he probably owed his friend an apology, and beneath his breath he groaned at the mess of it all.
‘Actually, if we’re going to come to blows over grievances...’ Hugh approached in a single athletic stride and knocked Alex onto his back with an efficient jab. ‘It was my job to tell Beatrice about Rani. How much does she know about my time in India?’
Alex levered himself up onto an elbow. ‘I haven’t even told my wife about that damned web of deceit!’ he bawled out in his defence.
‘If it wasn’t you or Elise who mentioned a foreign liaison—’
‘It’s bound to have got out,’ Alex interrupted harshly. Your brother knows, after all, and so does Lord Mornington.’ Alex dragged himself upright. ‘You got yourself into the confounded mess so you’ll have to suffer the consequences of being so blasted noble...’
‘Drink?’ Hugh invited acidly. A thumb pointing over his shoulder indicated his study, situated along the corridor. He knew they were both feeling foolish for having swung first and asked questions second.
Hugh knew he was wrong for wanting Beatrice in his bed, but if necessary he’d fight his best friend to have her—because just a single memory of her silky lips slipping beneath his, and her moaning response to his ardour, was enough to send tormenting heat to his loins.
‘Promise me you’ll stay away from my sister-in-law and I’ll take a drink with you.’ Alex feared his terms and his olive branch would be rejected.
‘I can’t do that.’ Hugh turned away from his best friend, calling over his shoulder to a footman, who’d remained stoically seated in a shadowy alcove during the fracas, ‘The viscount’s leaving; show him out.’
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