Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

H e had his arms around her waist.

Thomas threw back a brandy and signaled for another one. After watching Frances parade around the garden party like a bee flitting from one flower to the next, he had to get out of there.

There were too many people at the club in London who would try to strike up a conversation with him, and he was in no mood to put on airs. He needed a space where he could drop the pretenses of Duke and just be Thomas. It was how he ended up at a tavern a street down from his old store.

He kept replaying her every move in his head. The way she laughed with that Benson boy, how her hand captured Gloushire's when he was swatting at air. The way the bastard wrapped his arms around her then proceeded to keep her arm tucked in at his side. And she let him.

He downed the next drink, relishing in the burn as the liquid settled in his belly.

"You might want to slow down. It's unbecoming for a duke to show such slovenly behavior. What would the ton say?"

A smile crept along Thomas' face. "I'm sure it's nothing they aren't already saying."

Thomas leaned back from his hunched position as one of his oldest friends occupied the barstool next to him.

Jonathan Spike grew up with Thomas, and together, they had been through everything two friends could go through. When they were twelve, he was the one who dared Thomas to steal his father's ale which they drank until they got sick in the alleyway behind the store. They chased girls together, they had each other's backs when the Michaelson twins needed to be put in their place; Jonathan was there through it all. He was there when Thomas' mother died, his father died, and then his aunt. He was the first one to toast him as Duke Pilton.

"Ah, come now, I'm sure it's not all bad. Word has it you've made quite the impression on polite society."

Thomas huffed out a laugh. "And where have you been that you know the inner thoughts of polite society?"

Jonathan leaned with his back against the bar, his elbows propped up on the bar, holding him up. "I've been around," he said with a wink.

"What rich dowager did you trick into thinking you were something of worth to dally with?"

Jonathan placed his hand over his heart. "I'm offended," he said mockingly. "I don't have to trick anyone into anything, old friend. I can't help it if all I do is show up and the women flock."

Thomas rolled his eyes.

"Now, don't keep your old friend waiting, what brings you back to the grittier side of life?" Jonathan swung his legs around to face the bar and signaled to the barkeep to bring him a brandy.

Thomas just shook his head and took a sip of brandy.

"Come now, I know you love to put on a show for others, but you can't fool me. I know there is a talkative chap under all those layers of brutish ass."

"I'm not in the mood, Jonathan. I came here for peace."

The door to the tavern opened, flooding the bar with bright white light. Two men walked in already rowdy. So much for peace and quiet.

"Well if it isn't our good ole friend Thomas Bennet?" Thomas closed his eyes in resignation. He did not need this now.

"Careful, Sean. That bloke is a Duke now. You better address him properly." The voice of his childhood nemesis slurred.

"Ah, right. What is it? Lord Pissant?" Sean Michelson said to his snickering brother.

Thomas exchanged a look with Jonathan who shook his head. Right. Don't engage.

Sean came up behind Thomas and clapped him on the back. "I'm surprised to see you here, old chap. Kicked out already? I was certain you would have charmed your way into the beds of countless ladies by now."

Thomas tightened his hand on his glass.

"Naw, Sean. You know our good friend here has the personality of the devil himself. No woman worth her salt would climb into bed with him," Sean's twin, Daniel spat.

Sean sat down on the other side of Thomas and leaned in. The stench of liquor and sweat made Thomas' stomach roll. "That's not what I heard. I heard he found himself a sweet little tart up there." Thomas' hackles rose. "But from what I was told, she is just short of being shelved which sounds about right. Only a woman who was desperate would allow him to come within a hundred yards of her."

Daniel snickered. "Maybe there's something wrong with her, eh? I mean, if she was good and proper, she wouldn't be interested in him. Maybe she's made her way around the ton, and he was just next on the conquest list."

Thomas rolled his neck, cracking it.

"Well, that sounds familiar now, doesn't it Tommy boy? Isn't that what happened with Shelby? Bet you she's kicking herself for finding something better than a shopkeeper. If she only knew that poor shopkeeper became a duke, she'd probably still be in his bed. But I hear she's doing just fine now. Tis a pity, though. She was a good lay, wasn't she Tommy?"

"I thought so," chimed Daniel.

Thomas felt Jonathan's hand clamp down on his other shoulder. Rage was starting to bubble within his core.

"That is one, among many things, you and I differ on. I like my partners to be willing participants and enjoy themselves. Not just lay there and be rutted," Thomas said. Turning to Jonathan, Thomas threw some coins down on the bar. "Jonathan, I think it's best I take my leave." Thankful the room didn't spin when he stood, he made his way to the door with Jonathan at his back.

The Michelson twins whooped in laughter. "Ah, Sean, you've gone and hurt the poor Duke's feelings."

"Yeah, I bet you're right Danny," Sean added before standing and calling out, "Go crawling back to your willing strumpet. And when she's drained your coffers, make sure you send her our way. I don't mind if they're willing or not."

Jonathan bumped into Thomas as he stopped. "It's not worth it, Thomas, just let it be."

Thomas knew better, but the thought of sweet Frances anywhere near the likes of them had him pushing Jonathan out of the way and charging Sean.

