Page 100 of In With a Chance

“Damn it, woman, give me a chance to ravish you!”

Ernest shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “You must think I’m a monster.”

“I think Gwen is the monster, honestly,” her brother said frankly. “Who puts something that important in a letter? Why didn’t she just go and see him, tell the marquess she didn’t want to marry him anymore?”

They were Ernest’s own thoughts reflected back at him—but now, Ernest could do nothing but rise to her defense.

“I imagine because she was worried about how he would react,” Ernest said somberly, thinking of Lord Ravenshurst and all his riches and respectability. “You know. React badly somehow. Not listen, not…”

Oh, damn.

Michael was grinning, the rogue. “Yes, tell me more about how a man might react badly to a woman’s honest tidings—”

“Yes, yes, very clever,” Ernest said with a dry laugh as he shook his head. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here. None of your family can probably stand the sight of me, and I can’t imagine why you can.”

“Well, I think the best man should probably be the first to know the good news,” Michael said lightly. “Don’t you?”

Ernest blinked.

Best… Best man?

What on earth was he talking about? There was not going to be a wedding in the family that Michael could be best man for. If Miss Theodora Chance were to marry, and Ernest had seen no sign of any courting from anyone in that direction, then surely, it would be the groom’s confidant who would stand as best man.

Wait a moment. Am I the best man?

No, that’s idiotic, Ernest decided in a rush of panic. Michael was already married. So what did that mean? That Michael was the best man for…

No.

“There is not going to be a wedding,” Ernest said with a sigh, shaking his head again and wishing he hadn’t after the sudden flash of pain from his nose. “Gwen and I—”

“You and Gwen are made for each other, and it pains me to say that because I don’t like the idea of my baby sister becoming some man’s wife,” said Michael darkly, “but there it is. You need each other. You belong together.”

“We don’t work,” Ernest said stiffly, desperately trying not to think of that wonderful evening when they had become closer than he had ever thought it possible to be. “Look at us! One argument, one misunderstanding, and it all falls apart!”

“You mean you walked away.”

He did not particularly like his friend’s tone, but there was not much Ernest could to about it.

After all, Michael was right.

He had walked away. Run away, really, from the reality of what it was to be married.

Had this happened before? Had he pushed Laura away, too, not been involved enough in the wedding planning, not shown her enough interest? Had she been lonely, perhaps? Had it been that, as well as the natural connection between her and Charles, that had led her to abandon Ernest for his brother?

Ernest’s stomach roiled. He could never go back to that time and completely untangle what had occurred. There would always be questions. Always be unanswered worries.

It was Gwen who was before him: Gwen, the woman he loved in a way he had never loved Laura.

Gwen was the woman who appeared in his vision whenever he closed his eyes. Gwen dogged every thought in his waking hours, and she appeared mostly unclad in his dreams.

Something he rather thought he wouldn’t tell her brother.

Michael was still staring. “You love her.”

“I love her,” admitted Ernest, sighing heavily and wishing he hadn’t as his nose twitched in agony.

“Goodness, you’re so in love that tears are even sparkling in your eyes—”