Chapter 23
“I am about to lose my mind.”
“Welcome to married life!” Aston declared with a tiger grin. “Isn’t it absolutely wonderful?”
“No,” he gritted, tempted to pop the duke in the glib mouth. “It is not.”
“I say, old boy,” Aston lowered the brandy bottle and flung his long, velvet dressing gown back as he stalked from the fireside. “Do confess your sins.”
Adam let out a suffering sigh and looked at Tony, reticent to give words to his presence at Aston’s house before company. Even if it was his friend.
“Oh,” Aston said easily. “Tony is excellent with confessions.”
Tony lifted his brandy snifter. “It’s all my experience with sin, you see.”
Adam blew out another exacerbated breath then flung himself down onto the closest chair, unbidden. “Aston, this is all your fault you know.”
“It almost always is,” Aston agreed. “Now do tell, what am I responsible for?”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “You prodded and pushed me towards Beatrix.”
“Now, now. I did nothing of the sort,” Aston said indignantly, pouring himself a brandy. “I merely pointed out your very obvious affection.”
“I agree with Da,” Tony declared. His easy presence, which was usually so welcome, was damned annoying at present. Still, his loyalty to his father, so apparent, was admirable.
Tony cocked his head to the side, completely relaxed in the leather wing-backed chair. “You were mooning after her.”
“Mooning?” Adam eyed the brandy, wondering if Aston was ever going to get around to being a good host. “I’m a bloody captain of a ship of war. I do not moon.”
“Fine them. Admiring with great enthusiasm,” Tony quipped before he took a swallow of his own brandy and hooked his leg over the blue leather chair arm.
Adam drove a hand through his hair. “This is hell.”
Aston clapped him on the back then handed him an exceptionally large drink. “Say it isn’t so, Duke. Marriage should be bliss.”
He took the brandy and downed it in one swift swallow. “Not for everyone.”
Aston stared at his swift consumption, took the glass, and wordlessly refilled it.
“You two aren’t everyone.” As he said it, he passed the refreshed glass. “I truly was certain you two were perfect for each other. Surely, this is just a misunderstanding. All marriages have misunderstandings.”
“You should see the misunderstanding Da and Ros had,” Tony crowed helpfully. “I swear, if it wasn’t for me, Da would be drunk in the West Indies right now, driven from his lady love forever.”
“Thank you, puppy,” Aston said, rubbing his chin, “for extolling my virtues.”
Tony raised his glass in salute. “I love you, Da.”
“I know, puppy. I know. Now, let us help our American friend here.” Aston narrowed his eyes as he headed to the fire and leaned against the carved mantelpiece. His velvet coat swirled about him like some mad demon’s wings. “You aren’t planning on running off to parts unknown, are you?”
“It had occurred to me, but no.” Adam took a more reasonable drink, this time, trying to enjoy the rich, smooth liquor. It was in vain. Too much was tormenting him for simple pleasures to be noted. “I promised her I would stay here.”
“Did you?” Aston asked, surprised.
“Until she was pregnant.”
“Oh, old man,” Aston said with no hint of his usual bombastic nature. “I’m terribly sorry.”
To his consternation, it was clear that Aston wasn’t sorry. Perhaps, he’d promised not to leave under such circumstances but because of what had happened at the house party.
His jaw tightened and somehow he managed to get out, “Thank you.”
The genuine sympathy in both men before him was distressing. He wasn’t about to go to pieces. Not when he’d come here to accomplish something. Besides. Duke men didn’t fall apart.
“What occurred, then, to set this all off?” Aston asked with surprising gentleness. “As I understand, this sort of occurrence is the very devil for a marriage. Even an excellent one.”
Adam ground his teeth together then drank again, deeply. “I shouldn’t talk about it.”
“You damned well should,” Tony declared. “Men aren’t made of stone. If you don’t get it out, you’ll break.”
“She wants to have another child,” he burst out, as if Tony’s urging had suddenly allowed him to be free. It certainly wasn’t the brandy. He hadn’t had enough of it. But there was something about this room, Aston’s domain, which felt safe. As if one could bare their soul in the velvet-curtained, fire-lit room, littered with books and papers.
“Course she does,” Aston said simply.
“There is no of course about it,” Adam growled, gripping the glass until he felt it gouging into his palm. “You should have seen what happened. It was—”
Aston crossed over and, much to Adam’s surprise, he crouched down. “You almost saw her die.”
Adam’s throat closed and he gave a tight nod of his head then drank deeply again. Drank deeper than he had in weeks because he had wanted to be alert at all times to help Beatrix. The promise of oblivion was damned tempting.
“So, you don’t wish to have children then?” Aston asked softly.
“I- I never thought of it before. But then the idea of a child with Beatrix—” The image he had created of a beautiful, little person, their eyes alight, witnessing the world for the first time came to him. . . As did his sister again. The pain deep down within him ate his insides. He could scarcely speak but he forced himself. “I know what it is to lose a child. Not mine, mind you. My sister and now. . .”
Aston reached out and placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder.
“I ought to punch you,” Adam gritted. He both did and did not wish to be consoled.
Aston cocked his face to the side. “If it will make you feel better, please do. But I’d prefer a blow to my stomach. The wife loves my face.”
Adam laughed and that laugh turned into a broken sound. “I have seen so much death.”
Aston nodded. “I know, old boy. I know.”
Tony stood and crossed to crouch beside his father. “You need to tell her.”
Adam should have felt cornered by the two men before him. He did not. In fact, he felt supported. “I told her I loved her.”
Aston held his gaze. “And?”
The agony of that moment, as he stood there like a fool, begging for her to see him, raced in and he closed his eyes. “She looked right through me. As if such a thing did not matter in the pursuit of an heir.” He snapped his eyes open, shocked to find his eyes were nearly wet. “Christ, it’s the only thing that matters.”
“It is. It is,” Aston agreed softly. “But she’s not thinking clearly, now is she?”
“I just. . . I want her to see me,” Adam said hoarsely. “As I have seen her. God, I saw her in that park and I knew she was a woman for the ages.”
Aston grabbed his arm, as if he could pass on his own strength in Adam’s moment of pain. “That’s right and you don’t give up on a woman like that.”
“Which is why I’m here,” Adam agreed.
“Oh?” Aston leaned back now, clearly intrigued.
He lifted his brandy to his lips but before he drank, he said, “About that committee, Aston?”
Aston’s caring visage turned to one of pleased triumph. “I’m glad you’ve come around. We need you.”
Tony stepped back at that moment, something not quite right there.
As if feeling his young friend’s pain, he turned his gaze to the man. “Thank you, Tony. For telling me what I needed to hear. But I don’t know if I can tell her the full truth. About my own pain.”
“If you want her to understand you, then you have to,” Tony said quietly, his usually boisterous spirits dim. “If she doesn’t love you, she was never yours.”
Never mind. The idea was impossible to contemplate. For in his mind, she had always been his and always would be. But was that what she wanted, too?
Well, he would bloody well have to find out and he was damned well going to do something with his life again, too.