Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

T he curricle hurried along the Town streets, and Richard watched idly as the bricks and steeples of buildings and roads passed him by. The tiger was set to take him to one of his old favorite gentleman’s clubs, and the warm spring air was refreshing.

It was fair enough weather to ride in the open air, and it cooled the still overly heated skin of Richard’s face. He’d been distracted for the entirety of the late evening and early morning that followed, and it still clung to him now that he could not shake the thoughts that haunted him.

Of course, they remained as ever in regard to Amelia.

I traveled all this way to ensure that she would not sully our reputations, and lo, I am carried away to a gentleman’s club seeking reprieve from the way the woman vexes me so .

Vex was not precisely the word to use, he was forced to admit to himself, and Richard knew this escape would be but a temporary reprieve. But he was still not of a mind to acknowledge—even to himself—his true feelings surrounding his wife, at least, not in so many words, because Richard was too aware of how his body and spirit reacted whenever Amelia was in his presence.

A spell. A fairy’s wicked magic. It’s the only explanation for it all.

In truth, Richard could not bring himself to believe his wife was a witch or immortal heretic. The notion was indeed preposterous. But the manner in which her very presence had ensorcelled him was alarmingly profound. Each moment he was in her presence, Richard was rendered a lustful heathen, unable to keep himself from touching her, enjoying her.

The trousers he wore tightened around his waist, the sealed fall at the front straining as the memory of his evening with Amelia consumed his mind. Her voluptuous body had yielded so beautifully to him, and the taste of her lips and flesh still lingered on his tongue. He could feel her wrapped around him, the slick warmth gripping his length until he utterly lost himself to her.

Richard released a strangled groan and forced himself out of his head, clearing his throat as he adjusted in the seat. The hat he held clutched in his lap was sure to be marred with the indent of his fingertips for the way he squeezed the wool.

What is wrong with me? I’m likely to destroy one of my best beavers for the agitation gnawing at me. How in blazes have I become this enamored buck so readily?

The clopping of the horse’s hooves adjusted to a disjointed pace that slowed to a gentle stop as the curricle pulled up in front of the gentleman’s club. It took only a moment for the tiger to secure the space and allow Richard to disembark from the vehicle, offering a hand as he stepped down.

He trod on the uneven cobbles, proceeding directly to the front entrance of the club, knowing well that Frederick would be inside waiting for him. Richard was most in need of a respite this evening, and a dram or several with his oldest friend would certainly perform the task admirably.

St. James was crowded with the arrival of several more men of status, and the booming conversations contained within could be heard escaping onto the street from all three of the clubs that resided there. White’s, Richard’s destination, was as lively as ever, and his stomach rumbled for the delicious entrees he would soon enjoy inside.

Perhaps a good bit of food will improve my mood, at least a touch.

The breeze picked up at Richard’s back, a silent encouragement to get moving, and on the wind, he could smell the subtle metallic scent of rain to come. Spring storms were prevalent this time of year, and for a moment, Richard regretted leaving his heavier coat and umbrella behind for the evening.

Upon approaching the door, Richard was offered a stoic nod from the gentleman who stood ready to greet those arriving. The man recognized him and allowed Richard entry as a lifelong member of White’s, the status granted to him by his father’s previous membership here and his before him. The proud columns at the front of the building were still quite a sight, and the overlarge lanterns on either side of the door crackled loudly as the fire burned behind the soot-caked glass.

Boisterous shouting sounded the moment Richard stepped inside, and he tracked his eyes across the crowded room toward the groupings of tables set near the far wall. Several gentlemen took their turns about betting in the area, and the culprit table of the raucous cries was filled with a squadron of young men cheering over a game of hazard.

Richard shook his head, rolling his eyes fully around at the group playing and proceeded to the dining area to the other side to find Frederick. A server was quickly upon him as he approached the adjoining room, and Richard was directed to the table where his friend sat expectantly.

