Duke of Debauchery by Scott Scarlett

Author:Scott, Scarlett
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Medieval
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Monty stared at the stacks of correspondence haphazardly strewn upon his desk and longed for a drink. Or some laudanum. He truly was getting itchy over it. The need was like an infection, curdling his blood. All because he had eschewed his morning ritual of a drop in his tea.

Because of Hattie.

His wife.

The memory of her questioning green eyes haunted him now, even more than the alluring promise of the laudanum he had foregone. She had wanted to know about the laudanum. Why he was taking it in his tea.

And he, heartless bastard that he was, had chased her away. They had been sharing a moment of exquisite passion. He had been jarred from sweet dreams of bedding his wife to the sound of said wife colliding with his writing desk.

Her muttered oath had made his already-hard cock even more rigid and ready for her. Teasing her had been too tempting to resist. There were words he might say under the guise of sleep which he would not have dared—debauched though he was—to utter to a lady.

He had been testing her, it was true. And she had passed. His Hattie was a wanton. She had been nettled by his morning—er, afternoon—torpor. He was not accustomed to having to answer to anyone. He was the Duke of bloody Montrose. The master of his household. He did as he pleased.

He told himself that was the reason for his curt words to Hattie earlier and not the intense desire to protect his laudanum consumption. And then he told himself he was a worthless, damned liar.

Everything he had said to her, every cutting word, had been a direct result of the need to continue on with his opium. The opium calmed him better than gin. It also brought him a more delicious level of oblivion. It enabled him to sleep through the night. Even better, Hattie could not smell it on his breath.

It had been her previous words to him concerning the spirits on his lips that had led him to decrease his reliance upon swizzle. He had no wish to die of barrel fever, after all. Especially now that he had undertaken the responsibility of a wife.

A decrease in gin, however, had seen an increase in laudanum. Particularly at night. After he had made love to Hattie, he had waited until she had fallen into a peaceful sleep. And then he had returned to his own chamber.

Just a drop, he had reassured himself. Only to help him sleep. If he was slumbering soundly, he had reasoned, he could not wake her with his nightmares. But one drop had turned into two, and finally oblivion had claimed him. As always, he had not wanted to wake this morning. Indeed, he had slept soundly, the sleep of the dead, until dawn. At which point, he had promptly taken himself in hand to thoughts of his beautiful wife, too sluggish to get out of his bed and find her in her chamber, before falling asleep once more.

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