Page 68 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“I-I don’t think so,” he said, threading his fingers through his hair. He pulled at some strands to wake up his weary brain, stillrattled from being punched by Peter the Giant about two hours ago. It had been a long day. “She seems fine.”
“Not all women are the same when they are expecting, Oliver,” Catherine said, clearly enjoying the conversation. If she only knew what was really going on.
“May I stay here for the night, Catherine?” Oliver suddenly asked.
At that moment, the glee in his sister’s eyes vanished. He was sorry that he dampened the mood, but there was no going around it.
“Oliver, something’s wrong. Do you want to talk about it?” Catherine asked, her voice softer and gentler. She had also straightened her back and focused on him.
“I am not ready to talk about it,” Oliver simply said. And that was that.
Catherine had her maids prepare a room for him, and the siblings retreated to their rooms.
The only reason Oliver fell asleep that night was because he was exhausted from the fight. Good choice, then.
The next day, sunlight streamed into Oliver’s room like an unwanted guest. He groaned as he tried to cover his eyes, but his blanket had been pulled off him. He tried to pull it back to no avail.
“Wake up, Oliver! We have an invitation to a soirée, and it’s already noontime!” his sister cried.
He was about to mutter foul words when he heard a little giggle. Oh no. George was in his room.
“Catherine, you are not playing fair. Where is your husband? Why do you have George with you?” he asked, barely keeping his temper in check as he stumbled out of bed, grateful that he was wearing breeches and a nightshirt.
“Uncle Oliva!” George called out, jumping into Oliver’s arms.
Despite his sore muscles, the Duke of Westgrave caught the future Duke of Newden in his arms with ease.
“Your uncle must bathe as soon as possible, Georgie. He needs to accompany Mummy to a party.”
George immediately left his uncle alone and ran to his mother. “Can I go?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, no, sweetheart. You will be utterly bored there. It’s all talk. No games.”
“No games?” George pouted. Then, he looked at his uncle wistfully before he left the room.
“We are expected at Lady Arthur’s house in two hours, Oliver,” Catherine declared, folding her arms over her chest as she watched her brother hold on to one of the bedposts.
“Why do you have to do that?” he groaned.
“I don’t want you wandering around my house looking like a lost puppy. I also believe that you’ll tell meexactlywhat happened between you and Alexandra.”
And that was that. It was how Oliver got himself invited into Lady Arthur’s soirée. For the first time in a long time, he was going to attend with a sour face and without his better half.
To be fair, Catherine had always been a wonderful sister. She still was. They had a reason to be at the soirée together. Her husband was away on business, and she was terribly bored. So, she invited her brother to accompany her. Meanwhile, Alexandra was supposedly indisposed. She probably was, after what happened the day before.
The Duchess of Newden also made sure to walk beside her brother and assist with answering any questions from the more curious attendees. It didn’t mean, however, that she was finished interrogating him.
“Where is Alexandra? Everyone’s asking about her. They’re looking at you with deep suspicion, Brother,” she whispered at some point while swirling her glass of sherry.
“You’re the one who thought it a grand idea to bring me here,” he whispered back, all the while plastering on a smile for everyone else.
He gripped his brandy glass in his hand and kept the server within his line of sight. He felt he needed something stronger for tonight—something that would make him survive the blatant curiosity and invasive questions of theton.
“Well, you must tell me what is happening. Did you send her back to the countryside? Have you gotten tired of having a wife and missed being at Devil’s Draw?”
“Catherine, what do you think of me?” he asked, although he did not miss the way his sister raised her eyebrows at him.
“I can help, Oliver. Whatever it is, it may be merely a misunderstanding.”
