Page 79 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“I am a married woman now, Papa.”
“And where is your husband?”
“In London,” she said coolly. “But my marital situation is of no concern of yours. We married, as you wished, and I am now a duchess. Be glad that I have come back to demonstrate my clear support for this family. It will only benefit Aurelia.”
“As the sister of a duchess, she will no doubt marry well.” He waved a hand.
“That is not enough!”
He stared at her for a long while, and she knew she had won. At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and she opened it to find the sweetmeats she had ordered.
“Here,” she said, carrying the tray to his desk. “Eat these and at the very least consider the situation. Think about how you will be perceived if you are too neglectful toward your wife.” She gave him a pleading glance. “All Mama wishes for is for you to give her a little reassurance and direction. I assure you it won’t be much. Tell her a dress looks well on her, or that you like the way she has done her hair. Occasionally go to the opera with her—it will be a good opportunity to find a match for Aurelia as well, which I am certain you want.” She plucked a sweetmeat off the tray and popped it into her mouth. “It will benefit you to change your ways a little. I am not asking for the world.”
To her relief, his ire had ceased at the sight of the sweetmeats, and he gave her a long, assessing look. There was no chance that he would be in any way repentant, or sheepish, but at least she had gotten through to him in a way.
“Very well,” he said after a long moment. “I will endeavor to do as you have requested.”
“And the Almack’s vouchers? The opera box?”
“Tell your mother that whatever request she makes will, within reason, be granted.” He reached out to tug a strand of hair in an affectionate way reminiscent of her youth. “Perhaps I have been a little preoccupied with my business. You are not the first to mention it. I am not an unreasonable man. I will do my best to make changes where I see fit.” He sank back into his leather chair and steepled his fingers. “But please ask your mother not to come to me for every tiny matter that she believes requires my attention. It is tiring, especially when she is emotional.”
Some things never changed.
“Compliments,” Emmeline reminded him as she left the room. “A little kindness goes a long way.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
“Your Grace.” A hand shook Adam’s shoulder, and he groaned, turning over and attempting to shake them off.
His head pounded, and the shaft of sunlight coming through the curtains sent a spike of pain deep into his skull.
“Go away,” he muttered, attempting to shield his eyes.
From what he could tell, he was still in the chair he had been in last night. The decanter of whiskey on his desk was empty, and there was a sense of shame deep in the pit of his stomach.
“I am sorry, Adam, but your butler let me in.”
The voice was familiar but not soothing. With the hand still clapped over his face, Adam wished the voice would go away.
“Who is it?” he rasped.
“Rickard.”
The voice paused, and everything fell into place. That was why it sounded so familiar.Rickard. Yes. Of course.
“I have been a little worried about you.”
Adam risked peeling his hand from his eyes and immediately regretted it. “Worried? In what sense?”
Despite the pounding in his head, his voice was hard and crisp.
“Worried in the sense that you passed out drunk in your chair,” Rickard said, and although he was as deferential as usual, there was a drop of sardonic amusement in his voice. “I think that gives me cause, don’t you?”
“I think you are sticking your nose where it does not belong.”
“Of course you do,” he said mildly.
“And I think you should leave before I command one of the footmen to throw you out.”
