When Percival turned to see what she had over his shoulder, cold foreboding rocketed down his spine. “Well, fuck,” he said beneath his breath.
The Duke of Bradford made his way slowly toward them, nearly prowling the marble as if he were a jungle cat and Percival was the chosen prey. A smile of victory spread over the duke’s face, which made the knots of worry in his gut pull ever tighter.
“Ah, look who has decided to grace us with his presence this evening,” the duke said in a conversational tone as if he wasn’t ready to dole out serious harm. “If it isn’t Laughton and his whore, masquerading as a countess.”
A hot wave of hanger rose in Percival’s chest. “That is outside of enough, Bradford. Lavinia is my wife, and I will ask that you treat her with the respect she deserves.”
“Of course I should, and perhaps with the same consideration you gave my daughter, whom you threw over on the eve of her wedding?”
People made way for him on the dance floor as he advanced. All eyes were glued to them. Across the room, Lords Randolph and Saintfort looked on with mixed expressions of dread and dismay. Saintfort whispered into his fiancée’s ear and gave her a gentle shove toward the door.
Lavinia laid a hand upon Percival’s arm. “Ignore him. Ignore everyone. He wants you to react.”
“How can I not? He’s insulted you,” he whispered back.
“Is it an insult, Laughton, if everyone here knows exactly what your wife used to be? How she is probably still that same woman and would be if given half the chance?” The duke’s insidious chuckle set Percival’s teeth on edge. “To say nothing of you. Still a drunk? No doubt as arrogant as you were the day you signed that contract for my daughter’s hand, thinking you’re beyond the rules or consequences?” He tapped an index finger upon the ivory head of his walking stick. “Well, I am here tonight to tell you that no one makes a fool of me or my family without some repercussions.”
As unobtrusively as possible, Percival stepped in front of Lavinia. “You may have a go at me all you want, Bradford, but leave my wife out of it.”
“Oh, that’s not the way this will work.”
Lord Saintfort strode across the floor at that moment. “I don’t believe you have an invitation, Your Grace, but I’ll be happy to accept felicitations on my future happiness,” he said in an undisguised attempt to diffuse the tension.
“Away with you, pup.” The duke waved a hand. “I care not for any aspect of your life, but I knew Laughton would attend due your friendship.” The duke trained his narrowed gaze on Percival. “It would seem our earl is having difficulties coping with the moment. Someone bring a bottle of brandy.”
Bloody, bloody hell.
Straightaway, another peer—possibly one of the duke’s contemporaries—shoved a bottle into Percival’s hand. The man sneered. “Perhaps we can toast to your wife’s success.”
“Meaning?” His fingers crept up the neck of the bottle and removed the cork.
“Meaning that I have it on good authority your wife has come to an… understanding with Lord Aldress.” The duke’s smile turned into something vile, dark, and slick as spilled ink. “Isn’t that right, Countess?”
“That’s not it at all, Your Grace.” But when Percival turned to look at her, a dark blush had stained her cheeks.
Pain radiated through his chest at such damning evidence. “You betrayed our wedding vows already?” The words were pulled out of him as his heart squeezed tight.
“No!” She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
“Did you talk to him in private?”
“Yes, but, it’s not what you think.”
“His wife wasn’t there?”
“No, but—”
“You played me for a fool.” He clenched his fingers around the bottle in his hand. The floor seemed to shift beneath his feet, and suddenly he didn’t know which way was up any longer. “Then tell me.”
“I can’t.” Her face blanched. “It is a private matter, and one I swore to keep secret.”
“Yet you won’t tell me what you spoke to Lord Aldress about.” How was this happening? He could have sworn Lavinia returned his regard. Had she merely been playing him as a fool this whole time, to have his reach and respectability of his name yet give another man her body?
“Don’t do this.” The plea in her voice wormed its way into his consciousness, but he hardened his heart against her. There was apparently no loyalty between them. After all, hadn’t she allowed him to steal her from her former lover?
“Don’t do what? Accuse you of clinging to your old ways when you swore me your fidelity? The promise I’ve adhered to when you haven’t?” Not able to stand the acute pain in his heart, he brought the brandy bottle to his lips and took a few large swallows. The burn of the liquor in his throat sent twists of both loathing and relief down his spine.
God, he hoped he got so foxed he couldn’t stand. Perhaps then he wouldn’t feel the jagged pain that sawed through his heart. No wonder she’d never declared her love for him!