The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,3

is a wonderful woman.”

“She is,” Gregory said with a happy smile that felt like a punch in Rhys’s gut. “I am the luckiest of men.”

Rhys let out the air in his lungs. “Will you stay in London?”

“Yes. I intend on taking her away this winter and having her all to myself, but for now I have work to do. So we’ll settle into my little home here and practice being newlyweds.”

Once more, Rhys’s gaze flitted to where it didn’t belong: Phillipa.

“And what of you gentlemen? Now that the situation with Montgomery has been resolved, what are your plans?” Gregory asked.

Rhys shook his head. “There is little resolved for me, I fear. Only new problems begun. We can cover up the murder, and I will. My brother was, as far as the law is concerned, a suicide.”

Gilmore grunted a sound of displeasure. “And it only took a few bribes and payoffs. Not that I blame you, of course. It was the most palatable story.”

Rhys flinched. “None of this is palatable. But the specter of murder or suicide or anything else surrounding his death doesn’t change that the world knows what he did before that end. They know about the multiple wives and the debts and the bad acts. There is much to resolve, both the public…and the personal.”

Gilmore and Gregory exchanged a glance filled with concern on Rhys’s behalf. “Can I help?” Gregory asked.

Rhys felt heat suffuse his neck, creep toward his face at the humiliation. “You’ve done so much to help already,” he said. “And I appreciate your kindness, your counsel and your friendship, both of you. But what is left to manage is something I fear I must do alone.”

Gregory looked as though he wanted to argue that point, but before he could his gaze moved toward the three Mrs. Mongomerys. Well, two Mrs. Montgomerys now, and one Mrs. Gregory. There must have been some communication between husband and wife that Rhys couldn’t understand because everything in Gregory’s demeanor changed. He relaxed, loosened. Rhys envied him for that.

“There will be time enough for maudlin reflection on my destroyed life,” Rhys said, giving Gregory a playful shove toward his new wife. “Today is for celebrating. Go to her, as it is obvious you wish to, and don’t give another thought to me.”

Gregory tossed a grin over his shoulder and then did as he’d been told, moving toward Celeste like a thirsty man toward water. When he was gone, Gilmore sidled close and nudged Rhys with his shoulder.

“What exactly are you left to manage?” Gilmore asked. “I am not fawning over a new bride, so perhaps I can be of help.”

Rhys sighed. “My first focus must be my nephew.” He gulped at the idea. “That child should not suffer for what his parents did, not to themselves, not to each other. So we will go to Bath likely the day after tomorrow and I will see what is best in that situation.”

Gilmore arched a brow. “We? Who is we?” Rhys was quiet for apparently too long because the duke answered his own question. “We being you and Pippa?”

There was something in his tone that made Rhys duck his head. “Don’t,” he growled.

Gilmore moved to stand in front of him so he could look him in the face and effectively block any attempt at escape. Because his friend knew him so well, damn him.

“I have been your friend for how long?” he asked softly. Gently, even.

Rhys shook his head and refused to meet Gilmore’s stare. “I don’t know. Too long. All my life. Long enough for me to tell you that I don’t need your opinions.”

Gilmore rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s never stopped me.”

Despite everything, Rhys couldn’t help but smile at the quip. He relaxed a fraction. “No, I suppose it hasn’t. And since you will do as you like without a thought for me, then go ahead and give them, but know I’ll ignore them.”

Gilmore snorted but his demeanor quickly became more serious. “Rhys,” he began, and Rhys stiffened at the use of his given name. They never called each other by anything but their titles, not since they were in short pants. It gave a gravity to the situation that only piled up on everything else. “She is fascinating.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow. He hadn’t expected that to be what his friend said. Fascinating. Yes, that was the way to describe Phillipa, and a slash of jealousy was his immediate response. One he shoved down as hard and as fast as