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Chapter Thirteen

T his is better. This will clear your mind and set your priorities straight.

The carriage jostled Hugh in a sporadic pattern that he allowed his brain to disappear into. He’d successfully evaded Selina’s lessons for the day, claiming that he had work he had to see to, and now, he had escaped from further encounters with her by seeing himself off to the tavern.

A stiff drink and a distraction were required if he was to keep his head level and his actions civil. And it could not come soon enough, this admittedly short drive in the coach to his desired destination taking far too long.

You must steady yourself, Hugh. This is not right. Not even you can justify meddling with Selina. She is in your care, for Christ’s sake.

It was too true, and Hugh had been working to convince himself of that much for days now. Being around Selina for her blasted lessons, which, yes, he had requested, was getting to be too much for him. Fresh air and the company of a woman not living under the same roof would set him right.

It had been so foolish of him to assume that teasing and tormenting that gorgeous woman would do anything but end poorly. He couldn’t offer her more than a flirtation, a brief tryst, as much as it pained him to admit that he also wanted more than that.

Which simply wouldn’t do.

Heavens, that dance… She had been…

Hugh lost himself to the memory of entwining himself with Selina during their mock ball. It had been just the two of them in the grand room, the sound of their shoes hitting the floor and Selina’s counting the only noises to distract him from the feeling of her in his arms.

And then it had become so quiet. If anyone had entered, they would have been immediately suspicious about what the two of them were doing because Hugh could not look away from her, Selina suffering the same, and his touches had lingered too long.

Hugh needed to pull himself together. This was a problem to which the only solution was stalwartly refusing to give in to that side of himself. Or find another who might suit his needs, which, of course, had been why he’d stolen away to the tavern late this evening.

The rumbling of the coach stopped, and Hugh shook himself from his thoughts as the driver pulled up to the walk that lay before one of the places he used to frequent often when he had previously resided in London. The Golden Calf—a small, lively pub best suited for those not of the aristocracy.

But he did not care about his new title. This was a necessary detour on the road to perfecting his social etiquette.

“Thank you, tiger.” Hugh stepped down from the carriage, heading straight to the main door of the establishment. “I will likely be inside for several hours but remain close by.”

The coachman called out his agreement, and Hugh left the only moderately busy street behind him as he stepped inside.

Immediately, the scent of alcohol and damp wood met his senses.

It relaxed Hugh in an odd way that familiarity could account for, and he proceeded to the bar near the back to acquire a drink.

It took no time at all for him to be delivered an ale, the taste igniting him because it, too, was familiar and comfortable. It was certainly not the fine port or liquor of the estate or balls that he had attended, and something about that fact alone eased the tension dogging his shoulders.

He finished the first drink poured in moments, requesting another and then a third when he’d already consumed the second in a matter of a few short minutes as well. His head swam with mild intoxication, just the desired effect Hugh had been searching for.

This was where Hugh had spent so much of his time as he became a man.

There were no grand Season events or garden parties for him, but simple evenings in the tavern after a long day of work.

Returning here felt right. He felt as if he belonged, and the pressure of saying and doing the right thing melted away.

“Oi, one for me, eh?” A young woman, a few feet down the bar, called out to the man cleaning a mug behind it, and Hugh’s heart thumped harder.

She was lovely and much more the type of woman he was used to associating with. Without thinking, Hugh began to approach her, eyeing the blazing autumn hair that was piled loosely on top of her head and the ample bosom she did nothing to hide that nearly spilled from her top.

Just your type, eh, Hugh?

As he sipped at his ale, the Duke leaned on his elbow, taking up a place at the bar right next to the woman.

“Good evening, miss.” She glanced over at him, the surprise on her face quickly switching to interest. “Allow me to pay for your drink.”

She grinned, nothing shy or restrained about it. “Thank you, kind sir. And might I sit with you then? I would adore having a gentleman such as yourself to talk to.”

It was clear he hadn’t lost his charm or the easy appeal of his looks, and Hugh silently preened that it hadn’t taken long at all to find exactly what he was looking for in a companion for the evening.

He’d done this several times before his title forced him to abandon these cherished evenings of “inappropriate” behavior.

In truth, he didn’t take women to bed as often as the rumors might suggest, but he was hardly a monk.

Hugh was guilty of enjoying women on a regular basis.

Still, he had always kept his attention focused on those who would not suffer from him, and it was freeing to be back in that place again with no ton to impress and appease in sight.

“Please do,” he replied, his smile turning devilish as he wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist and led her away from the bar with their drinks in hand. “An evening of conversation is just what I had in mind.”

They sat in a set of chairs near the back door for a few minutes, sipping idly at their drinks before Hugh whispered to the woman too low for any of the patrons to hear, and they slyly crept into the alley.

The thrill of taking someone in such a public place, admittedly a favorite of his, bubbled through his veins as Hugh led his partner for the evening to a shadowy corner of the alley and pressed her back against the wall.

Any actual conversation died when they stepped outside, the two of them being utterly silent as the sounds of passersby echoed through the streets around them.

