them. I’m not saying I am an angel, but I’m not a rutting pig either.”
“I am also aware of that,” Lord Dobbins agreed.
“You are?” Andres sat back against the seat.
“I am. I also know that you did sleep with my wife. Rogered her nicely. At least, that is what she’s told me,” Lord Dobbins said. “And the rest of the world.”
In all the times Andres had confronted offended husbands, he’d never met one so calm. And he started to suspect that all wasn’t what it seemed, that he might have found himself in something he’d rather not be involved with.
Lord Dobbins watched him with a look of benign amusement. “Do you understand?”
“I don’t know if I wish to,” Andres replied, and Lord Dobbins laughed.
“Well said. Too many people ask questions they shouldn’t,” his lordship replied. “However,” he continued, his tone changing to one of mild concern,
“you have created a problem for me. You see, I like my arrangement with my wife. We live separate lives, but she is mine. She’s dallied with many men.
However, she has some nonsense in her head that she might leave me … for you.”
“I have not asked her to do any such thing.”
“Of course you haven’t. Carla is becoming a trial to you. She’s becoming a trial to me as well. Her ability to be discreet appears to have been misplaced in matters involving you. These tantrums and hysterics are embarrassing.
People are asking questions quite openly, and I am not comfortable with the situation.”
“I have not encouraged your wife in these behaviors,” Andres said, uncertain what the man wanted. He felt some comfort in knowing the bruisers sent to fetch him were not with them in the coach—or he didn’t think they were.
They could be with the driver for all he knew.
He wished he’d had his walking stick, the one that hid a sword. He might need it.
“Relax,” Lord Dobbins said. “I didn’t search you out to hurt you.”
Andres doubted his words. “Then what do you want?”
“I want you to leave London.”
“I would rather be called out,” Andres said without hesitation.
“Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen, Barón,” Lord Dobbins said. “I understand how you feel. Truly I do. And I’m not surprised. Before this meeting between us, I endeavored to learn everything I could about you. It was quite a task. You have an elusive past.”
“I’ve lived an adventurous life.”
“Yes, and you’ve made the most with what you’ve had. For example,” Lord Dobbins began, motioning with one dark gloved hand. He wore a huge golden ring on his index finger, right over the glove—just as Carla wore hers.
The metal gleamed in the coach light. “You aren’t truly a baron.” He smiled as he said this.
“My father was the barón de Vasconia.” Andres stuck with the truth.
“He was,” Lord Dobbins agreed. “But your sister kindly pointed out to my man that you are the illegitimate son, the one who couldn’t, or shouldn’t, inherit.”
“That was my sister’s impression. She was jealous our father treated me well.
I received the education of a nobleman’s son,” Andres said, a hardness forming in his chest.
“But you filled the role of a groom in his stables.”
“Fathers give their sons many tasks.”
“But it must have been hard watching your brother receive so much.”
Andres had not been close to his half brother. Emilio had considered him inferior and had been more ruthless in his opinions than Delia. “Is that not the way of brothers?” He kept his tone light.
“He died, didn’t he? How did it go?”
“He fought at Trafalgar, on the other side,” Andres said, knowing he was being toyed with—and almost hating the man for it.
“Yes, that was it,” Lord Dobbins said, as if suddenly remembering what he’d known all along. “Some would think him an enemy and perhaps consider you with suspicion if this was known. What is the saying, the chestnut never falls far from the
“I am also aware of that,” Lord Dobbins agreed.
“You are?” Andres sat back against the seat.
“I am. I also know that you did sleep with my wife. Rogered her nicely. At least, that is what she’s told me,” Lord Dobbins said. “And the rest of the world.”
In all the times Andres had confronted offended husbands, he’d never met one so calm. And he started to suspect that all wasn’t what it seemed, that he might have found himself in something he’d rather not be involved with.
Lord Dobbins watched him with a look of benign amusement. “Do you understand?”
“I don’t know if I wish to,” Andres replied, and Lord Dobbins laughed.
“Well said. Too many people ask questions they shouldn’t,” his lordship replied. “However,” he continued, his tone changing to one of mild concern,
“you have created a problem for me. You see, I like my arrangement with my wife. We live separate lives, but she is mine. She’s dallied with many men.
However, she has some nonsense in her head that she might leave me … for you.”
“I have not asked her to do any such thing.”
“Of course you haven’t. Carla is becoming a trial to you. She’s becoming a trial to me as well. Her ability to be discreet appears to have been misplaced in matters involving you. These tantrums and hysterics are embarrassing.
People are asking questions quite openly, and I am not comfortable with the situation.”
“I have not encouraged your wife in these behaviors,” Andres said, uncertain what the man wanted. He felt some comfort in knowing the bruisers sent to fetch him were not with them in the coach—or he didn’t think they were.
They could be with the driver for all he knew.
He wished he’d had his walking stick, the one that hid a sword. He might need it.
“Relax,” Lord Dobbins said. “I didn’t search you out to hurt you.”
Andres doubted his words. “Then what do you want?”
“I want you to leave London.”
“I would rather be called out,” Andres said without hesitation.
“Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen, Barón,” Lord Dobbins said. “I understand how you feel. Truly I do. And I’m not surprised. Before this meeting between us, I endeavored to learn everything I could about you. It was quite a task. You have an elusive past.”
“I’ve lived an adventurous life.”
“Yes, and you’ve made the most with what you’ve had. For example,” Lord Dobbins began, motioning with one dark gloved hand. He wore a huge golden ring on his index finger, right over the glove—just as Carla wore hers.
The metal gleamed in the coach light. “You aren’t truly a baron.” He smiled as he said this.
“My father was the barón de Vasconia.” Andres stuck with the truth.
“He was,” Lord Dobbins agreed. “But your sister kindly pointed out to my man that you are the illegitimate son, the one who couldn’t, or shouldn’t, inherit.”
“That was my sister’s impression. She was jealous our father treated me well.
I received the education of a nobleman’s son,” Andres said, a hardness forming in his chest.
“But you filled the role of a groom in his stables.”
“Fathers give their sons many tasks.”
“But it must have been hard watching your brother receive so much.”
Andres had not been close to his half brother. Emilio had considered him inferior and had been more ruthless in his opinions than Delia. “Is that not the way of brothers?” He kept his tone light.
“He died, didn’t he? How did it go?”
“He fought at Trafalgar, on the other side,” Andres said, knowing he was being toyed with—and almost hating the man for it.
“Yes, that was it,” Lord Dobbins said, as if suddenly remembering what he’d known all along. “Some would think him an enemy and perhaps consider you with suspicion if this was known. What is the saying, the chestnut never falls far from the
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