Archie pretended to study the automobile, as well. “It is a fine motor,” he said. “About how much would one of these cost, Reggie?”
“Somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve hundred pounds, I’d say.”
Even Linley was shocked to hear that.
“Twelve hundred,” Archie said with a whistle. “One wonders about a man who would waste that much on a motorcar…”
Patrick knew where this was headed, and he certainly wasn’t going to stick around and let them make a fool out of him. He turned to Linley. “I think I had better go.”
But Archie stood with his arms crossed, blocking the driver’s door.
Refusing to be bullied, Patrick straightened his shoulders and stood so close to the man that their hat brims touched. Neither moved for what seemed like a very long time.
Neither blinked and no one spoke. Linley thought her chest would cave in from the tension, and she prayed the two men would not come to blows right there in Bedford Square.
Patrick wished Archie would swing on him. He’d been looking for an opportunity to beat the man’s face in, but his sense of decorum and damned annoying gentleman’s code of honor wouldn’t let him pick a fight with a lesser man.
So, in the meantime, he would have to take the high road.
“Excuse me,” Patrick said, and, finally, Archie stepped aside.
But not before turning around and knocking the hat off the back of Patrick’s head.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I cannot believe you!” Linley cried as she watched Patrick’s motorcar turn out of Bedford Square. “Why are you all acting so childish?”
“Someone needs to show that chap he can’t pull any of his usual tricks with you,” Archie explained. “At least not while I am around!”
Linley looked at each of them. “What are you talking about?”
Reginald cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I asked my brother about him. Harry said he’s bad news. Turns out they were at Eton together. Of course, he was just Lord Patrick Wolford back then.”
“You would judge a man on his behavior when he was barely more than a child?”
“That’s not all,” Reginald said. “I don’t suppose he told you about Lady Wolstanton?”
Linley shook her head. “Who is that?”
“Ask him. See what he tells you.”
“Oh, Reginald,” she said, waving him off. “I refuse to listen to this nonsense.”
Schoville, who until then had remained silent, spoke up. “If you won’t listen to us, then I hope you will listen to your father.” He turned toward Sir Bedford. “Please tell her not to see that man again.”
Linley’s father sighed. “While you all make convincing arguments against him, and while I must admit I don’t particularly like the fellow, I leave the decision completely up to Linley. It is, after all, her life.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said. “Now, if you will all please excuse me, I have to write a letter apologizing for your behavior to my friend Lord Kyre.”
After she went inside, Archie, Reginald, and Schoville all turned on Linley’s father.
“Bedford, you can’t be serious!” Archie cried. “That man is a bounder!”
“Despite what you say, Berenice finds him to be suitable company for Linley.”
Reginald threw his hands in the air. “That woman would let Linley marry Satan if he had a good enough title!”
Sir Bedford Talbot-Martin could not help but laugh. “I believe you are jealous.”
“Jealous?” Reginald scoffed. “I may not be a marquess, but my father is the Earl of Bredgebury! And compared to us Bournes, the Wolfords are nouveau riche!”
He spat that last bit out with enough contempt Linley’s father didn’t dare to continue the argument. “I stand by my decision, Reginald. I am sorry.”
***
Patrick just finished his bath when there was a knock at the door.
“There is a letter for you, my lord,” his valet said.
“Just lay it on the bed. I’ll read it later.”
The man cleared his throat. “It’s from Miss Talbot-Martin, sir.”
“Oh!” Patrick reached for a nearby towel and wrapped it around his waist. Padding across the cold tile floor, he opened the bathroom door. “I’ll take that now.”
“I rather thought you might,” his valet said, handing over the envelope.
Patrick read the letter, noting what pretty handwriting Linley had. And what perfect spelling. Unlike Georgiana, she must have actually paid attention to her tutors. In fact, it put his own Eton scrawl to shame.
“A reply?” his valet asked.
“What?”
“A reply. To the letter.”
“See if she will have dinner with me. Eight o’clock.”
The man set off down the dark, wood-paneled corridor to relay the message. Left alone in his room, Patrick walked to the far end and sank down onto the narrow bed. Still clad in only a towel, he flopped backward against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.