Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

AUGUSTA

D inner is a far more boring affair than I had hoped. But then, after the interlude with Portswell, I cannot be blamed for finding conversation about crops and fields to be all that inspiring. Every so often, I slide my gaze over to him and marvel at what a catch I have.

Even though I don't particularly find the current topics arousing, he's animated as he eats. Conversations fly back and forth between the dukes, but the women seem far more content to pick at their food and eat like little birds than to talk. Is this what it will be like as a new duchess?

A sigh flits from my lips as I look toward the head of the table, sorrow lancing through me for a moment at my brother's absence. Surely, he knows and will come back in time. Yes? He can't be so angry at us so as to stay away out of spite.

"Your mind seems far away," Madam Foxford inquires. "Is there something in particular that bothers you?"

"No doubt it's the coming nuptials," Madam Birchleigh teases. "I remember you telling me how difficult it was for you to plan a wedding in so short of time."

"Yours was a quick engagement as well? How intriguing."

"Not really," her husband Foxford cuts in. "She was at the end of a nefarious plot, and I swooped in to rescue her. Simple as that."

She glares at him for a moment, setting her silverware down. "Rescued me? I seem to recall it being a bit different than that."

His eyes darken as he smiles over at her, reminding me of Portswell when he's overcome with angry desire for me. Fascinating. Perhaps I'll learn more from their interactions than I ever did from the common men I hobnobbed with.

"And I recall you being a recalcitrant miss who didn't want to wed in the first place."

"Not when the prospective groom was being such an ogre."

He turns to the rest of us, his hand on his heart. "Am I really such a beast?"

"Yes," the men all chime in, hiding their smiles in their cups or food.

"A plot against you. I dare say that sounds all rather terrifying."

"I shall have to regale you with the tale, but perhaps at a later date. That is, if you would have me in your home after your nuptials?"

"Of course," I cry out, joy flooding my heart at the eager faces smiling at me. "I would be honored to have such a fine friend."

"And me too, of course," Madam Birchleigh chimes in, her smile just as blinding.

Off to the side, the Madam Blackport gives a soft, almost shy grin. "It would be an honor for me as well."

"There now," Portswell beams. "My bride-to-be and my friends coming together."

"Hear Hear," they all shout, their faces beaming with what I can only assume is pride, love, and happiness.

It's humbling, really, to go from knowing nearly no one, and preferring it that way, to having more friends than I know what to do with. My heart flutters as I glance up at Portswell, taking in his easy grin and relaxed manner. It's the most at ease I've seen him in a while.

As we all finish up, the men stand and start making plans for what they plan to do for the evening. The Madams Foxford and Birchleigh smile at me, their grins far wider than expected. I know this look. I wear this look often enough to recognize it in another.

Mischief. Pure and simple.

My gut churns as the butterflies race around my ribcage once more. Could it be that these prim and proper ladies actually know how to have a bit of fun?

"Fear not, gentle husbands," Madam Foxford proclaims, sliding next to me and threading her arm through mine. "We shall keep the bride-to-be occupied and in merry spirits while you celebrate the upcoming nuptials with the good Duke of Portswell."

Foxford narrows his eyes at us and crosses his arms. "Why am I reluctant to leave now? What mischief do you have up your silken sleeves?"

"Why, Your Grace?" she calls out, her eyes widening a touch. "Whatever do you imply? We simply wish to know the dear who is about to enter into our fold."

Again, he glowers down at the woman, sending a thrum of apprehension up my spine. He doesn't look happy. I'm not sure what it is between them that causes such vexation, but I'm torn. Part of me wants nothing to do with it.

Unfortunately, the part that gets a thrill from mischief wants to wade into the deep end and swim with the best of them. Across the room, Foxford cracks his knuckles, his eyes darkening just like Portswell when he's about to inflict some deviant punishment on me.

"You will do well to heed my words, wife. Tonight is to be a quiet night at home. Understood?"

"Of course, my dear husband. I have nothing else planned at the moment. We shall take a dessert, perhaps play some whist?"

Portswell groans and runs his hand over his face. "Careful playing with Miss Hunt. She will take you for everything you own."

"Then it's settled," she claps, her face lighting up. "She will be our tutor in the game. Have you a deck handy?"

I look over at Portswell, my shoulders slumping a touch. "I-"

"She has. Just give her a moment to fetch them. They are special to her, and she's asked me to tuck them away for safekeeping when they're not in use."

The others in the room seem to believe this farce, allowing me to breathe a bit easier. It won't do any good to have them think I was punished already and not yet a wife. When he leaves the room, the others mill about, mostly talking to each other, but the women start to crowd in on me.

"Do you think it unseemly for us to descend on you en masse like this," Madam Blackport murmurs, her gaze refusing to meet mine. Out of the four women present, she seems to be the most ill at ease around the group.

"Stuff and nonsense," Madam Foxford cries, again, linking arms with me. "It is a boon to become allies with the wives of your husband's friends. It just makes sense. Besides, I'm sure a bride-to-be has much to talk about before the wedding. You know, last-minute jitters and such."

"I see," she murmurs, dropping her head. "It is to be that sort of conversation."

