Page 16 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

T he encounter with Lady Dorothy had gone better than he had imagined that it would. Gerard had left the library feeling quite satisfied with himself. She had thought of him. She had touched herself while thinking of him. That was enough to flatter any man.

He had made the correct decision to pursue her. Even two days later, he found the memory of Lady Dorothy and that night of passion lingering at the forefront of his mind. He was feverish with the need to know where he might see her next.

“I am quite distraught, of course,” Pontoun was saying. “Lady Agatha has already decided that she favors another suitor. She has not said as much, but it is quite obvious to me.”

Was Gerard a terrible friend for not listening to Pontoun complain about his impossible quest for a love-match for the dozenth time that Season? Probably.

Gerard tried to dredge up some penitent feeling and failed. At least, he had not bragged about his recent encounter with Lady Dorothy. That was gracious of him.

“I am sorry to hear that your search is going poorly,” Gerard said, forcing every ounce of sincerity that he could into his voice. “Lady Agatha will not find a better man.”

Gerard had not told anyone about his encounter with Lady Dorothy, and he could not even say precisely why. He was not so ungenteel as to brag about his conquests, but he usually told Pontoun about them. At least, Gerard would name the ladies.

There was something about Lady Dorothy which gave him pause, though. Gerard felt the strangest urge to safeguard her reputation, to let her remain the unsullied and proper spinster in everyone’s eyes.

He was usually unaccustomed to worrying about ladies’ reputations.

Perhaps it was because she was already on the shelf.

A beautiful, young lady could usually find a suitor.

There were always ancient dukes without heirs in a desperate search for a pretty young miss to flaunt to their companions, but there were considerably fewer men in the market for spinsters.

Lady Dorothy insisted that she did not wish to wed, but she might very well change her mind. If she did, Gerard did not want to be the reason why her time on the marriage-mart proved fruitless.

“You would say that!” Pontoun lamented. “You are my friend!”

What had Gerard said? It took him a moment to recall.

He had said that Lady Agatha would not find a better man. Of course.

“I may be your friend, but that does not mean I am dishonest,” Gerard said.

“What are you on about? You are a notorious liar.”

That was true, admittedly.

“No, I’m not,” Gerard replied, grinning.

Pontoun did not look amused.

“You are a good man,” Gerard said. “I will say that once and no more. It is up to you to believe me.”

“I suppose you are right,” Pontoun said glumly. “What of you?”

“Me?”

“You have said very little today. Usually, you would have regaled me with some tale of a young miss whom you managed to ruin.”

“Given how distraught you are over your quest for a love match, I thought I would spare you,” Gerard lied. “I am certain that you do not wish to hear of my conquests.”

“I want to hear of anything that might serve as a distraction,” Pontoun said.

Gerard paused. “About the Apothecaries Act?—”

“Anything but that ,” Pontoun said. “With all due respect, I received enough of that during the last meeting of the House of Lords. You already know that I support the measure. You do not need to work to convert me to join Leedway’s side.”

“It is important to me,” Gerard said, a little defensively. “Forgive me for trying to improve the state of things.”

“You are forgiven,” Pontoun said dryly. “I am certain that Leedway appreciates your devotion to his cause.”

“He’d better. When are you going to present some legislation?” Gerard asked. “Given your aspirations in being a professor, I would think you would enjoy that aspect of being the Duke of St. Claire. Didn’t you want to teach law?”

“Teaching law and crafting legislation are two entirely different animals. But I might ask you the same question. I am unaware of you ever suggesting legislation in your entire time as the Duke of Greenway.”

“That is because I have not needed to present any,” Gerard said, shrugging. “Besides, I would prefer to spend my time in Greenway, managing the dukedom myself. That is far more useful than anything I might bring before parliament.”

“Is it?”

“I believe so,” Gerard said.

“Your father did not share that philosophy,” Pontoun mused.

Gerard clenched his jaw and beckoned for a young man offering glasses of brandy to the gentleman. He would be in sore need of spirits if his father was going to be the topic of the conversation.

“My father wrote a great deal of legislation,” Gerard conceded. “There is a reason that very little of it was ever written into law. The man had much to say, but none of it was very good.”

Gerard gratefully accepted the glass of brandy and took a fortifying swallow.

“Unfortunate,” Pontoun said.

“Yes.”

Pontoun was watching him carefully. “I apologize. I was not thinking when I mentioned your father.”

“You don’t need to apologize. The man has been dead for decades now. He can haunt me no longer.”

If Pontoun noticed the lie, he chose not to remark upon it. “I noticed that you encountered Lady Everleigh,” he said.

Gerard nodded. He did not particularly want to talk about her either, given the recent strange things she had said about him, but it was better to discuss her than his father.

“How is she?” Pontoun asked.

“Luminous. Enjoying her widowhood an unseemly amount.”

“Who could blame her?” Pontoun asked. “The late Lord Everleigh was detestable.”

“And ancient,” Gerard added. “I am certain that she appreciates that fossil being gone.”

Lady Everleigh’s story was actually quite sad. As a young miss of eighteen, her parents had forced her to wed the lecherous Lord Everleigh, who was forty years her senior. She had spent her entire youth with that man.

