Free Shana Galen by Prideand Petticoats

proof of my devotion was required before I could bed her, and I once went two whole weeks without a suitably tied cravat because that dashed valet of mine got it in his head to go on strike. I have patience, madam!”
    “I see. Well, cravats and opera singers aside, sir, you have as much to gain from this venture as those. If you could just begin again—”
    “Begin again?” He stared at her as though she’d grown two noses. “Even if I were so inclined, I haven’t the time. I have an appointment with Josephine in a quarter hour, and I will be late as it is.”
    “Josephine?” Charlotte gaped as indignation coiled in her belly, making her cold all the way to her toes. “Your mistress !”
    “Good God.” He jerked at the sleeves of his tailcoat again. “You sound like a wife already.”
    “And can you blame me? You’re going to see your mistress? Dressed like that? And on our wedding day?” She jumped up and stomped over to him.
    “What’s wrong with my attire?” He angled so that he could see himself in the large cheval mirror. “These boots too drab? I should have Wilkins—”
    “Oh, never mind. Your clothing is as puffed up and narrow as you!” She flicked his cravat and stiff collar for emphasis. “Go to your mistress, and I don’t care if you ever come back!” She turned, crossed the room in three strides, opened the door, and slammed it with all the force she could muster. A maid dusting one of the portraits in the long corridor jumped, and a footman dropped thecandle he was using to light one of the wall sconces.
    Behind her, Dewhurst’s door swung open again, and he barked, “You dare slam my door in my face? You ungrateful little wretch.”
    “You arrogant, preening flamingo!” she shot back. “I have nothing to say to you.” She gripped the edge of the door, prepared to slam it again, but he put his hand over hers, stopping her.
    “But I have something to say to you, my upstart colonist. And when I am ready to say it, you will listen.” This time he shut the door so hard that the house rattled.

Chapter 5
    F reddie strolled into Brooks’s in full dandy mode—despite his former mistress’s attempts to turn into a human catapult. He rubbed his cheek. Josephine had thrown a variety of objects, and her heavy hairbrush had struck home. Dashed woman was dicked in the nob. Perhaps this charade with the colonist would not be all bad. When a woman like Josephine became too attached, it was time to end the affair. Best to send her back to Alvanley. Perhaps having her back would smooth the baron’s ruffled feathers.
    Alvanley’s potential reunion with Josephine was the topic of the evening during dinner at Brooks’s. Romeo Coates wagered Alvanley’s good humor would return in three weeks, Lord Yarmouth wagered seven, and Golden BallHughes and George Hanger both put money on a fortnight. Freddie wagered a week; namely because when he had won Alvanley’s favorite hunter the year before, Alvanley had been in high dudgeon for ten days, and Freddie couldn’t imagine being more upset over a woman than a horse. Especially now that, after only three months, Josephine would be amenable to taking her former lover back.
    Freddie had just begun perusing the wedding notices and wondering how he should word his—once-elegant dandy married to uncouth insignificant colonist?—when Alex Scarston, the Earl of Selbourne, thrust himself into the chair next to Freddie. Without so much as a word, Alex grabbed the gin and poured himself a large glass. Freddie frowned at the usurpation of the gin and then grimaced even more harshly when he got a better look at his friend. Alex’s hair was in wild disarray, as though he’d been running his hands through it, his cravat hung sloppily down his linen shirt, and his boots were scuffed and lacking polish.
    “Has Hodges deserted you, old boy?” Freddie asked, referring to Alex’s valet.
    “Unfortunately not.”
    Freddie opened his mouth to comment on the state