Sweet Love of Mine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

“Have you designs on Emily?” the duke of Rochester demanded of the future duke of Hawthorne as they ambled casually along the gentle decline that broke at the water’s edge of a large lake, magnificently sprawled along Hawthorne estate.

Gabriel Sinclair glanced at him, his eyes wide with shock at the abrupt interrogation. “Are you going to call me out if I do?”

“Yes.”

His mouth cracked into an inexplicable roguish grin that Sebastian wanted to punch from his face. “Granted, she is your ward, but surely you can’t deny she’d make an exceptional catch marrying me?” he drawled indolently.

“Sinclair, I am sorely tempted to drown you in that pond of yours.”

Gabriel’s expression did not waver. He pointedly glanced at the group of women strolling amiably a few feet ahead of them, specifically at the shocking expanse of bright red hair that belonged to Emily. “Rather dashing little morsel, isn’t she?”

“Stay away from her.”

Gabriel snorted. “I haven’t intentions to court her,” he admitted wryly.

“Then why did you invite her?”

“I did not. Henry did. Speaking of which, what explains your presence? Have you designs on Victoria?”

At the darkening of Gabriel’s eyes, Sebastian had to grin. “If I said I did, would you call me out?”

“Very funny.” Gabriel was not smiling.

“I thought so.”

“Don’t be an ass, Rochester. What’s the meaning behind your unprecedented arrival? Late, too. It bodes ominous for you indeed if you intend to take Victoria as wife. The woman wants to hightail off to Africa the moment we aren’t looking.”

“A wife that doesn’t want to cling to her husband?” Sebastian said drolly. “Good God, why didn’t someone marry her sooner? What a boon.”

“Your humour is not appreciated.”

Unrepentantly, Sebastian smiled. “I was under the impression that the whole point of this exercise was to ensure marital bliss for the both of you.”

Gabriel snorted despondently. “You’ll find no bliss wedded to that blasted harpy,” he remarked begrudgingly. “I assure you.”

“You are decidedly against me courting Victoria.”

“You’re a rake.”

“So are you.”

“Touché. And you are decidedly against me courting Emily.”

Sebastian threw him a scathing look. “You’re a rake.”

They stopped at the water’s edge and sorted through the various bits of tackle. “I don’t have designs on Emily,” Gabriel said a length. “You needn’t drown me.”

“I don’t have designs on Victoria,” Sebastian admitted.

“I needn’t drown you.”

He grinned. “I believed you to be content with your bachelordom, Sinclair,” Sebastian said.

“I am.”

“Then why are you panting after her?”

Gabriel looked at him innocently. “Who?”

“Don’t play coy. You know who.”

The future duke of Hawthorne gave him a blistering glower. “Why are you panting after your ward?”