Page 58
Story: A Bride for the Rakish Duke
It would mean breaking a second rule, but at this juncture, Lydia no longer cared. For every time she broke a rule, it somehow seemed to bring Will back to her.
CHAPTER 23
“Ithought I might find you here,” a voice drifted through the smoke of the gentlemen’s club, drawing William out of his brandy-soaked stupor.
He did not know what hour of day it was, nor what day, but he had almost succeeded in forgetting the things Lydia had said. He had almost convinced himself that all would be well, and his wife would eventually see reason and accept that their marriage would never be anything more than convenient. Now, Anthony had come to ruin his peace.
“Where else would I be? I am celebrating, dear brother,” William replied, raising an empty glass.
Anthony dragged a chair across the hazy parlor to the table and sat down. “Alone?”
“My associate had other matters to attend to, but he shared a drink or two with me earlier,” William explained. “I am tobe a spice merchant—well, an investor in spice—with a small investment in the tin mines. Is that not exciting?”
He had not been entirely idle over the past few days, spending hours poring over documents and contracts withthe Cruel Duke, ensuring there was no wording that could possibly be misinterpreted—one thing he could thank Lydia for. And with her dowry, and the Cruel Duke’s assurances, he was set to become a reasonably wealthy man. He might have been obscenely wealthy, but after subtracting his father’s debts from his predicted income, it was merely a comfortable quarterly sum.
“You caused quite an uproar at Bruxton Hall,” Anthony said grimly. “No one knew where Lydia had gone. The Duke and Duchess were set to send out a search party before someone mentioned that they had seen two carriages leave. Which, by the way, leftmewithout the means to return home. I had to rely on the generosity of Lydia’s sister and her brother-in-law, which wasnota pleasant experience, considering your actions.”
William pulled a face, feeling somewhat guilty. He had only considered that he might be stranding his brother after the fact when nothing could be done to alter it.
“Has Lydia’s sister gone to Stonebridge?” he asked.
Anthony shook his head. “No, though I believe they will be journeying there in a few days. You have Silas to thank for that—he persuaded his wife not to intervene, suggesting the two of you might need some time alone to figure out your differences.” Hepaused. “Of course, whenIrealized you were not at Stonebridge, I came straight to London to knock some sense into you.”
William chuckled. “I should like to see you try.”
“This is not a laughing matter, William,” Anthony replied coldly. “You are too old and too married to be playing these sorts of games. You are notthe Great Rakeanymore, and you have a lovely, devoted, charming wife waiting for you at home. And I do not mind telling you that she looks… heartbroken.”
“Good,” William said, almost involuntarily, as if something else had control of his tongue.
“Pardon?”
William set down his glass and leaned back in his chair. “If she is heartbroken, she will not expect anything from me. She will pursue her happiness, as we agreed, instead of waiting for me to provide it. I cannot be blamed if she has misunderstood the terms of our marriage, for I was exceptionally clear.”
Indeed, he had been proud of how clear he had been, in order to avoid another Lady Emma situation. But he was beginning to wonder if he had been vaguer than he had realized.
“You can,” Anthony replied. “You can because I have seen you together. I have seen you look at one another, I have seen the way you tease and tempt one another, and I have seen the attachment blossoming between you.”
William flashed his brother a withering look. “You see what you want to see. I suspect my wife has the same problem, but she will find the gentleman she has dreamed of soon enough. A few more balls like the Bruxton Ball, and she will forget all thoughts of fidelity and whatnot.”
“Goodness, for a clever man, you are a dolt sometimes,” Anthony shot back. “She only danced with the Earl of Gorsley and had other names on her dance card because her sister and the Duchess of Bruxton practically forced her to—told her she would be deemed strange if she did not. That is what her sister told me on that… awkward carriage journey, and she has no reason to lie, considering she hates you.”
William raised an eyebrow. “It does not bother me, Anthony. What you fail to understand is that I want her to enjoy the company of other gentlemen, just not in public.”
It took more effort than William had expected to even say those words to his brother, though he could not fathom why. Once again, Lydia’s voice came back to haunt him.
This is what you wanted.
But steadily, and without his permission, those words were becoming less of a reminder of his success and more of a taunt.
“I do not believe that for a moment,” Anthony replied, turning up his nose. “If it had not bothered you, you would not have taken Lydia away from the ball. I do not care to hear aboutpunishmentsandconsequenceseither, for you could havereprimanded her afterward. You removed her from the situation because you did not like it. You cannot fool me.”
William shrugged, annoyed by the itchy sensation in his chest. “Believe or disbelieve whatever you want, Anthony, but do it elsewhere. You are dampening my mood, and I have many hours of celebrating ahead of me.”
“There is barely a soul here.” Anthony gestured around the sparsely populated smoking room. The other rooms were not much better. Even the yawning waiters seemed to be wondering why William was there at such an hour.
“It is early. Others will come, and when they do, they can share in my good fortune,” William replied.
Anthony shook his head. “I never thought a day would come where I would say this, Will, but… you are not merely afraid, you are a coward.”
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