“She once told me that she could not recall a single tender moment with him,” Gerard added, softening a little. “The man was a brute. A monster.”

“To her freedom,” Pontoun said, taking a glass of brandy and raising it in a toast.

“I will drink to that,” Gerard said, clinking his glass against the one his friend held. “Even if she has grown odd of late.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Gerard blinked, realizing too late that he had said more than he intended. He took a hearty swallow of his brandy. “I called upon her earlier in the week, and she said some things that were peculiar.”

Pontoun’s expression became wary. “Are you going to tell me something perverse?”

“Not at all,” Gerard said. “It was more that she sounded like…”

“Like?”

Gerard frowned, thinking. “You are not allowed to laugh.”

Pontoun grinned and leaned forward, suddenly appearing too interested in the subject. Gerard silently wished his friend would return to his morose complaints about the difficulty of procuring a love match.

“I am prepared not to laugh,” Pontoun said, with the tone of a man who was going to laugh.

Gerard sighed. “She sounded like I imagine someone’s mother might sound.”

“ Oh .”

“Yes. She told me that I need to be searching for a suitable duchess,” Gerard said. “She is concerned that I have not yet produced an heir for the dukedom.”

Pontoun whistled between his teeth. “That does sound like a mother.”

“I could do without her maternal advice,” Gerard said dryly.

“She is right, though.”

Gerard frowned. “I do not want any advice in that regard from you either.”

“I know. But what is your plan? Do you plan to be a rake forever and pursue an endless litany of ladies? And just let the dukedom….fall where it may?”

“I have distant cousins.”

So distant that he had never met them, but that hardly mattered. It was not as if the dukedom would cease to be if he did not produce an heir.

“Then, you have no interest in training a successor to properly understand the needs of the dukedom,” Pontoun said flatly. “You would see all your hard work to manage it undone in a single generation.”

“You do not know that.”

“I know that if you have an heir, you can ensure that the man who succeeds you knows how to manage things properly.”

“You were never taught to manage your dukedom, and you seem to be doing well enough,” Gerard pointed out. “I imagine that my successor will do the same.”

“But why?” Pontoun asked. “Why can’t you just marry some lady out of convenience?”

Gerard inhaled sharply. “ Careful ,” he growled. “I value your friendship, but I am uninterested in having this same conversation twice in one week.”

“Because you know we are right.”

Gerard shook his head and downed the rest of the brandy. It was not nearly enough alcohol to give him that familiar, light feeling that he often experienced when he drank spirits.

“Enough,” Gerard said. “I do not wish to ever marry, and that is all you need to know.”

Pontoun sighed. “Very well. But I do wish you would consider the possibility. It is uncomely for a man to be a bachelor forever.”

“Then, I will be uncomely.”

“So it seems.”

Gerard twirled his empty glass in his hand, frowning and wishing he had not consumed the brandy so quickly.

“Why did you go to visit her?” Pontoun asked. “Were you hoping to rekindle your affair?”

“No. I just wanted to talk,” Gerard said. “The fancy struck me, and you were not around.”

It occurred to Gerard just how pathetic that sounded.

When he wanted to talk to someone, he only had Gerard and old lovers to return to.

And Halls, he supposed. However, Halls was employed by Gerard and forced to listen to him.

He did not count as a confidante. The man barely counted as a butler, given that his only loyalty to Gerard came from being well paid.

“What was the subject of your conversation? Aside from your refusal to wed,” Pontoun added hastily. “Is there something weighing on your mind?”

There wasn’t until I spoke with her.

Gerard shook his head. “No, I just wanted to see how she was getting along. I suppose. She has a new lover.”

“Really? Who?”

“She would not say, but I assume he is one of the ton. Lady Everleigh encountered me at Lord Bryton’s ball, and she mentioned that he is a jealous man. I suspect that she hoped her lover, whoever he might be, would see us and be moved to some act of passion.”

“Lady Everleigh seems like an interesting lady,” Pontoun said.

“She is. If you like, I would be happy to introduce you,” Gerard said. “I was drawn to her because she is pleasant company. Intelligent, witty, charming. Everything but beautiful.”

Pontoun opened his mouth as though he meant to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he took a sip of his brandy.

Gerard watched his friend’s face, waiting for the man to say something unpleasant. Pontoun did not.

“I liked her because she knew exactly what we were to one another,” Gerard said after a moment. “Lady Everleigh was content to accept that we were having an affair and that there would never be anything more between us. Sometimes, young women have difficulty with that.”

“You are partly to blame for that, my friend,” Pontoun said gently. “You spin pretty words for them, and even if you insist that you do not want anything more serious with them, young ladies believe you do. They believe that they can reform you into something that you are not.”

“Is that my fault? I should think it is theirs.”

“Perhaps, the fault lies with both of you.”

Gerard hummed. “Perhaps, you are right.”

He thought of Lady Dorothy. She was not a naive, young miss.

She was someone with enough age and wisdom to know the danger of rakes.

Lady Dorothy would know that he did not intend for her to be anything more than a flight of fancy, the object of his desires for a few months, who would be soon replaced by an equally beautiful young lady.

“So when am I to meet the next object of your desires?” Pontoun asked.

Gerard hummed and pretended to mull the idea over. “Soon,” he said.

But in truth, he had no idea.