Page 60 of His Ruined Duchess

Hugh was inside that room. They had been together inside that room. Selina had allowed herself to be finally claimed there, and she’d dreamed of it ever since.

What am I to do? Is this some fleeting infatuation? Can I even dare to allow myself to think about ending my engagement?

The tears finally came then, and the only thing Selina could see behind her closed lids was what had always been there to haunt her—the image of Hugh’s smirk as they danced alone in the ballroom.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hugh had remained trapped in the study for every hour of the day. He wouldn’t be caught dead roaming through the halls or attending a meal after breakfast which was unfortunately demanded of him as part of preparing for the upcoming wedding. Beyond all that, though, Hugh locked himself within the dim confines of the study and would come out for nothing.

Lest he encounter Selina.

A few more days, Hugh. Only a few more days. You must hold yourself steady.

But it had been more difficult than he imagined. His mind continually returned to images of Selina as he claimed her against the bookshelves. He glanced up, staring at the exact spot. Hugh’s mind superimposed the scene they made over the empty space, drumming up the sounds she’d made for him and the way she took him so beautifully.

“Dammit.” Standing from his desk, Hugh stomped toward the small cart of liquor he always had the staff stock and poured himself several inches of whiskey into a stout glass.

He was not proud of himself for turning to the drink once more to ease his internal torture. But he could think of little else to do that might lessen the pain. Throwing back the whiskey, Hugh focused on the burn as it dripped down his throat and deep into his belly. He was a frigid pillar of frozen steel, and the firewater melted a channel down through his core.

You have ruined everything yet again, bastard that you are.

Selina had come to him for one night of passion and nothing more, and he should have turned her down. He should have been honest with her about his feelings. Hell, he should have been honest withhimselfabout them. Selina’s essence infected his soul. He thought of her every hour of the day and night, dreaming of her, fantasizing about her. Scenes of entangling himself with her, yes, but also of waking with her beside him, of finding her in the afternoon light perusing a book, of attending a ball with her on his arm, proudly displayed.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was not overly late in the evening, still just past supper, but Hugh furrowed his brow at the intrusion. He’d asked not to be disturbed, and Selina had been keeping herself away from him.

Standing, he walked to the door, opening it to find his butler. “Yes?”

“Good evening, Your Grace. A friend of yours, a Mr. McMills, has arrived at the estate to call on you. Shall I show him to the drawing room?”

Jonah was here? It was quite likely the man could sense Hugh’s destructive mood even from across town at his solicitor’s office. Sighing, the Duke shook his head, giving the butler a polite smile.

“No, please show him here to the study. Thank you.”

After Hugh shut the door, he proceeded to the whiskey once more, pouring Jonah a glass so that he might join him in drowning his misery. It didn’t take long for the butler to show him back, and then the two of them were left in the study together to converse.

“Hugh, you’re looking…” Jonah regarded him, his steely gray eyes swimming up the length of Hugh’s entire form before settling once again on his face. “… quite awful, actually. Are you well?”

Hugh couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that erupted from him. Jonah was well known in all his social circles for having the sense of humor of a wet cloth which proved to be especially hilarious to watch. Still, Hugh didn’t appreciate the very keen observation his solicitor provided.

“That,” Hugh started, walking up to Jonah and depositing the fresh glass of whiskey into his grip, “is very astute of you. Still, I hardly wish to discuss it. What brings you here?”

Jonah looked over the whiskey appraisingly, but after a moment, he brought it with him to the small chair that sat before Hugh’s desk. He sat down, taking a sip and then looking up toward the Duke again.

“My closest friend is hosting a wedding reception for his charge at the estate. The same Dowager that he has spoken of soferventlybefore, and I assumed that he might require an ear. I have known you for too long, Hugh. You cannot hide your distress from me.”

Hugh’s shoulders slumped as he forced himself to take in another gulp of whiskey. He didn’t meet Jonah’s eyes, staring at the floorboards beneath his feet. After a time, he let out a long breath and took a seat on the edge of his desk in front of Jonah. When he glanced at his friend again, that knowing look still graced his face, and Hugh rolled his eyes despite himself.

“There is nothing to be done for it, Jonah. I see little reason to discuss this now. Unless, of course, hearing of my misery brings you immense joy.”

Jonah scoffed, finishing a sip of his whiskey which he then set down on the floor near the leg of his chair. Meeting Hugh’s stare firmly, Jonah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“It does not, old friend.” Reaching out to pat Hugh’s arm, Jonah offered a sympathetic grin. “Go on then. Tell me what vexes you so.”

Discomfort filled Hugh to the brim. He didn’t know how to discuss all this, having never been particularly good at expressing his emotions or anything else for that matter. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hugh dropped his head, racking his mind for what to say.

“I have ruined something that had the potential to be quite nice, Jonah. I have destroyed another avenue of happiness presented to me because I am a damned fool.”

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