The ever-present din of conversation followed Richard wherever he stepped, and he surveyed the space with nostalgia as he recognized the lofty domed ceiling dripping with several chandeliers and the faint, sunny green shade of the walls. A fire crackled loudly in the massive, ornate fireplace, and a performer entertained the crowd with varying renditions of popular tunes on a pianoforte.

“There is our most-anticipated Duke. Come! Sit down, sit down.”

Frederick offered his customary grin, and Richard was ushered to his seat at the same table. The attendant took the request for his drink, and Richard sighed long as he was at last left to discuss matters of the week with his friend.

“Lord Emerton, I am grateful for your company and glad to be seeing you out of doors and away from Heartwick.”

With a scoff, Frederick sipped at his punch, his cheeks already pinkened by the heady mixture of alcohols it contained.

“We are hardly taking in the fresh air, Blackford.” Frederick gestured around their tables, the air thick with the fragrances customary of a party. “But it has been some time since you’ve joined me for an evening at White’s. Certainly, your distress is terrific should you require a night spent amongst your ‘loose in the haft’ companion.”

It was Richard’s turn at scoffing, and he shook his head vigorously as he tipped back with a laugh. Collecting himself, the Duke’s wine was delivered, and he regarded Frederick once more.

“I have never once taken to calling you loose in any regard or confirmed the suspicions of your rakish behavior to anyone.” He raised his brows at him. “Though the matters of my own mind are an entirely different matter.”

The two men laughed, the flowing cups beginning to alleviate some of the tension that clung to Richard’s shoulders.

“You offer a bag of moonshine to me at no end, Richard. I know well how you think of me, and I, your dearest friend. Ugh.”

Richard lifted a hand to his chest, ducking his head toward Frederick as he presented his glass with the other hand.

“You are my dearest and oldest friend, Freddie, and it is as such that I know precisely how to think of you. You’d have your Roger down Drury Lane Vestal this very evening were it not for my dragging you to White’s.”

He laughed, clapping his hand down on his leg before Frederick polished off the remaining liquid of his Regent’s Punch. The Marquess’s favorite concoction and, of course, the country’s fair leader’s.

“You chawbacon! Away far too long at Blackford for your own good graces. The blasted nerves on you are clearly made of steel alone!”

It was the way between them, ribbing each other to no end, or at least none so quickly. This would carry on for at least half the evening. Still, today, Richard’s mind was pulled in the direction of Heartwick and the devious minx who presently resided in it.

“Apologies, Freddie.” Richard lowered his head, the corners of his mouth turning down before he took another sip of wine. “I haven’t it in me today to put up the proper defense. You must excuse me.”

Frederick’s brows pinched together as he regarded Richard. As his friend studied him, making the Duke feel overly similar to a pinned beetle on display, Richard shifted in his chair. Amelia was blocks away, and still, he could sense her, his thoughts as clouded as ever thanks to her unspoken hex.

“Well, that is certainly the change. What lingers on your mind so heavily that you cannot so much as muster a proper attack?”

Dread made Richard’s skin itch, and he considered letting go of the topic with Frederick. Was it indeed in his interest to let loose the words of his dilemma? It was unclear if Frederick would have much to offer in the way of advice, the unmarried dandy that he was.

And yet, it was the entire purpose of this requested visit. If Richard did not confide in his one and only friend, to whom would he turn for unbiased thoughts on the matter?

“The precarious situation with the Duchess is still plaguing me, I fear. It grows more complex with each moment. Further, I know so little of the woman’s past or her dealing while I have resided at Blackford these long years. Surely, you, of anyone that I can trust, must have something to offer me.”

His brows rose toward his hairline, and Frederick leaned back into his chair. Another call out from the gambling room echoed through the busy space, and Richard was surprised at himself for not being curious in the slightest as to what the stakes might be.

“You’re asking for information regarding the Duchess. And why, pray tell, have you not simply brought the matter up with her? She is your wife and, as such, would certainly give you the details you require, would she not?”

Richard sighed, the weight on his shoulders pulling down all the more. “Amelia and I are at odds. You understand this to an extent, Frederick. I expressly stated to you that I wished to unseat a fraction of her control over Heartwick with the hiring of a new steward.”

