way to her voice, and she stood as well, with an emphatic fist pound of her own.

“I say you shall!”

“I care not what you say. I have made my own choice, and it is Sir Colin Wilde.”

“Sir Col— That man is a rogue! Mother and Father will not hear of it. Nor will I! I will kill him first!” he roared back at her. “You shall return to Brookshire immediately! Nay! I shall deposit you in a nunnery! Sir Colin Wilde, indeed! Why, his very name soils my tongue as I speak it!”

“There is nowhere you can send me that he will not come for me, brother. He has given me his word. And if you refuse to hear reason—”

“Given you his word? Of all the— The word of a debauched rake! What good is that? Rakes give their word when it suits their pur—” His voice broke off and his eyes blazed with fury. He clamped his mouth shut and stared at her in utter horror. “You little whore…” Hawke’s eyes narrowed with the low declaration.

Gemma’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. But before she could respond, Hawke stormed from the room, and a moment later, the front door slammed, signaling his exit from the house. With an exasperated wail, Gemma slumped into her chair, dropped her head to her hands, and wept.

Chapter Fifteen

When a rake is reformed, he is a different man. The woman he loves marks him, and gentlemen, he is also, sadly, in danger of getting shot. For rakes rarely fall without a fight. —The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox

Present Day

"Get up. Get up, you wretched excuse for a man!" Van Burge’s eyes were alive with fury. He threaded his fingers into Colin’s cravat and tugged him roughly up from the floor. “You and I will settle this. Today! Else I shall have you declared a coward. In one hour. Jackson’s. Do not fail.” He spat every word into Colin’s face as he gripped him by the throat.

Van Burge released Colin with an emphatic shove, then he spun on his heel and stormed out, spewing threats and curses all the way.

“Blast.” Colin moaned and swiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

Two hands appeared before him, no doubt a belated offer of futile help from the traitors he called friends.

Colin lifted his eyes to the double image of Ambrose and Anthony, the treacherous twin spawn of Satan. He shook his head and took one of the offered hands.

“Van Burge seems in earnest,” Anthony said. An irritating mocking smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

“In earnest, Anthony? Truly? Whatever gave you that idea?” Ambrose snorted with disdain.

“What will you do?” Anthony ignored his brother and bit straight into the heart of the matter.

“Do? Why, I shall go home, set my affairs in order, and make my way to Jackson’s for the bloodbath.”

“You mean to go through with it, then?” Ambrose asked. Concern was etched in his expression.

“Of course. What alternative do I have?”

“Mercy, man! An ounce of the milk of human kindness?” Anthony proclaimed.

“You’ll murder him, Wilde,” Ambrose said. Reverence laced his words, and Colin thought perhaps the man was almost solemn.

Colin’s lips twitched with a slow, knowing smile, much to the obvious chagrin of his comrades. “Yes. And I shall relish each and every bloody moment of it.”

****

Colin was not sure why he was tempted to sing as he burst through his front door. After all, he could very well be marching to his death. But then again, he had love. Yes, he was a sap. Yes, he was behaving quite madly, but he had Gemma. He only hoped love would keep him from blacking out during the match with her brother.

When the butler took his hat and walking stick, Colin nearly leapt into the old man’s arms. “Godfrey, you old codger! I am going to get my ears boxed!”

True to form, Godfrey didn’t raise so much as an eyebrow at his master’s outburst.

“Sir…” he drew out in a low monotone.

“Godfrey! Did you hear me? I intend to boldly march into the fray. Win or lose is no matter!” He danced a short jig in the hall to emphasize his point.

“Sir…”

“Oh, Godfrey, you old killjoy. Whatever is the matter with you?”

“Sir… There is a man to see you.” Godfrey sounded exhausted as he gestured toward the study door.

“Whatever do you mean? Who is here?”

“Your solicitor.” Godfrey lifted his eyebrows nearly to his hairline — impressive trick. “The man who has been sending the correspondence.”

Colin shook his head in confusion.

“The correspondence you have been ignoring.”

In truth, he’d been ignoring all of it.

“It is a matter of great import. At least, that is what he claims.” Godfrey opened the door to the study for Colin to step through, then closed it behind him, leaving Colin in the room with the family solicitor — a man he hadn’t had the privilege of meeting until that moment.

“May I help you? And please be quick about it; I have another, pressing appointment for which I cannot be late.” Colin gestured toward a chair nearby as he took a seat behind his desk.