Page 76 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jeremy couldn’t gohome. He and Catherine weren’t expected for a full week. For him to arrive a day after his wedding—without his bride—would lead to too many questions.

Questions he couldn’t answer.

He thought of going to Morefield’s but decided Catherine would head there for refuge. He couldn’t see her going to his London residence and facing him after their last conversation. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her from Charlotte.

Though he hadn’t been in several weeks, he decided to retreat to his club. He’d begun going regularly to White’s and other clubs after he got back on his feet financially. The club was the best place to discover which businesses members were investing in and how their profits and losses stacked up. He’d gleaned valuable information merely from spending time there, playing a few hands of cards or reading a newspaper, idly talking with others who came in and out.

Today, it would be his sanctuary.

He stabled his horse a few blocks away and walked to St. James’ Street. Entering White’s, he consulted the betting book, where members placed bets on the most trivial of matters. Usually, the wagers recorded amused him. In his current mood, he only found them childish.

Grabbing a newssheet lying on a table, he settled into a chair and rested it in his lap. Try as he may, he couldn’t read a line on it. Every time he tried to focus on the print, all he could see was Catherine’s face. The deep hurt that he’d put on that beautiful face, denying her the chance to become a mother.

Jeremy stopped a waiter and ordered a glass of port. He sipped on it, pretending to read, as he listened to the conversations of others who sat near him. He signaled for another drink and then another. After that, he lost track. He was determined to dull the ache within him, as physical a pain as if he’d been run through with a sword.

Someone was shaking him. Blearily, he opened his eyes and recognized the fair hair and blue eyes. “Morefield.”

His friend bent close. “What are you doing here, Everton? You’re supposed to be at Eversleigh with your wife.”

“Doesn’t want me,” he said sullenly.

“What?” Morefield hissed. He glanced around. “You’re coming with me.”

Somehow, Morefield got him out of the chair and urged him through the club and out the doors. Darkness had fallen. Jeremy tottered about unsteadily as a wave of nausea hit him and he vomited in the street.

“Lean against this,” Morefield instructed, pushing him against a brick wall before marching off.

Minutes later, he returned with another man and they assisted him to a hackney. The rolling motion made him sick to his stomach and he placed his head in his hands.

“Tell me before we get home what has happened,” Morefield demanded.

“I’ve lost her,” Jeremy said, his words void of emotion.

“I don’t understand, Everton.”

“She wants an annulment,” he said bluntly.

“Catherine... wants... what did you say?”

“You heard me. I did something. Awful. She doesn’t want me anymore.” He plunged his face back into his hands.

Morefield peppered him with questions but Jeremy waved them away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

They arrived and Morefield got him out of the hackney. He sank to the ground as his friend paid the driver. Together, the two men yanked him to his feet and took him safely inside.

Morefield’s valet took over from there, scooping Jeremy up and slinging him over his shoulder. The man carried him up and up, Jeremy bouncing with each step, his stomach curdling, until he was tossed upon a bed.

“I won’t try to talk to you anymore tonight, Everton, because you’re too inebriated. But you will give me answers in the morning. If you don’t, I’ll turn Charlotte loose on you.”

Jeremy groaned. “Not that.”

“Yes, most definitely that. She is my secret weapon. Strip him,” Morefield ordered the valet. “Make sure his clothes are cleaned and he’s had a bath when he comes down in the morning.”

*

Jeremy awakened toa pounding headache. He opened his eyes and the light streaming in from the window blinded him. He closed them and tried to roll over but hadn’t the strength to move.

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