There was no precise way to tell who was near them and what they might see as Hugh’s lips found the crook of the lass’s neck, a needy moan slipping from her.

It was clear she enjoyed the idea that they might be caught as much as he did when a tiny whisper sounded in his ear.

“Yes, right here. Right in the open.”

Hugh grinned against the unnamed woman’s flesh, having not learned what it might be or anything much about her beyond the fact that she was attractive and happy to engage in a quick moment of passion with him. He reached for the hem of her gown, bunching it up so that he could get at her.

There were firm muscles beneath the woman’s soft skin, and her red locks tumbled free in random places as she arched against the brick wall behind her. The moment was heated, undoubtedly, but Hugh found himself not quite physically ready to act on his desire.

“Your touch is fire,” the woman crooned, and Hugh swallowed hard, a lump in his throat.

As he looked down at her, her eyes squeezed shut, Hugh suddenly saw black curls where there were meant to be red tresses. He saw deep brown eyes where this woman’s were blue.

Suddenly, his heart pounded furiously in his chest, and he could not blame it on exhilaration or arousal. His movements stilled, his fingers releasing their hold on the woman’s dress, and he stepped back, a strange nausea clinging to his stomach.

“What is it?” the woman asked, her brow furrowed as she looked up at him, disheveled and flushed.

“I… I cannot. I am terribly sorry.”

Shock took the woman’s face, but then she eyed him, her expression changing as she threw him a knowing look and smirked.

“Bring her over. I can entertain the both of you.”

Hugh pulled back, his brow squeezing as he shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about. You are wrong. I-I must go. Excuse me.”

Without another word, Hugh spun on his heel and fled the alley, searching out on the front street for his carriage and immediately flinging himself inside it. His heart screamed in his ears, a boom that shook him with each beat as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Your Grace,” the driver spoke from just outside the carriage door, “has there been a change in plans? Are you quite all right?”

His head was still swimming from the drink he’d taken in a bit too quickly, but Hugh nodded, racking his mind for somewhere else to go because he could not return to Soulden estate.

“Yes. Take me to the residence of my solicitor, a Mr. Jonah McMills. We have retrieved him from his home previously.”

“Of course, Your Grace. At once.”

The tiger left him, taking his place on the carriage, and then it hurried forward to bring him to Jonah’s. His closest friend was the only place in the whole of London he could think to go just now, and Hugh quietly begged for the journey to be over with quickly.

By the time the coach pulled up to Jonah’s, Hugh felt slightly better.

The rage of the alcohol had subsided somewhat in his blood, but he was still particularly distraught over what had happened with the woman outside the tavern.

He stepped down from the coach a little clumsily and went to Jon’h's door, pounding to be let inside.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Jonah stood before Hugh, looking especially annoyed and fatigued.

“What in God’s name are you doing here, Hugh? I was making myself ready for bed.”

“Apologies, sincerely, but please do not force me to remain out on the street, Jonah. Let me in. It has been an awful set of days.”

Rolling his eyes, Jonah stepped to the side, allowing the Duke entrance and showed Hugh back to his kitchen where Jonah forced him to take a seat and imbibe a strong cup of tea.

“All right. Out with it, then. Tell me what has happened that has forced my friend from his bed to my house at so late an hour.”

Hugh rambled off his list of annoyances and concerns that had accumulated since the last time the two of them spoke.

It felt like a rather long list of items that revolved strongly around Selina and the responsibilities that weighed on him as Duke.

He also mentioned the woman outside the tavern when Jonah had pressured him into revealing why he smelled of ale and damp.

“I do not know what is wrong with me. Why do I see another that I have no interest in when I am meant to be finally enjoying a moment of pleasure where I feel like my true self once more?”

Jonah eyed him skeptically. It was clear that whatever Hugh had been saying, his dear friend didn’t believe a single word of it. Taking a sip of his own tea, Jonah set the cup down on the table and sighed.

“My dearest friend. Is it truly in your mind that you have no interest in the Dowager? You have spoken of her constantly since you have arrived here, and seeing her visage on the face of another outside of the bar should be rather telling.”

Hugh reeled back, the notion utterly preposterous.

“Jonah, how could you think such a thing? I have no interest in the Dowager whatsoever. It is only on my mind to get her married as quickly as possible so that I might go back to business as I know it and no longer be held up by this endless stream of duties that are in my responsibility as Duke.”

“You have much to think of, Your Grace, but it will not be done at my table. We both need our rest, and it is best that you return to the estate so that you can draft up your solutions within the privacy of your own study.”

Jonah walked the Duke to the door. Hugh’s steps were still a little less than graceful though the effects of the alcohol were slowly coming to an end.

Offering his friend a handshake, Hugh bid Jonah farewell and slipped outside back into the comfort of the carriage.

He directed the tiger to carry him home as quickly as possible.

There would be no solutions found this evening. He knew that much, but even worse, Hugh knew without a shadow of a doubt that his dreams this evening would be filled with one particular face.