Page 58 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Chapter Eighteen

Laurel awoke aftera restless night, surprised she’d finally dozed off. She’d stayed at the garden party until it ended and then accompanied Aunt Constance and Hannah back to the townhouse. Pleading a headache, she’d retreated to her room and remained in it the rest of the evening. She’d sat in a chair for a long time, watching the door that led to her dressing room, wondering if Anthony might come through it.

He hadn’t.

She’d finally heard noise in the hall and slipped from the chair. Opening the door a few inches, she could hear him stumbling along, bumping into the walls. She waited half an hour and then tread softly through her dressing room and his, opening the door to his bedchamber. She found him sprawled across his bed, his clothes askew, reeking of alcohol. Disgusted, she returned to her room and went to bed, though sleep evaded her.

She’d never been more miserable. Not even when threatened by Julius Farmon. She’d found a way to escape Farmon.

She was linked to Anthony for life.

Divorce was unheard of among theton. It was too late for an annulment. She might already be carrying their child. A child made in passion but one whose parents thoroughly hated each other. No, that wasn’t true. He might loathe her but she didn’t feel the same way, despite the fact they seemed to argue more than anything else.

Had she really done something wrong by wanting to learn about boxing? She supposed in his eyes, she had. He had been raised under an entirely different set of rules from her. Attended an all-male school. Then he’d gone into the military and had been thrust into the midst of war, where each day might have been his last. He was used to the company of men. She must seem like some foreign creature to him, especially since she wasn’t of his social class. For God’s sake, he was a bloody duke! She was an illegitimate working-class girl, a pretender in her fine gowns and jewels. She might be the darling of thetonnow but society was fickle.

Laurel dressed on her own, not wishing to rouse Retta. She decided to apologize to her husband. Cutting through their joined rooms, she reached his bedchamber door and knocked. No response. She knocked again. Still nothing. Pushing open the door, she found his bed empty and wondered if he’d arisen to go for an early morning ride. She went to the window and saw him entering the stables.

Hurrying from his room, she went down the flights of stairs and out of the house. When she reached the stables, she was met by Tam.

“If you’re looking for His Grace, you just missed him.”

“Oh.” She deflated, gloom settling over her. As she turned back toward the house, the groom asked, “Did you come to see your gift, Your Grace?”

Laurel wheeled. “What gift?”

“The horse His Grace bought for you,” the man replied. “His Grace said he’d gotten it for you as a wedding gift. Her name’s Clio. She’s a right beauty.”

Stunned, she asked, “May I see her?”

Tam led her to a stall and Laurel saw a light gray horse standing there. She was about fifteen hands high and had beautiful lines and intelligent eyes.

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She is indeed. His Grace bought her at Tattersall’s yesterday. Said you wouldn’t have time to ride her because the two of you had a garden party to attend but he was excited for you to see her.”

The groom’s words brought a world of hurt to Laurel. Anthony had bought her this mount as a wedding gift. He’d come in yesterday ready to share Clio with her, only to be disappointed by her un-duchess-like behavior. They’d argued and she’d left the house, attending the party without him. No wonder he’d gone out drinking. He had an unmanageable, unladylike, ungrateful wife. She determined that somehow she would make it up to him.

“Did His Grace go riding in the park?”

“I assume so. He favors Rotten Row this time of day.”

“Please saddle Clio. I wish to go find him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Tam worked quickly and led the horse from the stables. “Wait here. I’ll saddle a horse and come with you.”

He went back into the stable but Laurel didn’t have the patience to wait. She needed to see Anthony now. Leading Clio to the mounting block, she stroked the horse’s neck.

“We’re going to go find my husband, Clio. I’m so glad to have you, my sweet girl. Let’s go see Anthony.”

With that, she climbed onto the block and mounted the horse, taking off quickly. Clio had a smooth gait and she reached the park in no time. At this early hour, it was deserted.

She went to Rotten Row and saw her husband riding in the distance. Her heart pounded as she watched him, man and beast seemingly one. Bucephalus galloped toward her and as they approached, she could see Anthony’s coattails flying. He spied her and came to an abrupt halt. He was still too far away for her to see his face clearly so Laurel nudged Clio and cantered toward them.

When she reached them, she pulled up on the reins and moved to the ground. He did likewise, coming to stand before her. His eyes were bloodshot. Stubble covered his face. His hair needed combing.

He was still the most handsome man she knew.

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