Page 16 of The Duke's Second Bride
CHAPTER 7
After the garden party and after depositing Luke safely at home with his maid, Christian found himself at the gentleman’s club. After such a trying afternoon, he was in sore need of a drink.
“Richmond! Old chap.” Vincent Hampton, Marquess of Sedwin, plopped down in the seat beside him, giving Christian a friendly clap on the shoulder. “It’s been far too long since we’ve beengracedwith your presence, eh? Where on Earth have you been hiding away?”
Christian concealed his wince with a smile. Vincent was a good-natured fellow—and often unaware of the strength he possessed.
“Come, now. I’ve hardly been hiding,” he said. “And I could say the same of you! Too busy tending to your estate to be out and about on the ton?”
Vincent waved a hand. “Ah, Sophia keeps me too busy to leave the house. And the children—James is ten now, can you believe it? And Lucy is six! It takes the wind out of a man, all this child-rearing business. Though I’m sure you know what I mean. Your boy, Luke, he must be what, eight? Nine?”
“Eleven,” Christian corrected him, before leaning back to take a sip of his scotch.
“Eleven! Well. How the time does fly. It’s been so long since I saw him out with you. I’m surprised. Next time we are all at a family gathering, you must bring him! I’m sure he and James would get along swimmingly.”
“Yes,” Christian said teasingly, “they’d get along about as well as you and I.”
Vincent took the jest in good stride. While it was true the two of them seldom crossed paths anymore, they had known each other since they were young men and shared an understanding that any barbs launched against the other were all meant in good fun.
“Ah. It’s good to see you’re still capable of tossing a light joke.”
“What do you mean?” Christian asked.
“Come now, man. Let us speak plainly. You all but had a dark cloud circling your head when you first came in here,” Vincent replied. “What is the matter?”
Christian shook his head. And here he had thought he was hiding his emotional state so well.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered.
“I’d hardly say anything, based on that scowl,” Vincent persisted. “But very well; if you will not say anything about it, then I will simply have to make guesses until you accede.”
“Aren’t you a bit old to be playing twenty questions, Vincent?”
Vincent held a hand to his heart. “You wound me. But no matter how old we both are, here is my first guess: does your dour mood perhaps have anything to do with a certain widow?”
Christian’s head snapped up. He glared at the other man. “How did you—” He shook his head in disgust. “Never mind,” he muttered.
“The ton talks, old man! Word will spread quicker than you could ever expect. Faster than lightning, by my estimate.” He leaned closer towards the other man, resting his chin on his hand with one brow raised inquisitively. “Well? Care to share any more, or shall I go on with my guessing game?”
Christian sighed. “I first encountered Lady Dunfair at the hot air balloon fair.”
“Ah, so itisLady Dunfair!” his friend said interestedly, a sly gleam entering his eye. “And all I had said was that it was a widow?—”
Christian smacked his friend’s arm. “Luke had managed to slip out of his maid’s grasp.”
“Ah, you can’t be too cross at him for that. My boy does the same. It is to be expected of them at that age—all they want is to grow up, be proper men before their time. And did he manage to run into Lady Dunfair, I take it?”
“I assume so. When I found them, he had wandered over to a horse. When the fireworks went off, the horse was scared, and I…” Christian paused, and took a labored breath. “She pulled him away from the horse. But I was so frightened for his safety, and in my fear, I took out some of that frustration on Lady Dunfair. She told me that Luke should be allowed to be near more animals, and I accused her of being presumptuous for telling me how to raise my son.”
Vincent hissed in a breath. “Bad start, my friend.”
“Was I so wrong? As though she were in a position to tell me how to be a father to my son. She should be more concerned with her own children.”
Vincent raised another brow. “She hasn’t any. Surely you’ve heard the rumors? The late Lord Dunfair was quite vicious in how he spoke of her—that she was infertile, uninviting … frigid, even.”
A vision of Ava’s face, flushed and warm in the heat of their argument, flashed across Christian’s mind.
He couldn’t imagine a less apt description for such a fiery woman than frigid.
