Page 34 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“Just running a tad behind this morning.”
“Rexton said you left the club last night.”
Looking over her shoulder, he glared at the Greystone heir, who merely shrugged. “I went to see you after the game ended, and you weren’t about.”
“Just some business. Nothing to worry over.”
“Then prepare your plate,” the duchess insisted, “and join us at the table.”
If she wasn’t hugging them, she was stuffing food into them. Like him, she was not a stranger to hunger. The sideboard was laden with all sorts of offerings, the aromas wafting around him. Quite suddenly he realized he was famished. He refused to feel guilty because he’d left Ophelia with nothing more than creamed eggs and toast. Hadn’t she said it was what she preferred? No sense in giving her an assortment of choices when most would be discarded. Although he knew that whatever was left over here would be taken to a mission to be served to the poor.
After heaping an assortment of selections onto his plate, he took his usual chair beside the duchess. Andrew, the spare, sat across from him. The duke sat at the head of the table, with Rexton to his left, beside Drake. The chair to the duke’s right was Grace’s. It was odd to see it empty.
“Have you heard from Grace or Lovingdon?” Drake asked.
“No,” the duchess said, “and I doubt we will until they return in a fortnight, which is the way it should be.”
“They’re so disgustingly in love,” Andrew said.
“With any luck you will be as well one day,” the duke said.
“I don’t need an heir, so I’ll never marry. Drake and I are going to be bachelors until our dying days, aren’t we, Drake?” he asked.
“That’s the plan,” he admitted.
“We swore to it,” he said. At twenty-one he was young and full of himself. Drake couldn’t recall ever feeling that young. He’d always been older in experience as well as years.
“That’s a silly thing to swear to,” the duchess said. “You can’t control your hearts.”
“Your mother has the right of it there,” the duke said, smiling softly. “Love will have its way.”
In the beginning, Drake had marveled at the kindness the duke had shown his wife. He never yelled at her, never raised his fist to her, never strove to intimidate her. They discussed issues; her opinion was as important as his. For no reason at all, he plucked flowers to give to her, bought her gifts, and spent an amazing amount of time kissing her. Drake appreciated the softness that lit her eyes whenever the duke walked into a room, the sweetness of her laughter. He had no memory of his own mother’s laughter. He knew her tears, her pleading, her screams. Under the duke’s influence, it hadn’t taken him long to come to the realization that his father had been a brute. And that a man treated his wife better than he himself wanted to be treated.
A niggle of guilt regarding Ophelia pricked his conscience but he ignored it. Unlike the duchess, she didn’t treat people kindly, she didn’t engage in good works, she didn’t put others before herself. He’d caught her berating servants, knew she was easily displeased. Patience and appreciation of others were strangers to her. She cared only for her own wants, comfort, and pleasure.
She cried out in her sleep.
“So how goes business at Dodger’s?” the duchess asked, interrupting his thoughts, thank God.
“Profits are up ten percent this month,” he said, digging into his eggs Benedict. “I approved the membership of an American.”
“American?” Rexton repeated. “Good God, does Dodger know?”
“I didn’t seek his permission before making my decision, if that’s what you’re asking,” Drake said. “The American is embarrassingly wealthy, enjoys gambling now and again, and increases our profits. From what I understand, more Americans are beginning to spend their time in London as they strive to marry their daughters off to the peerage.” He gave Rexton a pointed look. “Perhaps you’ll even marry one. I hear they rather like dukes.”
“It’ll be a good many years before I’m a duke. Besides, I’m sure they will have grown bored with us by the time I’m ready to take a wife. By the by, in the future don’t invite Somerdale to join us for a private game. He trounced us rather badly.”
Conversation moved on to the orphanages. It was odd not to have Grace there inserting her opinions, sharing gossip, talking about her various plans with the ladies. Drake never realized how much he depended on her for information. She was insightful and gave him an edge when it came to little wagers regarding the various happenings in Society—who was courting whom, who was likely to marry whom. Although few had suspected she would wed the Duke of Lovingdon. The man had been an unrepentant rake, but also wise enough to fall in love with Grace.
Following breakfast, Drake took a stroll through the garden with the duchess, her hand nestled in the crook of her elbow.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“You seem troubled.”
She would notice that his mood seemed a bit off. She noticed everything, but then most thieves did. It was the key to survival. “I have a lot on my mind.”
