Page 114 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Warwick grit his teeth and pushed Edwin away. “Then tell me where I can find him now.”

…

The stench of cheap gin and cigar smoke wafted to Warwick as soon as he stepped foot in the gambling hell. It was a different one this time but had a similar feel. Despair oozed from the pores of the man sitting at the table across from Stan Slade.

Slade’s black eyes glinted with avaricious anticipation as he held his own cards. The ever-present cigar dangled from his lips. Warwick didn’t think the moneylender gambled, only took advantage of those who did, but perhaps he was bored tonight. Warwick recognized his victim, the third son of a marquess. How much did the bloke already owe the moneylender?

Warwick halted at the hazard table. “A word, Slade.”

Slade never looked up from his cards. “I’m busy tonight.”

“I’m not asking.”

Slade lifted his gaze, his expression bland. When he noticed Warwick, one dark eyebrow arched upward. “To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit, Your Grace?”

“We spoke. I thought I was clear,” Warwick said.

“Ah, you must be referring to my betrothed, Lady Adeline.”

The word “betrothed” coming from Slade’s lips was enough to stiffen Warwick’s jaw. He wanted to smash the man’s face with his fist. His hired lackey took a step forward. Slade waved his man back.

“I told you to stay away from the lady,” Warwick said.

“And I told you her brother made me a promise,” Slade countered.

“I know how much Lord Foster owes you.”

“Then you know it’s a significant amount.”

“I will double his payment.”

Slade removed his cigar and leaned back in his chair. “Why would you do that?”

“My reasons don’t matter. In exchange for the payment, you will release Lady Adeline from the betrothal, and you will never bother her, her sister, or her family in the future.” If he could exclude Edwin he would gladly do so. But Warwick knew it had to be the entire family, for Adeline’s sake.

Everything was for her.

Slade’s lips quirked. “I could ask for triple.”

Warwick moved so fast, the man could only blink. He grabbed him by the throat, lifted him off his seat, and slammed him against the wall. When his lackey tried to intervene, Warwick shook his head. “Move and I’ll snap his neck.”

Slade nodded. Once more, the man backed off.

It was unlike Warwick to resort to physical violence, yet twice in one day he found himself using his strength to intimidate his enemies.

“You will take the offer. Or I will use my influence as a duke of the realm to ruin you socially and financially. No marriage to any daughter of the aristocracy will elevate your status. Do you understand?”

“Yes, dammit.” Spittle sprayed Warwick’s face. He didn’t ease his grip.

“Good. Find a quill and a sheet of foolscap. I will dictate the terms.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Warwick spotted Adeline sitting outside on a stone bench in her garden. Mary had taken him to the French doors leading outside and pointed to where Adeline rested with her back to them.

Mary’s eyebrows drew together, and her voice was steeped with concern. “She’s been outside for more than an hour. She says she wants time alone. I’m afraid her solitude has much more to do with melancholy than clearing her thoughts. She has been weeping.” She choked back a cry. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

He hated to see either his love or her sister cry. “Neither of you need worry anymore. I made things right with the moneylender. Stan Slade is releasing Adeline from their betrothal.”