The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) by Alexandra Ainsworth

Author:Alexandra Ainsworth [Ainsworth, Alexandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027070, FIC027190
ISBN: 9780992911515
Publisher: Sanguinity Press
Published: 2014-05-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

William already regretted venturing on his first excursion since the incident with Sebastian. He drummed his fingers against the lush leather armchair. His brandy remained on the table, taunting him, reminding him of better times. He did not feel like doing anything, even drinking. His feet sank into the thick carpet. If he ignored the pained sensation in his chest, he might claim he was comfortable.

A few men sat scattered about the club, discussing their latest jaunts across Europe, their murmurs about Parisian mistresses and gambling broken by occasional bursts of laughter.

He shifted under their gaze, recognizing some from Harrow. He tended to avoid White’s. Associating with conservative gentlemen of aristocratic origin was not how he preferred to spend his time. Even now his visit was not of his own volition. He sighed. Had his father not proved to be practically bankrupt after his death, he would have felt more at ease there. As it was, his membership to White’s, secured in happier times, endured as one of the few reminders of his father’s legacy. He picked up his drink and glided his fingers over the crystal glass. He imagined the life he never lived, the one his father had envisioned for him, where he would be at the gaming table, telling stories of cavorting with courtesans.

A shadow fell over his seat.

“You have seen better days, my dear captain.” His companion slipped into the chair opposite him.

William’s fists tightened, not quite ready for conversation. “You brought your famed charm, Reynolds.”

Lord Reynolds shrugged. “I merely do not like seeing you so distraught.”

William scowled, his hand touching his cheek, meeting the texture of stubble. The problem with maintaining exceptional grooming for years was that the moment he grew lax in his efforts, everyone commented. “I am hardly shabby looking.”

“The circles under your eyes fail to suggest liveliness. It is obvious you are unwell.”

William’s mind returned to school, where he had first met the lord. He and Reynolds frequented the racquet court, both aggressive. Reynolds still played sports, now donning exquisite clothes in typical Corinthian fashion, his wife by his side. And William was relegated to India, needing his commission to support himself and leaving his sister to fend for herself.

William’s jaw clenched. Undoubtedly Sebastian had been correct to flee from him.

And now Dorothea, the sister he loved, abhorred him.

“Penelope is anxious for the two of us to go to Somerset Hall. She writes that she is finding pleasure hunting for French spies on Sebastian’s new estate.” Reynolds’s eyes misted, his adoration obvious.

William straightened his back in spite of himself at the mention of Sebastian’s name. Surely Sebastian did not condone this activity?

“But she also is adamant,” Reynolds continued, “that she would like the two of us to join her. As well as Miss Carlisle, of course.”

William considered the offer of visiting Sebastian’s new home. For a moment he lay in Sebastian’s bed again, his legs brushing against Sebastian’s legs, his hands running across Sebastian’s chest, lingering on his nipples and the scattering of hair that surrounded them.

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