Page 32 of His Abandoned Duchess

Of course, they remained as ever in regard to Amelia.

I traveled all this way to ensure that she would not sully our reputations, and lo, I am carried away to a gentleman’s club seeking reprieve from the way the woman vexes me so.

Vex was not precisely the word to use, he was forced to admit to himself, and Richard knew this escape would be but a temporary reprieve. But he was still not of a mind to acknowledge—even to himself—his true feelings surrounding his wife, at least, not in so many words, because Richard was too aware of how his body and spirit reacted whenever Amelia was in his presence.

A spell. A fairy’s wicked magic. It’s the only explanation for it all.

In truth, Richard could not bring himself to believe his wife was a witch or immortal heretic. The notion was indeed preposterous. But the manner in which her very presence had ensorcelled him was alarmingly profound. Each moment he was in her presence, Richard was rendered a lustful heathen, unable to keep himself from touching her,enjoyingher.

The trousers he wore tightened around his waist, the sealed fall at the front straining as the memory of his evening with Amelia consumed his mind. Her voluptuous body had yielded so beautifully to him, and the taste of her lips and flesh still lingered on his tongue. He could feel her wrapped around him, the slick warmth gripping his length until he utterly lost himself to her.

Richard released a strangled groan and forced himself out of his head, clearing his throat as he adjusted in the seat. The hat he held clutched in his lap was sure to be marred with the indent of his fingertips for the way he squeezed the wool.

What is wrong with me? I’m likely to destroy one of my best beavers for the agitation gnawing at me. How in blazes have I become this enamored buck so readily?

The clopping of the horse’s hooves adjusted to a disjointed pace that slowed to a gentle stop as the curricle pulled up in front of the gentleman’s club. It took only a moment for the tiger to secure the space and allow Richard to disembark from the vehicle, offering a hand as he stepped down.

He trod on the uneven cobbles, proceeding directly to the front entrance of the club, knowing well that Frederick would be inside waiting for him. Richard was most in need of a respite this evening, and a dram or several with his oldest friend would certainly perform the task admirably.

St. James was crowded with the arrival of several more men of status, and the booming conversations contained within could be heard escaping onto the street from all three of the clubs that resided there. White’s, Richard’s destination, was as lively as ever, and his stomach rumbled for the delicious entrees he would soon enjoy inside.

Perhaps a good bit of food will improve my mood, at least a touch.

The breeze picked up at Richard’s back, a silent encouragement to get moving, and on the wind, he could smell the subtle metallic scent of rain to come. Spring storms were prevalent this time of year, and for a moment, Richard regretted leaving his heavier coat and umbrella behind for the evening.

Upon approaching the door, Richard was offered a stoic nod from the gentleman who stood ready to greet those arriving. The man recognized him and allowed Richard entry as a lifelong member of White’s, the status granted to him by his father’s previous membership here and his before him. The proud columns at the front of the building were still quite a sight, and the overlarge lanterns on either side of the door crackled loudly as the fire burned behind the soot-caked glass.

Boisterous shouting sounded the moment Richard stepped inside, and he tracked his eyes across the crowded room toward the groupings of tables set near the far wall. Several gentlemen took their turns about betting in the area, and the culprit table of the raucous cries was filled with a squadron of young men cheering over a game of hazard.

Richard shook his head, rolling his eyes fully around at the group playing and proceeded to the dining area to the other side to find Frederick. A server was quickly upon him as he approached the adjoining room, and Richard was directed to the table where his friend sat expectantly.

The ever-present din of conversation followed Richard wherever he stepped, and he surveyed the space with nostalgia as he recognized the lofty domed ceiling dripping with several chandeliers and the faint, sunny green shade of the walls. A fire crackled loudly in the massive, ornate fireplace, and a performer entertained the crowd with varying renditions of popular tunes on a pianoforte.

“There is our most-anticipated Duke. Come! Sit down, sit down.”

Frederick offered his customary grin, and Richard was ushered to his seat at the same table. The attendant took the request for his drink, and Richard sighed long as he was at last left to discuss matters of the week with his friend.

“Lord Emerton, I am grateful for your company and glad to be seeing you out of doors and away from Heartwick.”

With a scoff, Frederick sipped at his punch, his cheeks already pinkened by the heady mixture of alcohols it contained.

“We are hardly taking in the fresh air, Blackford.” Frederick gestured around their tables, the air thick with the fragrances customary of a party. “But it has been some time since you’ve joined me for an evening at White’s. Certainly, your distress is terrific should you require a night spent amongst your ‘loose in the haft’ companion.”

It was Richard’s turn at scoffing, and he shook his head vigorously as he tipped back with a laugh. Collecting himself, the Duke’s wine was delivered, and he regarded Frederick once more.

“I have never once taken to calling you loose in any regard or confirmed the suspicions of your rakish behavior to anyone.” He raised his brows at him. “Though the matters of my own mind are an entirely different matter.”

The two men laughed, the flowing cups beginning to alleviate some of the tension that clung to Richard’s shoulders.

“You offer a bag of moonshine to me at no end, Richard. I know well how you think of me, and I, your dearest friend. Ugh.”

Richard lifted a hand to his chest, ducking his head toward Frederick as he presented his glass with the other hand.

“You are my dearest and oldest friend, Freddie, and it is as such that I know precisely how to think of you. You’d have your Roger down Drury Lane Vestal this very evening were it not for my dragging you to White’s.”

He laughed, clapping his hand down on his leg before Frederick polished off the remaining liquid of his Regent’s Punch. The Marquess’s favorite concoction and, of course, the country’s fair leader’s.

“You chawbacon! Away far too long at Blackford for your own good graces. The blasted nerves on you are clearly made of steel alone!”

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