Page 42 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“Adam,” Nicholas said as he was shown into the dining room.
His wife, a pale lady with red hair and freckles that reminded Adam of Emmeline, rose to her feet immediately.
“This is my friend, the Duke of Kant,” Nicholas said with an absent wave of his hand. “No need to stand on ceremony with him, my dear. Our families have been thick as thieves for years.”
Still, the new Viscountess dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said in a low, melodic voice that didn’t entirely conceal her shyness. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to our home.”
Nicholas spared her a brief glance of irritation, as though the reminder that she considered it ‘their’ home rankled. Adam couldn’t help the thought that he had once felt the same way about Emmeline. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure when he had changed his mind. If, indeed, he even truly had.
All he knew was that he was not the one resenting her for her presence in his life. Rather, he suspected it was the opposite.
Although he really did wish she would listen to him and accept that he had her best wishes at heart, even if their marriage had not begun on the best of footings.
“Sit,” Nicholas said, waving a hand to an empty chair. “Why have you come? Bored of domestic life already?”
“I’m on my way to London.” Adam took a seat and accepted the plate a footman placed before him. “Thought I would drop by on my way. Hope it’s not too inconvenient.”
“Nonsense. Will you be staying the night? I’ll have a room prepared for you.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas nodded to one of the servants, who left the room discreetly. “What brings you to London? And without your wife? I wanted to meet her. When I last visited, I saw no evidence you had married at all.”
Adam thought of his friend’s reaction if he had arrived during the era of the terrible curtains and suppressed a smile. “She has been adjusting to life. I didn’t want to uproot her.”
“A mistake,” Nicholas said. “Ladies love to live in London, don’t they, my dear?” He tossed the question to his wife a little lazily, but her eyes lit up at the attention.
“I suppose it depends where their husbands are. If they are in London, then I am sure their wives would want to be, too.”
Nicholas turned his laughing eyes to Adam. “Is that so? Will your wife pine for you?”
“I doubt it,” Adam said shortly. “We have not long been married and did not know each other well before that. Will you be going to London?”
They spent the remainder of the meal engaging in idle conversation, before the young Viscountess rose to retire to her chambers. When at home, it was a custom Adam rarely adhered to, but it appeared that their marriage was not one born of familiarity or affection.
“So,” Nicholas said the moment she left the room. “I gather you arrived to speak to me about something important?”
“As it happens, I did.” Adam leaned forward. “Can you please run me through what happened the very last time you saw my brother alive?”
ChapterThirteen
Emmeline had never been so angry in her life. To think that her husband, the proper, the oh-so-righteous Duke of Kant, had the gall, theaudacityto do the things he had done and then leave. It was utterly unacceptable. The outside of enough.
She was furious.
For two full days, she stormed about the house in her anger. Never scaring the servants—they could guess at the source of her irritation, but they would never know for certain—but making her displeasure known.
When he came back, she would never allow him to touch her again. For him to flee?—
Oh, it was humiliating.
The worst part was that he had opened her eyes to what could be between them if only he had the conviction to allow it to happen.
If only he would give in to his carnal desires.
As it was, she was left to languish in his home while he gallivanted about the country by himself.
“He went to London?” she asked the groom.
