Patrick’s eyes were twinkling now and Braddon relaxed.

“Never heard of her in my life. No poaching, word of honor.” If Patrick added hastily to himself, “at least, not on Madeleine,” there was no need to say it out loud. But his brother looked at him keenly. Alex sensed the ellipse, the unspoken words. One of the disadvantages of having a twin was invariable detection of silent lies.

Patrick cleared his throat. “Have you known Madeleine long?”

Braddon’s mouth tightened again. “ ‘Miss Garnier’ to you.” Then he blinked, hearing how foolish he sounded.

“I met her a few weeks ago. That’s what I was telling Alex when you showed up. It’s providence; has to be. I finally got myself a proper wife—my mother’s up in the clouds about it—and I met Madeleine, all in the same week.

“And you know what else?” Braddon continued with a burst of confidence. “I quite like the idea of marrying Sophie York. She’s got backbone. Perhaps she can even hold my mother off. Perhaps they’ll have an argument and my mother will refuse to visit the house.”

He beamed like a man granted a view of heaven.

“You’d still have to contend with her mother,” Patrick drawled. He himself quite liked the old martinet, the Marchioness of Brandenburg, but she would terrorize Braddon.

Braddon shuddered visibly. “I won’t be around much. I think I’ll buy Madeleine a house in Mayfair. What do you think?”

Patrick felt uneasiness stirring again. “You can’t do that,” he snapped. “Your house is in Mayfair. Buy Miss Garnier a house in Shoreditch.”

“No.” Braddon’s long jaw set.

Patrick’s heart sank. He’d seen that look before, whenever Braddon had decided on a plan of the utmost idiocy.

“I want Madeleine near me. I’m not ashamed of her.”

“It’s not a question of your shame,” Alex put in. “One would hate to offend the feelings of your future wife. When Lady Sophie becomes your countess, she might meet your mistress face to face every week.”

“That’s why I picked Sophie York,” Braddon said triumphantly. “She’s up to snuff. It won’t bother her at all. In fact, I have a mind to introduce them, after a bit of time has passed.”

Patrick stared at him, nonplussed. His old friend had finally lost his mind. That was the only explanation. Who would want a mistress when he could have Sophie?

And Sophie! What would happen to her when her mutton-brained husband started flaunting his mistress all over the street? Patrick’s chest tightened to think of it. He cast a wild glance at his brother.

“I’ve seen quite a bit of Sophie York in the last year,” Alex said rather slowly. “She is my wife’s closest friend, you know. I wouldn’t describe her as worldly. If anything, she is remarkably naive for a woman who has been out for two years.”

“She may be naive,” Braddon replied with some impatience, “although I don’t believe it myself. You must have heard the tales about her—my God, you’d think she’d kissed every man in London. Not that I care. Anyway, she may be naive, but she’s certainly knowing when it comes to marriage. Look at her own father! She can’t have missed his activities.