Free Trials of Artemis by Sue London Page A

sorting papers and deciding what to take with him and what to leave
with his man of business in town. A new steward in London was what he needed.
The last man had made more mess than anything, which was why Gideon now
preferred to do it himself, but he had to admit that having one would be far
preferable to the state of his papers at this juncture. A steward,and perhaps a clerk for his Parliamentary papers.
Those were at least half of what was on his desk, the rest being reports from
his various properties and financial holdings. It was tempting to just leave it
all here and see what if anything was truly necessary once he reached Kent. The
footsteps came closer.
    "His
grace," Dibbs announced.
    Quince
strolled in, looking freshly turned out as always, and came up to place a
bottle of brandy on the middle of the papers on Gideon's desk. "I've been
saving this for a special occasion, Giddy. As your best man I take it as my
solemn duty to get you absolutely smashed tonight so that even if you have cold
feet you won't have the ability to find the door and try to run."
    Gideon
raised one eyebrow.
    "Don't
give me that look. I've seen you run from far less scary things than
marriage."
    Gideon
continued sorting papers around the brandy bottle. "Marriage doesn't scare
me, Quince."
    The
duke dropped into the chair angled in front of Gideon's desk. "You're
right, you don't sound scared. You sound dead inside."
    "No
need for the dramatic. We're getting married in the morning. It's not the end
of the world."
    "It's
the end of life as you know it. No more running around with loose women,
staying out late in dens of drunken debauchery. Because doing those things
would make you... what is the word I'm looking for?"
    "Don't
do this, Quince. This isn't about politics."
    "Oh
yes, that's right, that would make you a hypocrite. And no, this isn't about
politics at all. Certainly Miss Walters is delighted to know that she is
marrying a pillar of the community, a husband who will never stray nor engage
in unseemly behavior."
    "That's
enough, Quince."
    "I
don't see why you're getting upset, Giddy. I'm complimenting you on your value
system. Or at least how that value system will play out for that charming girl
you're marrying tomorrow."
    Gideon
narrowed his eyes at his friend. It was easy to write off Quincy Telford as a
dandy and a snob if you didn't know better. But Gideon did know better and he
could see the truth in Quince's eyes. Jacqueline had somehow enlisted another
defender that would likely call him to account if he so much as offended her
delicate sensibilities. Fabulous. Perhaps he would have that drink after all.
He rose to retrieve two glasses from the sideboard and poured generous servings
for each of them.
    "To
your health and happiness," Quince toasted him.
    "It's
too bad this turned out like it has," Gideon said. "Because I thought
you'd like to marry her."
    The
duke had unfortunately been mid-swallow as Gideon said that, the consequence of
which was brandy sprayed on both the desk and Gideon himself, followed up by
two minutes of coughing. "Good Lord, man,” the duke finally managed, his
voice rough, “what made you think that?"
    "I
thought you would be a good match and you seem to like her."
    "Of
course I like her. She's likeable." That comment received a snort from
Gideon but Quince continued. "I especially like her as a wife for you.
Trust me, I do not fancy her as a wife for myself."
    Gideon
looked down into his glass. "Neither do I, but," he shrugged,
"that's how it's working out."
    Quince
retrieved the bottle. "We obviously need more brandy."
    "Indeed."

 
    The
carriage had arrived shortly after dawn to load Jack's trunks. It seemed that
the earl's trunks were already stowed onboard as they would be leaving
immediately for the countryside. Jack declined the offer to use the rather
plush conveyance to the church, opting instead to ride with her parents and
sister in their more modest carriage. It would be their last