"What sort-"

"I have them, my darling," Portswell cuts in, handing me the deck. As I go to reach for them, he yanks them back. "Remember, when tonight is over, I shall once more keep them safe. Please deliver them to your aunt to hold for me."

The smug look on his face drives me to distraction. How I long to fight back, to tell him exactly where he can shove my deck of cards. I just don't wish to be perceived as a harridan amongst the others. Not until I know for sure they're more like me and less like the stuffy nobility I'm used to interacting with.

"Be assured, Your Grace," Madam Foxford giggles, dipping down into a low curtsy. "The cards will be returned anon. We only wish to play a bit while you do whatever it is men do in the dark."

"Teresa," Foxford growls, the sound akin to a warning.

She turns and flashes him a smile. "And here I thought you mellowed a bit after our nuptials. I see you're just as gruff as ever. Whatever will our new arrival think of you?"

Portswell steps in, an odd expression on his face. "Trust me, Madam, Miss Hunt is very much aware of what type of man she is soon to wed. She is well accustomed to Alphas such as your husband."

"Oh…" She looks over at me, her eyes widening even more. "Oh, I see. Your clarity is much appreciated, Sir. I shall endeavor to keep our celebrations chaste and circumspect."

"See that you do. I would so hate to have tomorrow's joy impeded by unnecessary ailments."

My face burns hot as the women look over at me, their expressions morphing into ones of glee. How can they be so excited when my fiancé has just told them all he punishes me? The only consolation I have is that the others don't seem all that concerned by his veiled communications.

Does this mean we are all alike in our afflictions? Curiouser things have happened. Taking the deck of cards, I hold them close to my chest, happiness welling up at having them in my possession once more.

"Remember. After tonight, they go back into safe keeping. I do not wish for anything to happen to them."

Aunt Amelia beams at him as if he's some grand savior. "That is so very kind of you, Your Grace. They shall be in my possession come tomorrow. They certainly are a precious heirloom." Tears dot her eyes as she runs her fingers over the deck.

In all my need to explore my freedom, I never once thought of what they meant to her. They were, after all, her younger brother's before he became my father. It isn't right of me to be so frivolous with them. No matter what happens tonight, they will be safe with my aunt come morning.

Perhaps my new friends can help me procure a deck of my own without my watchdog knowing. It's far too soon to tell if they'll be on my side in this matter. Knowing they have a penchant for punishment as I do, means they are no stranger to bending the rules on occasion.

"My dear husband," Madam Birchleigh calls out as the men head to the door.

"Yes, dear wife?" he grins, his eyes sparkling with some unknown mischief.

"What shall be our limit? If Miss Hunt is as skilled as His Grace says, I must be prepared to lose."

The men groan in a collective unit as Portswell turns to them with a large smile. "What say you, gentleman? A thousand pounds?"

The look they give him would be comical if I were not already so anxious about the evening. Clearing my throat, I curtsy to them. "‘Twould be unseemly to have you part with your coin when we are so newly acquainted. I propose playing with no stakes?"

Again, Portswell smiles and shakes his head. "Their honor would not hear of it."

"But a thousand pounds," I whisper, my head pounding at the very thought.

"Yes. I've seen your skill and have no doubt you will be victorious."

"So specific a sum, don't you say, Portswell," Blackport pipes up, crossing his arms.

"Indeed? I merely called out a good, round figure. Besides, it's not as if you lot aren't good for it."

Apprehension drips down my spine as I tug on Portswell's sleeve. "It's so very much. Perhaps a smaller sum would be-"

"I have faith you will bring the money into our coffers. Such a delightful wedding present to me, don't you think?"

The ladies circle around, their eyes narrowing. "Forsooth, Your Grace," Madam Foxford pipes up. "As your betrothed, it should be her receiving the gift. If she wins, I feel it should be considered part of your esteem to her."

"Teresa," Foxford growls again.

"No, no. She has it right. However, since her brother is absent, I'm willing to consider all winnings a part of her dowry. Is that fair?"

She crosses her arms, earning an exasperated sigh and stern gasp from her husband. "Fair? Hardly. Acceptable? I suppose it must. We shall do our best to keep our own coffers lined and not add to yours."

Portswell chuckles as he bows. "I cannot wait to return and see the result."

The dukes file out of the dining room, each one leveling a stern glare at their wives. Cynthia stands off to the side, doing her best to smother a smile. Seeing as she has no husband to chastise her, it's as if she's free to do almost anything she wants.

However, as Norhaven follows his brother Whiteport, he inclines his head toward her. "Do well to remember your family's honor. Your father will be heartbroken if he hears of any mischief occurring."

"And you?" she hedges, keeping her tone soft. "Will you be heartbroken?"

He straightens his shoulders and looks over at his brother who gives him a quizzical look. "It is not up to me to be heartbroken or not. I just know the triplets will be devastated if deprived of your company."

With that, they exit, leaving just the ladies in the dining room. Off to the side, Aunt Amelia looks at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

"Oh," I cry out. "Let us retire to the drawing room."

Her smile is dazzling, assuring me I have spoken correctly. If only I had actually paid attention when my mother tried to teach me these things. Granted, I never thought I'd be saddled with a duke. Nothing could have prepared me for that.