Page 80 of His Unwanted Duchess

The carriage jerked to a halt, jolting him out of his reverie.

I need to talk to Theo,Stephen decided, with miserable certainty.

He climbed down from the carriage and headed inside.

“I’m expected,” he said casually to the butler at the door.

The man nodded and stepped aside.

Theodore put a finger to his lips, signaling silence, as Stephen entered the room.

“He’s finally asleep,” Theodore whispered.

The baby—name still undecided—lay in his crib, sleeping soundly. Stephen leaned over, hardly daring to breathe too deeply in case he disturbed the infant.

“They’re very sweet when they’re asleep,” he remarked in a whisper. “Like little wax dolls.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Theodore huffed. “He’s a little banshee. Worse than Kitty, in fact.”

“From my recollection, Kitty was an angel.”

“You’re quite wrong, I’m afraid.”

The two men stood over the crib for a few moments, staring down at the tiny creature.

For a moment, Stephen allowed himself to imagine holding a baby that washis. What would his baby look like? Would it have his green eyes or tufts of black hair? Olive skin or pale pink?

Almost without thinking, he found himself imagining a tiny baby with a head full of red hair.Redhair.

Color rushed to his face, much to his horror. He was not the sort of man whoblushedlike a nervous schoolboy facing his first waltz.

He turned away, but it was too late. Theodore’s eyes were too sharp.

“Stephen? What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing. Your baby is very sweet, by the way.”

Theodore paused, narrowing his eyes. “There’s something you aren’t telling me. Come on, man, out with it. You’ve been acting strangely since your marriage. About which I am still on the fence, by the way. What possessed you to marry? And to marryBeatrice?”

“I thought you were fond of Beatrice,” Stephen retorted.

“I am, and that leads me nicely to my second question—why wouldshemarryyou?”

“Oh, very kind, very kind.”

Theodore snorted. “I am just being honest.”

“Do you really intend to re-examine my motives? I seem to recall having this conversation with you several times in the past. You know why I chose to marry.”

Theodore was quiet for a moment, eyeing his friend thoughtfully. “Sometimes, Stephen, I feel as though I don’t know you at all. You married Beatrice—against all advice, I might add—and then you immediately deserted her for a full six months.”

“If you must know, Beatrice and I agreed to live separate lives. So off I went, to live my life, while she lived hers.”

Theodore pursed his lips, eyeing Stephen coolly. Stephen forced himself to stay still and endure his friend’s scrutiny.

I can see why some men advocate for steering clear of friends altogether.Friends can cut through one’s defenses as cleanly as a hot knife through butter. I consider myself an excellent liar, but when it comes to my old friend, I turn into a babbling youth again. I simply can’t lie to him. Or to Beatrice.

“Do you know what I think?” Theodore said after the pause had stretched on for a long while.

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