Joshua raised his eyebrows.
'It would be strange if you were not,' Bewcastle said. 'All during your growing years you were one life removed from the heirdom to a marquess's title and property and fortune-a frustration, no doubt, to a penniless boy. And then that one life was extinguished under somewhat mysterious circumstances.'
Good God! Joshua turned cold inside. At least it was now clear who had informed Bewcastle of the betrothal and why he had lost no time in coming to Bath.
'Under tragic circumstances,' Joshua said. 'Are you insinuating that you believe I had a hand in my cousin's death?'
'I insinuate nothing,' his grace said, raising haughty eyebrows. 'Very probably they were merely fortunate circumstances for you. You celebrated your new expectations by traveling extensively and, ah, sowing some wild oats, I believe?'
'I spent five years in France,' Joshua said somewhat testily, 'doing undercover spy work for the British government. I resent this interrogation, Bewcastle.'
'Do you?' The duke still spoke softly. He was not to be drawn into any angry exchange, it seemed. 'But you wish to marry my sister, Hallmere. I will interrogate any man who aspires to her hand, even if he has forced my hand by announcing his betrothal before speaking with me. You refused to marry the lowly gentlewoman you impregnated at Penhallow before you left there?'
Joshua pursed his lips. It would be interesting to read the letter his aunt had written the Duke of Bewcastle. But he would not allow her malice to put him on the defensive before a stranger.
'She never even asked me to marry her,' he said, grinning. 'But I have supported her and the child for longer than five years.'
Bewcastle showed no sign of sharing his amusement. He picked up his glass again and sipped from it. 'Lady Freyja Bedwyn is the daughter of a duke,' he said. 'She is also an extremely wealthy woman, as I daresay you know.'
'I suppose I would have guessed it,' Joshua said, 'if I had given the matter any thought.'
'She is, in fact,' the duke said, 'a quite brilliant match for you.'
'And since we are speaking of rank and fortune,' Joshua said, grinning again, 'I am something of a brilliant match for her too. It is what Bath society has been saying since the announcement was made, anyway.'
The duke regarded him with cold hauteur. Too late, it struck Joshua that perhaps he should simply have told Bewcastle the truth. This mock betrothal was going to be over within the next week, after all. Why leave it to Lady Freyja to have to explain to her family?
'You are not at all sure you approve of me,' he said. 'I can hardly blame you. I proposed marriage to your sister without first consulting you as head of her family, and then I compounded that error by having the betrothal publicly announced during an assembly and by neglecting either to write to you or to call upon you immediately after. My aunt, I perceive, has performed that task for me. I can only say now that I have the deepest regard for your sister and will accept her decision if she should see fit to break off our engagement after listening to your advice.'
There-perhaps that would give them a decent way out of their predicament when the time came. This awkward visit of her brother to Bath might turn out for the best after all.
The ducal eyebrows had risen.
'Extraordinary!' Bewcastle said softly. 'You would not fight for the woman you love, Hallmere?'
'I certainly would not force any woman into a marriage against her will,' Joshua said.
The duke set his empty glass down on the table beside him and Joshua took the gesture as a sign that the interview was at an end. He got to his feet.
'I will be escorting Lady Freyja to a concert at the Upper Rooms tonight,' he said. 'I will see you there?'
The duke inclined his head.
'I will bid you a good afternoon, then,' Joshua said, and left the room.
He blew out air from his puffed cheeks as he stepped out of the Royal York Hotel. The Duke of Bewcastle was not going to grow any fonder of him when he disappeared from Lady Freyja's life in a few days' time. That would not matter one iota to him, of course, but it might matter a great deal to her, whether she then divulged the full truth or not.
Devil take it! Life was getting just too complicated for comfort.
But he grinned suddenly. It would be interesting indeed to be an invisible witness to the interview between Bewcastle and Lady Freyja that must be pending.
It was one thing, Freyja thought, to have become involved in a betrothal in the eyes of Bath society; it was quite another suddenly to have one pair of those eyes belonging to Wulfric. Such inscrutable eyes too. They always had been. They had always been his single greatest asset when dealing with underlings, including his brothers and sisters.
His other great asset was his patience-if that was the right word. Wulfric was never in a rush. He could bide his time forever while his quarry fidgeted and dithered and waited for him to pounce.
All through tea at Lady Holt-Barron's he had made no further mention of the betrothal but had conversed politely about his journey and the state of the roads and about Bath and the weather and a dozen other topics. Then he had gone off walking back down into the city with the marquess, elegant and urbane, his eyes like two chips off a glacier.
He sat beside Freyja during the orchestral concert in the Upper Rooms that evening, Lady Holt-Barron on his other side, the marquess on Freyja's other side. They did nothing but listen to the music and talk about the music, though Wulfric was mobbed during the interval by people eager to make their curtsy or their bow to the Duke of Bewcastle. There was hardly a moment during which to snatch a private word with the marquess.