Sean's back cracked against the edge of the bar from the force of Thomas' body crashing into his. They both tumbled to the ground and rolled. Sounds of crashing glasses and splintered wood echoed throughout the bar. From the corner of his eye, Thomas could see Daniel and Jonathan exchanging blows by the door.

Thomas forgot how well the Michelson twins fought while drunk. Where most men would be hindered by the alcohol, it seemed to give the twins superhuman strength. Thomas ended up underneath Sean, who managed to get one good strike to his eye.

Thomas needed to think fast before his eye swelled and he lost his depth perception. A broken brandy bottle lay just out of reach of Thomas' hand. Sean gripped Thomas' throat, robbing him of breath.

Daniel and Jonathan's scuffle brought them closer to Thomas and the blasted bottle. Daniel's boot accidentally kicked the bottle closer to Thomas' outstretched hand. Finally making the purchase, Thomas swung the bottle up and cracked it across Sean's head. Sean fell off of Thomas, clutching his head while Thomas shook the spots from his vision.

When enough cleared, he pounced on Sean landing blow after blow. Thomas no longer saw a man beneath him but a means to an end. He would make sure there was nothing left of this degenerate, so Frances would never have to meet such filth. With each punch, years of pent-up rage coalesced in his veins and powered his punches. He didn't ask for this life, to be a young shop owner, a caregiver for his sister, a bloody duke.

He didn't feel arms lifting him off the bloody mess beneath him. He didn't hear the shouts of people trying to stop him. The only thing that controlled him now was his rage, and it felt glorious.

Jonathan dragged him out of the tavern and into the alleyway behind the bar.

Thomas heaved out breaths, his vision going blurry as he swayed. Now, in the light of day, his rage settled and returned to the dark corners where Thomas kept it. Sliding down the outside wall of the tavern, Thomas rested his head on his knees, willing the contents of his stomach to stay there.

A handkerchief was pushed into his hand. "Just like the good ole days, eh?"

Thomas looked up and smiled at Jonathan's cracked lip. The smile had him wincing in pain. He forgot about the bruise forming around his eye. It should develop into quite the shiner come tomorrow.

"Indeed."

The two sat in compatible silence while their breathing evened out.

"Although, I remember it hurting less when we were younger," Jonathan said, rubbing his shoulder. "Damn brute smashed my shoulder into the corner of the bar."

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to go soft with my new life. It sounds like you're no longer keeping up with our old ways either."

Jonathan rested his head against the brick wall. "I've been helping maintain your store. Takes more work than you led on. Thanks for lulling me into a false sense of security with that. Oh, the store runs itself. Just make sure the shelves stay stocked, and you'll be fine. " Jonathan mimicked Thomas' voice.

"If I find out you've run my store into the ground, I'll do much worse to you than I did to Sean in there."

Jonathan didn't respond. Thomas looked up from the ground and threw a questioning look at his friend.

"Who is she?"

Thomas groaned. "You think they hit a mark? There's no one." Thomas rubbed his rib. He'd have to have Simmons wrap that when he gets home. Struggling to stand, Thomas slid back down the wall. A few more moments here won't hurt.

"Bugger off with that. Those two have said worse to you in church on a Sunday, yet you went after them like a crazed gorilla. Who is she?"

Thomas closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. "Her name is Frances. She's a friend of Jenny's. Just that a friend."

Jonathan chuckled. "Ha! Ow!" He grabbed his rib. Guess Daniel hit as well as his brother.

"Serves you right."

Jonathan cocked an eyebrow. "They mentioned Shelby, and you barely batted an eye, yet you once claimed you loved her. You were heartbroken when she left you for that rich cad."

"I was not heartbroken," Thomas interjected, defensively.

Ignoring his remark Jonathan continued, "If this girl is just a friend, then she must be some friend. "

Thomas felt the warming sensation of his rage begin to embolden him. He almost forgot the pain in his ribs and hands.

Jonathan laughed, this time a bit more quietly, most likely due to the pain in his abdomen. "There he is. The dastardly duke I know. See? You have never gotten so out of sorts over a woman. Now tell me again who she is, and this time don't insult my intelligence with lying. We've been through too much for that."

Thomas considered his options. He was bigger than Jonathan, but he knew from experience Jonathan was quick. "Bloody hell," he growled. "She's a baron's daughter, and she is Jenny's friend. I didn't lie about that."

Thomas paused. How could he describe their predicament without her sounding like an all-out strumpet like the twins accused her of being?

"She's annoying."

Jonathan barked a laugh. "You think everyone is annoying."

"I don't know. She doesn't scare easily, and she looks like she should. It intrigued me." He shrugged, grimacing at the pain it caused. "The first night I saw her, I thought she was another Shelby, sniffing around Jenny as a way to get to me and what it means to be a Duchess. She caught me glowering at her, and she just… ignored me."

Jonathan sat up. "Damn. That is impressive."

"She ended up sitting next to me at dinner, and I was so annoyed at her for not being intimidated and leaving us alone. Then I found out Jenny invited her over to be Jenny's etiquette teacher of sorts."

"From the way you're speaking of her, I reckon you have benefitted from some of these lessons as well."

