Chapter 6

Chapter Six

" I 'm getting married," Hadrian told his father as he filled his plate at the sideboard the next morning. He had gotten up early to do so, having foregone going out to one of his usual haunts last night after he had left Lilly's. It hadn't felt right, somehow.

"What?" the duke managed to choke out. "It has only been a week."

"Lady Lilliana has agreed to become my bride," he said, relishing the look of surprise on the old man's face.

"She's too old," his father objected, giving him a suspicious look. "Why on earth would you want an old maid like her when you could have your pick of the season's most beautiful belles?"

His father's disparaging words about his future bride infuriated him as much as her mother's had. "You demanded I pick someone, and I have done so. Lady Lilliana is absolutely lovely, and I am certain she will be a good partner to me."

As he defended her, the memory of their spontaneous kiss from the night before lingered in his mind, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He couldn't explain why he had kissed her, but it had been surprisingly delightful.

His father's frown deepened as he considered the potential match. Lilly came from an esteemed family, even though her father's passing had left her in financial difficulty. Her pedigree was top-notch, making her a suitable candidate as the future mother of his heirs.

"Fine," his father finally grumbled, "we will present it as a love match and get everything settled quickly to silence those pesky rumors started by the Brazen Belle. I will have my solicitor handle the contract."

"There needs to be a provision for her mother to be modestly provided for in London. Lilliana does not want her at Autumnwood Hall."

"The countess is a horrible woman," the earl agreed with a shudder. "I do not blame the gel. Did she make any other demands?"

"Just... visit me sometimes. Don't leave me all alone in the country for the rest of my life."

That sweet, heartfelt plea still had the power to slay him, but he certainly could not mention that part of their arrangement without giving away the whole plan.

"No," he answered. "Just that."

The earl's frown deepened, but he did not say anything more.

"I have one of my own, though," Hadrian found himself saying. "Make sure she is protected if anything should happen to me. I do not want her to ever want for anything again."

His father gave a short nod. "I will have something drawn up, and you can take a look at it before I send it over to the solicitor."

"Thank you," Hadrian replied, still a bit shocked that he appeared to be getting one over on the old man. Lord knows he had never managed to do so before.

"Was there something else?" his father asked, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

"No," Hadrian answered, unable to contain a small smile. "Just let me know when and where to show up for the ceremony."

Satisfied that he had done his duty, or at least a version of it that worked for him, he left the dining room, whistling beneath his breath.

Later that evening, Hadrian went to one of London's most outrageous gaming hells with a few friends. The night started well, with copious amounts of alcohol and laughter, but after an hour or so, sitting at a vingt un table with others of his ilk, he found himself strangely morose. For the first time, he looked around him and did not see his peers having a good time; instead, he saw a bunch of wastrels throwing their lives away.

He had spent so many nights in places like this, drinking and smoking, until the details blurred and the alcohol stole his memories of whatever fun he'd had. Mornings had become unbearable, as he nearly always woke with a pounding headache and his mouth filled with cotton. It took hours to recover. So, why did he do it all over again night after night? How fun could it be if he could not remember any of the details? And why was he having these thoughts now when he had finally managed to ensure he could continue doing what he had been doing for the rest of his life?

Hadrian's thoughts were cloudy as the cards were dealt before him. The smoke-filled room seemed to close in on him, and the raucous laughter grated on his nerves. He could not shake the unease that had settled in his stomach like a lead weight.

As he glanced at his cards, the numbers blurred before his eyes. The familiar thrill of gambling had lost its appeal tonight. The Brazen Belle's piercing words echoed in his mind, cutting through the haze of alcohol and frivolity.

Was he truly wasting his life pursuing fleeting pleasures? A sudden wave of self-doubt washed over him, and he found himself longing for a sense of purpose beyond the confines of the gaming hell.

With a heavy sigh, Hadrian pushed back from the table, much to the surprise of his companions. Ignoring their protests and questioning glances, he rose to his feet.

"Where are you going?" his friend Somerville asked in surprise. "The night is still young."

Hadrian glanced around the dimly lit room, a sense of urgency building within him. He had to get out of here.

"I'm not feeling well," he told Somerville.

"But our night is all planned out," Somerville protested. "I've arranged for you to meet an exquisite dark-haired beauty. I am sure she will help get your mind off Eva."

"Another time," he said, striding purposefully toward the exit, leaving behind the noise and suffocating smoke-filled atmosphere.

Normally, he would have ended the night in one of his favorite brothels or perhaps the bed of his latest paramour, but Eva was obviously through with him. Somerville was wrong though. Eva was not the one he needed help getting over. In fact, he had barely thought of her since she had thrown him out.

No, it was that kiss he had shared with Lilly that he couldn't get out of his head.

What am I doing with my life? The thought struck him like lightning as he neared his father's townhouse. He had spent so much time and energy trying to defy his father's wishes and rebel against his expectations that he hadn't really stopped to question if this was truly what he wanted.

He breathed deeply of the coal-smoke-scented night air as he strode down the cobblestone street, suddenly wishing he was at Autumnwood Hall, where the air was always fresh and clean. It had been far too long since he had been back there.

The memory of his brother's tragic death resurfaced, bringing with it a wave of guilt and remorse. His father's words echoed in his mind—that it should have been him instead.

His choices had weighed so heavily on his shoulders during the last few years, but instead of changing course, he found himself leaning into his vices more fiercely than ever before. It was almost as if he was determined to prove his father and everyone who had ever looked down on him for his reckless lifestyle right.

Perhaps the time he had spent with Lilly lately had reminded him of who he used to be before George's death. The young man who'd had his whole life in front of him and wasn't beholden to an ancient family lineage and duty. He had thought he might become a military man and travel the world. Develop his interest in horse breeding or architecture. The future had seemed full of possibilities, and then, overnight, all those doors had closed.

For the first time, he wondered if there might be some place for him in between being his father's lapdog and outright rebellion.