Page 5 of Good Duke Gone Rogue

“She’s a grown woman and can make her own choices. Perhaps she had her reasons. Her husband only passed away two years ago. She may still be in mourning.”

“Husband?” Reggie scoffed. “That—”

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Reginald.”

“Don’t mind him, Mother. He’s just out of sorts because of the wedding.”

“Weddings,” he emphasized the last letter to sound like a cloud of bees. “By my count, I have attended seven weddings. You shan’t get one more out of me. Mark my words.” He drilled his index finger up into the air for effect.

“Yes, dear.” His mother patted his thigh as though he were a five year old child.

Despite the patronizing actions and words by his family, Reggie knew in his heart that nothing on God’s green earth could drag him out to another wedding this season. Charlotte’s wedding to Davin was a few months out, nearing Christmas, so he could fortunately honor his vow.

What was it with women and wanting to marry? Especially married women. Or engaged women. Or courted women. Or debuted women. They all wanted to marry. Didn’t they have anything better to do?

The thoughts rankled. Of course, he was being petulant. He understood society and its strictures. He just didn’t really like them. And crazy as it sounded, he didn’t think women should really like them all that much either.

And even though those thoughts were genuine, if he was being severely honest with himself, he would have to accept that he was beyond antsy when he thought about seeing Bernadette.

Growing up, she had been the caution to his recklessness. The laughter to his jokes. The locked box to his secrets. Save one. Nothing would ever come of the sweaty palms and heartpalpitations he had from being around her because she was older than him by two years.

The ubiquitous power of birthing order. Nothing and no one came close to being within reach of its power. Though some tried. It was the source of so much iniquity. As with any power, there came duty. And Bernadette had a duty to marry for money. She had married for convenience and it was entirely inconvenient for him. But at seventeen no one would have believed him to be in love. Especially not with an older woman. And especially not with Bernadette. She was a diamond of the first water, and he was…well, gangly, awkward, boisterous. Her opposite in nearly every way.

“How long is she staying?” He piped up making his voice sound cheerier than he felt.

“Reginald, dear, she’ll stay as long as she likes.”

Bloody hell. That probably meant that she was staying for a while. Hiding away in his room wasn’t feasible for longer than a day or two. Maximum.

He must not have hid his reaction, for his mother pinched his arm. “She is a dear family friend. She has no one else left in the world but us. You will be kind. You will be on your best behavior. And you will put aside your own feelings, and you will be her friend.”

Isn’t that what he had already been doing all these years? Perhaps not the best behavior part, but the rest.

Yes, he knew how to play the part. Heart aside. He would be her friend. Whatever she asked, he would give it to her. No matter how hard it would be. It didn’t take his mother telling him that. He would do it for Bernadette. He always had, and he always would.

Chapter 3

TRY AS HE MIGHT, Reggie could not prepare himself to see Bernadette upon arriving at home. Thankfully she hadn’t arrived yet and he could slip out to his club. If he stayed long enough, and drank enough, he wouldn’t have to see her at all this evening, thus buying him one more day to ready himself.

It would likely take a bottle or two to clear his head from the last memory he had of her.

He groaned into his cup as he sipped the amber whiskey and leaned back into his chair. It had been such a ridiculously innocuous evening, he couldn’t even recall where they were. Some dinner party or other. She was dressed up. He was dressed up. Everyone was dressed up. But apparently her dressing up provoked him more than it should have. He thought he had put his feelings at bay, since she was a married woman and all. But when he saw her deep violet dress contrasting so sharply withher sunshine colored hair and ocean eyes, he was a slave to his urgings.

Except, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

There were people around, and besides that, Bernadette believed in fidelity. She would not stray from her decrepitly old husband. And surely not for Reggie. He was only her friend. Perhaps—he cringed—she even might think of him as a younger brother. God, he hoped not.

But that dress…pushing up on her breasts to give him a view of soft, white mounds that he could only dream of licking…it was enough to drive him to drink. So he pounded back a few shots after dinner, thankfully during which he had been able to keep his mouth mostly shut, if not his eyes.

It was the after dinner part that was the problem. He hadn’t kept track of his drinks, and for that reason he could no longer keep track of his tongue. And it began wagging. There was a moment when she was slightly removed from the party, and like the bacon brain that he was, he took that moment. He winced in memory. Even now he couldn’t believe his mettle.

He had approached her as jovially as he could.

“Fine evening we’re having, Lady Simcott.”

“Reggie, please. I don’t insist on formalities. Not a soul can hear you.”

Maybe it was that encouragement, and he took it too far. Sadly, no, he could not blame her. It was his own pining, jaded heart that steered him wrong.

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