Page 12 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

CHAPTER 11

W illiam had a wife. That was good. It was strange .

He drummed his fingers against the polished wood of his desk and considered the young woman. Their wedding night had been pleasant, as expected, and he supposed that she was doing well.

A better man might have joined her at breakfast or arrived at her chambers to ensure that her first amorous congress had come to a satisfactory conclusion and had resulted in only a little pain, but he was not most men. Besides, he had far too many obligations as the Duke of Sarsen to let himself become distracted by a wife. As fetching as she was.

There was a polite knock at his door. “Enter,” he announced.

The door opened, and Geoffrey bowed deeply. “As requested, Your Grace.”

The butler stepped aside, revealing the massive form of Algernon Hamilton, the Earl of Brookshire. He grinned rakishly, sauntering into William’s study as if he owned it. The man’s brown eyes were warm and alight with good humor. “I hear that you have been married, and you did not invite me,” Hamilton said.

William sighed. If Hamilton had been any other man, William would have found the comment irritating, but of all his companions from Eton and Cambridge, Hamilton was the closest thing William had to a real friend. He was someone William should have invited to the wedding.

“How did you even learn about that?” William asked instead.

“Pour me a drink, and I will tell you.”

William scowled, but Hamilton remained unaffected. Instead, the man dropped into a chair and mockingly cocked a leg over the arm of it. Hamilton had never taken himself very seriously. Indeed, he did not take anything seriously, aside from a peculiar and enduring fondness for the poor in London.

“I am mystified as to why I remain friends with you,” William said, reaching for the decanter.

“You have excellent taste,” Hamilton quipped.

William filled a glass and pushed it to his friend, who took it in an instant. “ However ,” Hamilton drawled. “I shall not let you distract me from my original topic, which was that you neglected to inform me of your wedding.”

William considered the decanter of brandy and poured a glass of his own. “How did you learn of my wedding? It only happened yesterday.”

Hamilton waved a dismissive hand. “Irrelevant. Why did you not invite me? I would have liked to have been there.”

“It was a rather quick affair and would have been quicker still if my wife’s brother had not been so frustrating,” William said.

“The Duke of Reeds is well-known for being protective of his sisters,” Hamilton said. “I cannot say that I am surprised by his hesitancy to relinquish one to the marriage bed.”

Hamilton’s source was clearly someone with access to the ton and apparently quite a gossip, unsurprising given most of Hamilton’s company.

“I am surprised that you chose Lady Catherine,” Hamilton continued. “Do you know anything about her, my friend?”

“Of course,” William said. “I married her.”

Hamilton took a sip of his brandy and tilted his head slightly, an expression that William recognized all too well.

“You do not need to look at me as though I have taken leave of my senses,” William said gruffly. “She is a suitable bride and will be an adequate duchess.”

“She is unlike most ladies of the ton,” Hamilton cautioned. “She is too…fiery. Undisciplined.”

“I am surprised that you did not get along well with her,” William replied dryly, “given that you are also ruled chiefly by your passions and are the very embodiment of undisciplined .”

“You wound me,” Hamilton said. “I have no particular dislike for the young lady, and you are right. We very well might have become friends with her if we had any mutual acquaintances in our circles. Because she is your wife, we may yet become friends. But I would not wish to marry her. She is too much like me.”

“I hope she is not too much like you,” William said, thinking about all the salacious stories he had heard about Hamilton over their years of friendship.

“You know what I meant,” Hamilton scoffed. “Still, if you are happy, I am happy for you.”

“Good,” William said. “I really married her for Hester and Hannah, though. They need a womanly presence in their lives.”

“They have a governess,” Hamilton said. “A pretty governess with good breeding.”

“She is insufficient,” William said. “She tries to manage the girls, but she is young and inexperienced. Besides, she was unable to marry well. I need a lady who can prepare my sisters for their Seasons and help them make advantageous marriages.”

Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “Until quite recently, your own wife was not particularly adept at securing marriage proposals. How do you foresee her managing your own sisters any better?”

“My duchess did not secure marriage proposals because she did not really want them and because Reeds did not make her behave like a proper lady,” William said. “My wife has assured me that she will be a proper duchess, and on our wedding day, I saw that.”

“We shall see,” Hamilton replied, not bothering to conceal his disbelief. “You seem satisfied with your choice, though. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Yes.” William paused and narrowed his eyes. “But why are you here? Is this only a social visit?”

Hamilton smiled. “Mostly. I was hoping to solicit your support on a matter, if you are not opposed to discussing parliament.”

William shook his head. “The Season is over, my friend,” he said gravely. “Are you already so eager to do business?”

“As eager as you,” Hamilton replied, nodding to the desk. “Otherwise, you would not be hidden away in here buried under papers.”

William sighed. “I am still trying to untangle the snarl that my brother made of the dukedom.”

“God rest his soul,” Hamilton said flippantly.

William clenched his jaw. “ Careful .”

“Apologies if I have caused offense,” Hamilton replied, waving his glass. “It is only the alcohol speaking.”

