Page 13 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
Tommy examined his nails, letting this new information sink in.After the duke’s strained departure, he’d opened a fresh bottle of port and drunk himself into oblivion.When Sidney discovered him next morning, half-conscious and slumped over his desk, Tommy had cursed, cast up his accounts, then killed a second bottle as swiftly as he’d dispensed with the first.
Sickeningly, in the three weeks since, the sour stench of Ashington’s betrayal over a decade earlier had been supplanted by a far rosier fragrance, though no less welcome.The bittersweet scent of fresh heartbreak had reacquainted itself all over again.Bruisingdidn’t even begin to cover it.
“Is his intention to make life difficult for you?”the earl asked sharply.“For a second time?”
“God, no.”Tommy frowned.“I rather think not.”
What duke alive wished to destroy their family’s reputation in one foul stroke?
“We reached an unspoken impasse in that regard because I could rather throw him under the carriage wheels with me, couldn’t I?”
“Mmm.”Rossingley steepled his long, elegant fingers.“So, he’s a man of substance with much to lose.That’s something, at least.”He tilted his head to one side.“How did you expect this unforeseen encounter to play out?You must have imagined it might happen one day?”
“I always believed I’d want to kill him.”
Tommy’s smart accent lapsed under stress, and it failed him now, betraying traces of his humble origins.“I’m not saying I’d have gone through with it, of course.I’m no murderer.But I must own to all sorts of unseemly dark fantasies.I also expected to be rather more…in control.”
The earl’s brow creased in concentration as his gaze left Tommy to survey the array of delicate candied fruits and jellies spread out before him.“Yet when you found yourself facing him once more?”
“I…I don’t exactly know,” Tommy admitted.“I still don’t.It was such a shock, you see.I assumed he must no longer reside in London or even England.Have travelled abroad, perhaps.Or even…be dead.”
He shuddered.Whatever his jumbled mess of feelings were regarding the duke, none of them included a wish for that.He grimaced.“I wanted to shake him by his aristocratic neck until his teeth rattled.I’ll say that much.”
“Shakehim, darling?”Rossingley paused as he selected a glazed gooseberry, giving it a neat lick with the pink tip of his tongue before popping it in his mouth.“Or do something else to him as equally and vigorously satisfying?”
Tommy groaned.Trust bloody Rossingley to spear the heart of the matter within seconds.Ever since the wretched duke with his damned raven hair and his oh-so-serious heart-shaped tease of a mouth had presented himself in Tommy’s study, he’d frigged himself more times than he could count until he was shrivelled and sore and utterly despised himself.And blasted Rossingley, the only person he ever dared open his soul to, sensed it.
“Something else, damn you.”
If angry, frustrated tears didn’t drown him first, then a crimson flush threatened to swallow Tommy whole.He snatched at one of the sugared candies and tossed it into his mouth.A very poor substitute for alcohol.The temptation to continue pickling his bones in port wine was as strong as ever.
“Oh, Tommy.”The earl heaved a sigh.“I know you’ve tried your damnedest to turn it to granite, but you always were a tart with a heart.And I always feared it might be your downfall.”
Another candy went the way of the first.“That is singularly unhelpful, my friend.But yes, me and my bleeding soft heart.”
Rossingley threw him an affectionate look.His own heart was softer than he let on too.“The walls separating love and hate are so very paper thin, aren’t they?”
“Extraordinarily so,” Tommy agreed tightly.“Even when more than a decade splits the two.”
Rossingley carefully picked out another fruit, this time a syrupy sliver of apricot, and hummed his appreciation.Tommy was yet to meet a sweet dessert the earl couldn’t defeat.
“Your lordling,” Rossingley ventured.“Is now a young man in his prime.Is he hale and hearty?”
That the earl didn’t speculate upon the man’s identity was commendable.And a relief.Whilst he’d a desperate need to unload, Tommy couldn’t be sure his mouth would form the name.
“He’s both healthy and wealthy.And remains a bachelor.”
“Ah.”They exchanged a glance requiring no words.“And now that you have this knowledge, Tommy, regarding this individual, may I be so bold as to enquire what you plan to do with it?”
“Certainly,” said Tommy with a rueful smile.“I shall cast it to the back of my mind in the hope it withers and dies there.”
“A lesser man than I would wish you heaps of luck with that, darling.”After a final rummage through the jellies, the earl pushed the plate away.“But I think we can both agree”—he unwrapped the sweet as if it was priceless porcelain—“that in the grand scheme of excellent plans, you’ve conjured a truly abominable one.If I’m not mistaken, you’ve attempted the amnesia strategy for the past decade.And failed.”Another sweet fancy disappeared down his gullet.“What on earth makes you think it will work now?Unless he’s turned into a festering gout-ridden toad?”
If only.Eyes screwed closed proved no shield against unhelpful images of His Grace’s handsome, yet utterly miserable, face popping into his head.Tommy groaned again.
“I assume that is a no,” said the earl.
“Far from it, unfortunately.”
