“Doesn’t matter the woman.” His head was a trifle muffled. At least Nia made him feel needed, and she was pleasant to be around. Unlike the chit, what was her name? Hell if he could remember that right now. Never let him even touch a breast. And he was really good at pleasuring a woman’s breasts…
“It does.” There was a note of alarm in Lord Randolph’s voice. “Betrothal contracts were signed between you and the duke.”
He waved a hand, and his fingers looked exceedingly odd. Was a man supposed to have eight? “Duke will understand. What’s the difference of a few hours? Already dressed too.” Percival managed a grin. “Saves time. Only undress once.”
“Good God, he’s nearly shot.” Lord Saintfort appeared on his other side. “Don’t do this, Laughton. You’ll destroy your reputation and hers. Lord Bradford will bury you. Everyone in London knows of his temper and thirst for revenge against men who wrong him.”
Poppycock! “He won’t be mad. I’m marrying his daughter. Aren’t you listening?” His words were a bit slurred, but he could snap out of it.
“You’re not, though.” Lord Randolph gripped his shoulder tighter. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“Bah!” I’m tired of thinking. It makes my head hurt too much. A flash of annoyance went through his chest. He shook off his friend’s hold and strode from the room, only stumbling twice. “Stanton!” The call for his butler sounded overly loud in the quiet of the house. “Stanton, damn it, where are you?”
When the man finally appeared, half dressed for slumber in his long night shirt but with breeches, Percy narrowed his eyes. “What is amiss, my lord?”
What was he doing before this moment? Everything was fuzzy in his mind. “Ah. Send someone for a clergyman.”
The older man frowned. “It’s the middle of the night, Your Lordship. Why do you need him?”
“Getting married. Right now.” When Percy shook his head, the corridor spun at an alarming rate. “Care not, Stanton. Want him ‘ere in half an hour. Understand? Things to do.”
Both Lords Randolph and Saintfort joined him in the corridor. It was Randolph who once more put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’re completely foxed, Laughton. I can’t in good conscience let you do this.”
Percy blew out a breath. “Then show yourself out. I’ll wed if I wish when I wish.” His friends could go to the devil for all he cared.
Saintfort shot a frantic glance at Randolph. “We can’t let him do this.”
“How the devil are we to stop him then?”
Buggars, the both of ‘em. Why wait until later in the morning when he could wed the chit now and not worry about it? Bed her in the dark so he wouldn’t have to see her face. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could find some place to crash and remember his wife. Without another glance at them, he tackled the grand staircase. Had the treads always been so tricky, wavering in and out like that?
Once upstairs and tripping down the corridor to his rooms, he burst inside. His gaze landed on Lavinia where she lounged in a chair, reading a book near an oil lamp. “Come, Nia,” he crooned and stumbled over the floor toward her location. Interesting how the rug undulated like that. Must be the pattern. “Come downstairs. I’m marrying tonight.”
Her dark pink lips curved downward in a frown. A diamond-encrusted comb in her dark brown hair sparkled in the upswept tresses. Slowly, she stood and set her book aside. Navy taffeta rustled. The tiny spangles and beads on the skirt glittered. He remembered wanting to take the gown off when they were at the opera. “The duke agreed to this insane plan?” She peered past him to his friends as they came into the sitting room. “Are you two behind this?”
Lord Randolph cleared his throat. “Laughton’s in his cups. We can’t dissuade him.”
“Don’t need anyone’s permission.” Percy rolled his eyes. He met her dark gaze. Brown like chocolate. “You’re already here.”
“Oh, Percival.” She huffed. “I’m not Lady Eleanor.”
“Nonsense.” It took all his concentration to remain upright let alone carry on this absurd conversation. “Can see you are. Been waiting on me, already dressed to wed.”
She shot a glance at Lord Randolph, who shrugged. Then the woman crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Couldn’t wait to taste those charms again. “Yes, I’m dressed but not to wed. We attended the opera this evening, remember?”
“Not really.” His memory was much like a deep hole full of mud just now. “That dress is a little overblown. Too much decoll…decolla…” What the devil was that fancy French word? When it wouldn’t come to him, he finally said, “too many bosoms on display. Don’t want others looking at you.”
Nia shook her head. “You’re too drunk to do anything tonight.”
“Am not.” He tapped his temple. One of his cuffs was missing. Where had it gotten off to? “Just tipsy enough to think clearly.”
“Hardly.” She glanced at the two men standing mutely in the sitting room. “What now? He’s too heavy for me to manipulate.”
Lord Randolph shrugged. “He’s apparently made up his mind.” There was a certain gleam in his friend’s eye he didn’t trust. Probably thinking about taking his mistress again.
She huffed. “I am not his bride.”
“Yes, you are. Just forgot.” Percy looked about the small apartment. “You need a drink. So do I.” He staggered over to the side of the room and grabbed a crystal decanter from a rolling cart. “Can be in our cups together. Fitting beginning, yes?”