Page 54 of Five Nights with a Rakish Duke
“Why?”
“I told you before,” Asher said, breaking off sharply and looking away. “I will not be like my father. I will not go down the road he went down just to end up heartbroken. Seeing him go through that was enough. I won’t suffer it myself.”
Dorian nodded though he said nothing and hardly looked convinced as he walked into the club. Asher followed behind him, his mind very much on one thing. He was thinking of the day he had come home to find his father sitting by the fireplace, not having bothered to change out of his night things despite the fact it had gone midday. In his hand was a letter written by Asher’s mother. There were tears on his father’s cheeks and screwed up handkerchiefs that suggested he had been crying for some time.
“Father? What is it?”Asher could remember asking the question as he walked into the small chamber, hurrying to his father’s side.“Has something happened?”
“That is one way of saying it,”his father had sighed and passed the letter for Asher to read.“She has gone, Asher. She has left us both.”
Asher had nearly torn the letter in two in his anger once he had read the letter. To this day, though, that letter survived. It was kept in a box at the back of his wardrobe in his chamber, far away from where anyone could find it, yet Asher knew the letter was there, and it burned within him.
His mother had abandoned them both, leaving them to heartbreak. For years, Asher had watched his father go through his grief, grief that was arguably worse than if she had been lost to death, for it was knowing the truth that she hadn’t wanted to stay with them anymore. She had chosen a new life and willingly left them both.
“I will not be my father,” Asher muttered to himself as he walked through the club. “Falling in love only leads to that grief. I shall never do it.”
* * *
“Margaret, will you please sit down?” Adam asked tiredly as she hurried to look through the windows again. “No matter how many times you look out of the window, it will not make the Duke arrive any sooner.”
“What is that phrase? A watched pot never boils,” Penelope agreed as she and Adam finished their game of cards. “You win, Adam,” she said with a smile.
“For tonight,” he conceded, gathering up the cards again. There was something in his expression that was tightened as though all was not well.
“Is something wrong?” she asked softly. “Is it the fact that…” She paused and glanced over to Margaret, checking she wasn’t listening to their conversation. Yet she was far too busy looking out of the window to be paying attention to their words. “Is it the Duke coming here tonight?”
“I can hardly care for the man after what I lost to him, can I?” Adam confessed in a whisper.
“All will be well,” Penelope said, trying to summon a smile to cheer him up. “I am sure the Duke will not discuss the matter tonight.”
“Yes, I am sure you are right,” he agreed with a nod. Penelope had no wish to discuss the matter either.
The knowledge that she had taken matters into her own hands to get her estates back still hung heavy on her chest. If she managed to complete her five nights with the Duke, and he returned her estates, Adam would no doubt question why on earth he had done so.
“There is another matter on my mind too,” Adam said quietly, leaning toward her across the table.
“What is it?” she asked with concern as she took the cards from his hand and packed them away in a small mahogany box.
“It is about what we discussed the other day.”
“What was that?” Penelope asked. Before she could ask any more, Adam’s hand closed over hers across the table. She froze, lifting her eyes back to his. There was something in his expression she had not seen before, a kind of intensity that was almost foreign to him. “A-Adam?” she stammered in surprise.
“During the promenade, do you remember what I said?” he asked softly. Penelope flinched and tried her best to remove her hand from his, feeling her stomach squirm in objection. “Penelope, please. I only want to ask if you have thought any more on what I have said?”
“I…” She paused as she finally retracted her hand from his. She supposed his hand should have felt warm on hers, at least comforting or something, yet it hadn’t. His skin was cold to the touch, and she wanted nothing more than to run across the room and put distance between them. “I need more time,” she said eventually, deciding it was best to delay him. She turned her eyes down to the card table surface, hoping it was the only answer she needed to give.
She knew she couldn’t marry him, but this was hardly the moment to reject his suggestion. That would have to wait for another time.
“Of course,” Adam accepted though she did not miss the dejected tone, nor the way he slumped back in his chair.
“He’s here!” Margaret squealed.
Penelope hurried to her feet. When Adam snapped his head up to her, looking at her with narrowed eyes, she tried to hide how animated her behavior was, yet her body seemed to betray her anyway. As Margaret hurried to the door, ready to greet the Duke of Kendall, Penelope followed with Adam hot on her heels.
As they waited in the entrance hall, the Duke eventually walked in, taking off his top hat and frock coat while the butler announced him.
“His Grace, the Duke of Kendall, My Lord,” the butler said with a bow.
Penelope looked to him with anticipation, thrilled when he looked at her before Lady Margaret.
