Page 51 of My Demanding Duke

The realisation struck him like a physical blow; his yearning a name. Love.

"You keep secrets," she continued, unaware of his inner tumult. "About my father. About Gravesend. Aboutyourself. How can I believe anything you say when you hide so much?"

"Anna—"

But she was already moving toward the door, her skirts swishing with her haste. "Please excuse me, your Grace. I have some urgent engagements this morning."

She left before he could form a response, the door closing firmly behind her.

Hugh sank into his chair, the food before him forgotten. The weight of his many foolish choices pressed down upon him. Every misstep had brought him to this moment—alone, aching, and afraid that Anna was forever lost to him.

With a muttered curse, he pushed away from the table and strode from the room. He needed to clear his head before his session at Lords.

He made for the library, where he hastily poured himself a tot of whiskey for his frayed nerves. He then retrieved his notes from his desk, shuffling through the papers absently, as he tried to recall just what would be debated in Parliament that day.

Above the mantel, Jack’s portrait stared down at him accusingly.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that," Hugh muttered to the painted face. "Not everyone has your charm with women."

The portrait offered no absolution. Perhaps his seeking absolution from a painting was the first sign of madness, Hugh thought with despair.

He hastily arranged the papers into a neat pile and called for his carriage. Only the stultifying atmosphere of The House of Lords had the power to quiet his racing mind.

After several hours spent listening to a debate on agricultural reforms, Hugh was in dire need of a drink. He made for White’s, where the familiar comfort of leather chairs, mahogany paneling, and masculine hush offered a momentary respite from his troubled thoughts.

"Falconbridge," Lord Beaufort materialised the moment the footman set down a decanter of brandy. "Do you know, you’re just the man I was hoping to see."

Hugh lifted his glass in greeting; he wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, but Bartie’s inane chatter could usually be managed with the odd nod or murmur of “I see”.

"I...," Beaufort began, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "There's a matter I thought should be brought to your attention."

Something in his tone made Hugh sit straighter. Bartie did not oft opt for gravity when given a choice.

"Go on."

"It concerns your duchess," Beaufort continued, lowering his voice. "There are rumors circulating. Whispers that she has formed anattachmentto Lord Gravesend."

Hugh's grip tightened on his glass. "What sort of attachment?"

"That they have been seen in intimate conversation. That they exchange notes." Bartie shifted uncomfortably. "That she may be contemplating an indiscretion."

"Who is saying this?" Hugh demanded, his voice dangerously quiet.

"It's all over the clubs. I believe it started with Lord Percival, who claims to have heard it from Gravesend himself."

Of course. The snake would not dare approach Hugh directly, but he would happily poison Anna's reputation among the ton. Gravesend was attempting an Old Testament approach: a reputation for a reputation.

"It's nonsense," Hugh said firmly. "My wife is beyond reproach."

"I knew as much," Bartie nodded, looking relieved that Hugh seemed disinclined to shoot the messenger. "I thought you should hear it from a friend rather than overhear it in passing. I did tell my source that Gravesend might hold a grudge against you, after all that funny-business in The Bird’s Nest."

“Perhaps you might circulate the rumour, Bartie, that I have every intention of calling the cad out,” Hugh stated, as he softly placed his empty glass upon the table.

Although he felt vindicated that his suspicion about Gravesend was correct, the victory was Pyhrric. If he had been honest with Anna—from the off—she would not have been so vulnerable to Gravesend’s manipulations.

The carriage ride home was interminable, his mind racing with possible confrontations. He would have to speak with Anna directly, warn her of the damage Gravesend wished to exact on her reputation. Would she believe him? Perhaps he should have brought Beaufort along as assurance, he thought wryly.

The house was quiet when he entered, and after a cursory check of the drawing room and parlour room, Hugh made his way upstairs.

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