“I am also aware of how dreadfully that all played out, and I remain ever remorseful for my involvement in it.”

Eyeing Frederick, Richard cocked his head. “As you should. So, do me this favor and answer my inquiries. What have you heard of the Duchess’s goings on while I have been away? About the drums and on dit regarding her affairs?”

The usual sunny countenance that Frederick presented to any and all around him faded into the background. Richard had known the man since they attended college together, and he recognized the air of seriousness that darkened his friend’s expression like a rain cloud. It was no small thing to see it now.

“Are you so interested all of a sudden after five years of never once inquiring as such?”

Richard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing up at his friend once more. “It is the time, Freddie. Please.”

With a solemn nod, Frederick adjusted in his seat, leaning across the table so that he might lower his voice and still be heard.

“Very well. Though before I utter another word, I must remind you, Richard, that these are not the opinions and beliefs of myself or certainly the ton at large. You are aware of how these ramblings scurry about town, often the words of a single speaker.”

“I understand, Freddie.” Richard nodded. “Do go on.”

A mournful expression clouded over Frederick’s objectively handsome face. “You are aware that your wife has been known to hold extravagant drums and parties. Her closest circle of friends is always in attendance. While they have been quite boisterous, there have been no grave incidents within that have called for authorities or medical intervention.

“In most, I have heard that your wife is a gracious host and the accommodations during the events are luxurious indeed. Still, there have been some words spread, particularly after this last occasion, that your wife has…been seen entertaining visitors who are not yourself.”

Richard’s stomach clamped down. He’d had his sowing of oats during his college years, and the response Amelia had to his encounter with her did not let itself to that of a practiced woman. He was also keen to take her very word for it. Amelia was atrocious at misleading him when it regarded a simple matter such as the singing at night. He could not imagine her so skilled to mislead him about her own virtue.

His jaw muscles working, Richard reached for the last dregs of his drink, sipping it down in a single gulp to soothe his nerves. It proved futile, however, and the thought that nosey socialists of the Ton were regarding Amelia as such, imprinting it in the scandal sheets as they had, boiled his blood to disastrous effect.

“You will not speak words of her infidelity again, Frederick. I will never hear so much as a whisper against her virtue from your lips from this moment forward. I am quite clear?”

His tone was severe—a dark growl put forth with no ceremony or restraint—and his words short. Richard’s dear friend looked upon him like he’d taken up barking irons and leveled them at his brow.

“Of course, Richard.” He dropped his head as he leveled the Duke with a stoic glance. “As I have said, these were not my opinions of the lady. You have asked what I have heard, and I have merely presented it to you.”

Tension still crowded their space, and Richard leaned back in his seat, his eyes finding the expanse of white embroidered cloth that covered the table between them.

“I am grateful for your honesty, Frederick. I trust that you will continue to discredit such rumors should you come across them.”

“Of course, dear friend.”

Silence spread between them, and Richard could only muster a slight measure of guilt for addressing Frederick so harshly. He was forced to remind himself that, indeed, these were not the man’s beliefs. His friend had done asked, delivering what he knew of the situation with his wife plainly so that Richard could understand for himself.

An attendant returned to refresh their cups, and Frederick suggested they adjourn from the dining area to take in a game of cards. Richard was up for such a distraction and nodded, following after the Marquess as he led them to a table with openings.

Richard’s mind would not be silenced, however.

She has not been with another.

Assuredly, Amelia had been untouched when he claimed her the previous evening. He was entirely confident of the fact, and yet it still bothered him that Frederick had heard the opposite. A woman involving herself in extramarital affairs was a horrendous consequence to her reputation. Those sheets would land his wife in the rough, which he would not allow.

And in that moment, it struck Richard that he was not solely concerned with how the tarnishing of Amelia’s reputation might affect himself or his holdings. He did not wish for his wife to be depicted as such because he was sure of her honor and the damage to her spirit the words would do. Amelia would be so crushed by the terrible misgivings spread about her and the resulting action of those words as she attempted to carry on with her day in Town.

He…cared.

Dammit.