When Two Hearts Meet (Brightmore #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter 23

"Bugger off, Rhys."

The Earl of Falmouth leaned against the threshold of the study nonchalantly, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, as he considered Cole.

Lounging slackly against a winged-back chair, Cole slogged back the whiskey he was half-way through, revelling in the burn that trickled down his throat and settled in an empty stomach. The heavy drapes were drawn over the high windows and a low fire burned dully in the hearth he was sitting near, not enough to drive out the chill of winter now firmly beginning to settle over the countryside.

"Is this what you intend to do up till the day of your nuptials which could very well be in 90 days?" Rhys drawled.

Cole snorted. "Impossible." He raised the glass to his lips again and found it perplexingly empty. Attempting to heft his body out the chair turned out to be a feat in strength alone, his limbs weighing like giant anvils. Sluggishly, Cole lurched across the study and found the decanter of whiskey he was hastily making his way through. Seeing as his body appeared to be heavier than normal, Cole opted wisely to return to his original position with the aforementioned decanter tucked under his arm protectively.

"Impossible?" Rhys entered then and came forward, joining Cole on the other chair adjacent to him. "That is the soonest you could be married to Oriana, once the banns have been read."

Shaking his head, Cole mumbled, "Special license."

The expression on the earl's face was unreadable. Cole didn't care, he ignored him completely as he stroked the decanter with loving appreciation, beginning to raise the entire thing to his lips. Rhys leant forward and snatched it from his hands. "The chances of you acquiring a special license are minimal, Cole," Rhys explained seriously. "You do not have a title. You will need to write an appeal to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and soon." He grabbed the glass from Cole next, and topped it with a knuckle of amber fluid, handing him back the glass and tucking the decanter on the flagstones next to his chair. Cole snorted at the civilised implication. "If you are fortunate, he would have heard of your reputation among the peerage and the license would be granted, but it is not something you should vouch for."

"We cannot wait 90 days," Cole grumbled, his words slurring slightly. His head tilted back, resting against the back of the chair, and a long sigh expelled from his mouth. "If it is not granted, we will have to elope."

"Write the letter, Cole, and make it convincing." Rhys levelled him with a look of golden-eyed intensity. "You know as well as I that Scotland would not do well for Oriana's reputation, just as well it would do if she were indeed carrying your child when you wed in 90 days."

He closed his eyes, willing the earl away, willing any and all feeling about Oriana Brightmore away. "I shall write the letter," Cole muttered.

Rhys nodded, once. "Make it good. Convincing." He paused, considering. "Allow me to seal it before it is sent. Having a reputable friend in this circumstance could be beneficial to your... situation."

"Alright." Another long swallow of whiskey.

"Danielle tells me that Oriana has not left her chambers since our return," Rhys explained, unwelcomingly. "Clearly, though neither of you have bothered to hide the discord between you, whatever grievance has occurred has upset her as much as it has upset you."

Cole flinched at the tug of his heart, at the sound of her name, at the mere mention of her unhappiness, but he didn't allow it to linger for long. He was duty bound to her now, yes, but that is where his feelings for Oriana would stop. They simply had to. She couldn't abide him and his family, crude as it may be, and at some point the smarting would have to come to an end. "She does not approve of Caroline," Cole rasped, an unprecedented and uncontrolled edge of ache in his voice.