As if the three sips of brandy could be responsible for anything that Hamilton was doing. William raked a hand through his hair and grimaced. He held his brother, the late Duke of Sarsen, in peculiar and contradictory regard. Thomas had been beyond bad for the dukedom. He had spent money as though it was a limitless resource, hosting extravagant balls, raking across the continent, and drinking to excess.

It had been a surprise to no one when Thomas offended another gentleman and died in a duel. They had never been close, but still, William found that he loved his brother and held no small measure of familial loyalty for the man.

“I wanted to draft some legislation to provide additional relief to the poor,” Hamilton said. “I wondered if you would be willing to look over it once I finish and if you might be willing to support me. You know that I often…come across wrongly to some of the lords.”

“You have made no effort to remedy that,” William said.

“Should I?”

William realized rather suddenly that he had somehow found himself surrounded by wild, eccentric people. How had that happened?

“It might help you on occasion,” William said dryly. “And the gall of you to insist that my wife is unsuitable when you behave just like her! By your own admission, no less!”

Hamilton only shrugged. “You know as well as I that a man has more freedom than a woman in terms of permissible behavior. Besides, I am not vying to become a duchess. When I inevitably marry, I do not anticipate a shortage of brides. Any baron’s daughter will happily wed even the most detestable earl if it means that she might become a countess.”

“I suppose I will help you,” William said. “The cause is just, even if its champion is a den of vices.”

Hamilton winked. “Shall I pretend that you have no vices yourself?”

“That would be ideal given that you are requesting a favor of me,” William pointed out.

Hamilton grinned and raised his glass in a mock toast. “Then, you are among the most moral of men with nary a vice to your name.”

William’s thoughts wandered to his young bride and how she had appeared bent over the loveseat the night before. In his mind’s eye, he heard her harsh gasps for air and saw the beads of sweat tracing the length of her spine. She had a perfect figure, so fine that even Aphrodite herself would be flushed with envy.

This was not good. He could not let his wife prove to be a distraction.

“And you are a liar,” William said dryly.

“All men are,” Hamilton replied. “Especially those among the ton. We would tear each other apart if we spoke truthfully every moment of our lives.”

“In all likelihood.”

“So how is the dukedom faring?” Hamilton asked, leaning forward and peering at the papers spread across the desk. “Every time I speak to you, it seems as though you uncover a new rot.”

William sighed. “It feels that way. This time, I discovered a bride.”

“Lady Catherine?”

William briefly recounted the story of finding the contract buried in a stack of his late father’s papers, which he strongly suspected that Thomas had never even touched. Once William finished, Hamilton whistled between his teeth.

“What a surprise that must have been. But you chose Lady Catherine over Lady Dorothy?” Hamilton asked. “Would she not be a far better maternal presence in the lives of your sisters? I know that Lady Dorothy has sworn herself to spinsterdom, but I cannot imagine that she would deny the Duke of Sarsen.”

“No,” William said. “Eventually, she would have done as I asked.”

“But?” Hamilton inquired, arching an eyebrow.

William shrugged. “I chose the younger sister. She seemed like she would be more suitable, and she agreed to marry me with significantly less complaint.”

Privately, he thought about how intriguing his wife was. It was rare that anyone had the courage to defy him, and there was something admirable about that, especially given that the courage had come from such a young lady. Reeds was a duke in his own right, but even his shows of defiance had been small and easily quelled. His wife—his duchess—was something entirely different.

“Interesting,” Hamilton said, downing the rest of his brandy. “Perhaps I do not know your bride as well as I thought.”

William grunted. “You know her well enough,” he said warningly.

Hamilton laughed. “I meant nothing of it. There is no need to try and intimidate me.”

William took a sip of his brandy and narrowed his eyes. “No?”

“No,” Hamilton said warmly. “You are my friend, and I would never do anything to sully the reputation of either you or your duchess. Do you not know that by now?”

William frowned. “I trust you.”

He was not quite sure that was true. Hamilton was the only person around whom William really felt that he could be himself. Around Hamilton, William could abandon all pretense and not worry about how he might look or how the dukedom might look, and yet he knew his friend’s reputation well. Hamilton had bedded a married woman before. A newly married duchess might be a prize that was difficult to resist.

“Good. You had better,” Hamilton said, placing the empty glass upon William’s desk. “After all, I have done nothing to earn your dis trust.”

“Not yet,” William said.

“Not ever,” Hamilton replied, grinning. “And I never shall. I will not keep you from your fascinating papers, though. I know how you can be.”

Hamilton stood.

“What do you mean by that?” William asked. “How I can be?”

Hamilton shrugged. “I mean, that when you are working, you are often reluctant to quit. You can be rather terse if kept away from manners of business for very long.”

“That is untrue.”

“It is entirely true. If you do not believe me, ask anyone. Ask your wife,” Hamilton said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I would warrant that you have not yet even spoken to her this morning.”

Indeed, he had not, but William had no intention of giving Hamilton the satisfaction of having predicted his behavior so accurately.

“You are mistaken,” William said smoothly.

Hamilton bowed. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

After the man departed, William glanced at the empty glass. Maybe he did work a little more than he ought to, but someone had to save the dukedom. Thomas had left a mess of things, and sacrifices would have to be made if the Dukedom of Sarsen was to be whole and prosperous once again.