Page 79 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Settling his coat around him, he huddled in a corner, determined to make the best of it and sleep it off there.
He was deeply asleep when a shake of his shoulder had him waking irritably. “What?”
“I brought the carriage, sir, to take you home.”
He squinted up into the dimness and saw a figure looming over him. Blinking a few times in confusion, he realized that he recognized the man. It was the coachman.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested weakly.
“Yes, I did, my lord. The family is worried about you.”
Eric took leave to doubt that but staggered to his feet anyway and made his way outside. “Don’ f’get th' 'orse,” he mumbled.
“No, sir,” the coachman said.
Eric saw a young groomsman leading the animal towards them. He realized that the coachman had not come alone but was accompanied by one of the grooms. The groom took the horse’s reins and climbed on, ready to make his way home. Vaguely, beneath his drunkenness, Eric felt a little embarrassed to have caused all this fuss. He had not meant to worry anyone.
He got in the carriage and sat down, lulled back to sleep by the gentle rolling gait of the horses as they made their way back. He woke up again when the door was opened by none other than Silver.
Eric could see the judgment in his eyes.
“What?” he asked belligerently.
“We’ve had a letter. His Grace has taken ill. He is now bedridden. He will not be able to come and check on you, so he has left that up to me. I would urge you to take your duties seriously.”
Eric’s mouth twisted. “What makes you think I’m not?”
Silver just gave him a sidelong glance. “There is hot water awaiting you in your chambers as well as some hot soup and bread. If you need anything further, I am at your service.”
“Oh, don’t I know it. Where’s Lady Freya?”
“She’s waiting for you as well,” Silver said pointedly.
Eric rolled his eyes and with a sigh, he began to climb the stairs.
* * *
Freya did not understand why Eric had seen the need to disappear from her after their intense encounter. She feared that he might regret it, but if that was so, she did not want to know. It was one of the best experiences of her life, and she did not want the memory of it sullied by Eric’s rejection.
So, she pretended to be asleep when he came into their chambers, smelling of drink and tavern smoke. The next day, she got out of bed and left him snoring, going out to her garden to spend a little time before she had to face Eric at breakfast.
“Oh, Mama, what are we doing?” she murmured to the roses in despair.
There was no answer.
Isabella came skipping up to her. “Freya, now that father is bedridden, do we have to go to London and look after him?”
Freya paused, pursing her lips as she thought about it.It would be the right thing to do.
Freya knew this, but she was reluctant to subject herself to her father’s haranguing, especially if he was now on his deathbed with nothing to lose. Still, she did not want to deprive her sister of what might be the last days with her father.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Bella. I’ll have to ask my husband.”
Isabella nodded in acceptance, twisting her hands. “I hope he agrees. I know Papa isn’t the kindest man, but he’s all I have left.”
Freya frowned. “What do you mean? You have me too.”
“Yes, but you’re married now. You’re starting your own family.”