Thomas ignored his friend's jab at his character. "She's intelligent, proper yet quick-witted, well spoken —"

"Everything a duke looks for in a woman," Jonathan threw in. "Forgive me, but what's the problem?"

Thomas sighed. "She's too damn innocent, Jonathan. I'm set in my ways. I just want to be left alone."

"Ah. I see."

Good. Maybe now, he'll drop it.

"But you're wrong."

Thomas groaned and tried his luck at standing again. His head stopped throbbing. If he could make it to the street, he was sure he could get a hackney back to London.

Jonathan kicked Thomas' leg out from under him. Thomas landed on his ass, spewing a slew of curses. "Bloody hell, what did you do that for?"

"Because I can't stand yet, and we're having this conversation."

Thomas was too tired to argue. Plus, over the years, he had learned to let Jonathan speak his mind. He would tire himself out eventually.

"Life dealt you shite cards, and you've been alone for most of it already. You changed when your father died. Don't look at me like that. I've seen you through every stage, remember?"

Thomas tipped his head back to stare at the darkening sky.

"You were never personable, but taking on the store hardened you. And after running it for a few months, I understand why. People are horrible."

"I've been trying to tell you that for years."

Jonathan smiled. "Then came Shelby. She had us all fooled. But if it's any consolation, I heard she got the clap, and that rich chap left her."

Thomas considered that. Did that change how he felt about her? He was ready to propose to her when she left. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was devastated when she did, calling him a pathetic and lowly shopkeeper. Hearing about her downfall should've brought some sense of retribution, but he felt nothing.

"I no longer have use for her or anyone from my past."

"You wound me, old friend. Does Frances care about your past — that you are, and I mean no offense, basically a commoner?"

Thomas lifted a shoulder. "We don't talk about our pasts, much to her chagrin. But she doesn't care for the rules and opinions of the ton. She puts on airs of a delicate wallflower, but she also does what she can to skirt around the rules when people aren't looking. She's quite remarkable in that sense."

Thomas could see the devilish grin spread across his friend's face. "And what rule, pray tell, is she skirting when people aren't looking?" Jonathan's eyes widened at Thomas' silence. "You damn bastard. Tell me you stole the innocence of a wallflower!" Jonathan's laugh croaked out of him as he held his side.

"It's not like that. And no , I haven't. Although…"

"What? Do you want to?" Jonathan scooted closer to Thomas. "Tell me you are developing feelings for the girl."

"No." I don't think I am. "No," he said more resolutely. "And she propositioned me ."

Jonathan sobered immediately. "You jest. Now, I've heard it all."

"She was helping Jenny with learning how to act, dance, behave, and all that, and Jenny suggested Frances give some attention towards me, refining my character to the sparkling personality you see before you now."

Jonathan snorted. "She's clearly not spending enough time with you," he murmured.

"She approached me one evening saying she'd help soften my edges under one condition. That I help her experience all the splendors of being a…"

"Go on, don't leave me guessing." Jonathan was enjoying this way too much for Thomas' liking.

"… a woman," Thomas gritted out. For once, Jonathan was blissfully quiet. "I wanted to turn her down, but damn it, there is something about her that attracts me. It's just lust, I assure you. I'm hoping whatever is going on between us will burn itself out, and I can go back to the quiet life I wanted. Besides, if today is any indication, my work is almost done. She made quite the impression on several men at the garden party we were attending."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?" Jonathan howled when Thomas stuck a finger into his ribs and dug in.

"Hey! No need for that. Is it so wrong to want her? You're a duke for Christ's sake. You can have anyone you want."

Thomas sneered and looked around at the dirt and grime of the alley. This is where he came from, who he was at his core. They came from different worlds. He couldn't defile her in that way.

Jonathan sensed his friend's mood and clapped Thomas on the shoulder. "Right, then. We should get you back. I don't need the peerage throwing me a ball for keeping you away from London for too long. I'm in no shape to woo all those dowagers with my charm."

The two men leaned on each other and hobbled towards the main street. Once Thomas was secured in a hackney, he reached out to shake Jonathan's hand. "Thank you for having my back in the tavern."

"Always brother." He held onto Thomas' hand. "One more thing before you go."

Thomas nodded.

Dropping his hand, he stuck it in his pocket. "I'm far from the perfect man to offer romantic advice of any sort." Thomas groaned. "So, have your fun with this girl, but you know firsthand the feeling of being the one who is left behind. If it is truly lust, make sure you both know it and move on when it's time." With that, Jonathan nodded to the footman to pull away.

Thomas sank back in his seat. Of course, he would make sure Frances understood when it was time to end their affair. They had a clear agreement: he would prepare Jenny for the ball and make him more manageable around the ton in exchange for showing her the ways around the bedroom… or dining table.

He hated to admit that she was becoming a fixture not only in Jenny's life but his as well.

Thomas sat up or tried to.

Wait. Why did Jonathan say to make sure both of them knew it was just lust and to understand when it was time to move on? Was he insinuating Thomas had more feelings for Frances than he let on? That was ludicrous. Thomas was well aware of his true feelings for the girl, wasn't he?