Chapter 18

Sunny wandered into the breakfast room rather earlier than usual the following day. Instead of finding the morning meal already laid out, the footmen were still bringing in the silver chafing dishes and setting them onto the rosewood sideboard.

Sunny settled in his seat. “Has the newspaper arrived?” he asked Dowding.

“Yes, Your Grace, they’re ironed and ready.” Sunny registered the butler’s very discreet surprise at the query. Dowding nodded to one of the attending footmen, who immediately slipped out of the room.

“Excellent.” Sunny never bothered to read the newspaper, but he thought he might as well begin today. Absent of his usual revels, he needed to find other activities to help pass the hours. Perusing the day’s news might assist in that endeavor. “Going forward, I’d like to have the paper laid out daily along with breakfast.”

“Very good, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

“As I am in the Lords, I may as well acquaint myself with the issues of the day.”

Dowding supervised as the remaining footman filled Sunny’s porcelain coffee cup. “Indeed, Your Grace.”

As a member of the House of Lords, Sunny helped craft the laws of the land, but he rarely paid attention to legislative matters, which he’d always found tiresome. He normally voted along with Vale or Cosmo’s father, the Marquess of Aldridge. The two men often supported the same measures, although not always. Sunny also retained an adviser, Hector Booth, to counsel him on political matters so that Sunny wouldn’t have to bother learning the issues himself.

The footman returned with the newspapers just as Dowding set a full plate before Sunny. Tossing a liver into his mouth, he reached for the top periodical. “Why are there two newspapers?”

“We order the newspapers that Mr. Booth requested we have available for His Grace.”

“Is there a difference?” Sunny reached for his coffee. “Surely all of the news is the same.”

“As I understand it, Your Grace, The Times appeals to Tories, while the Whigs are partial to the Chronicle.”

“Hmm.” Sunny identified as neither a Tory nor a Whig; in truth, he hardly comprehended the difference between the two. Sipping his coffee, he scanned The Times headlines.

He was distracted about a half hour later by Pan, who bounded into the room with a happy bark, wagging his tail vigorously. Sunny stared down at the creature.

“Why are you so cheerful?” The animal seemed to have moved past his lethargy of the past few weeks.

“Cousin Adam! Cousin Adam!” To Sunny’s shock, the twins skipped into the room. They wore matching white dresses and shiny beaming faces. Their hair was damp, as if they’d just bathed, and tamed into single braids down their backs.

“You’re finally awake.” Patience screeched to a stop beside him. “Isabel said we weren’t allowed to disturb you while you were sleeping.”

He blinked, his chest suddenly feeling lighter. “When did you arrive?”

“They came last evening, Your Grace. Whilst you were entertaining.” Dowding beamed. Sunny apparently wasn’t alone in being pleased with the girls’ return.

“Why didn’t you inform me?” he asked his butler.

“We begged him not to.” Patience grinned. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Prudie came to his other side. “We fell asleep in the carriage so we couldn’t surprise you as soon as we arrived.” She threw her arms around his neck. “But we’re ever so glad to be home. Are you happy we’re home, Cousin Adam?”

He paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the child’s show of emotion, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return Prudie’s embrace, so he did, tightening his arms around her delicate, little form, and inhaling her clean little girl scent. “Yes,” he said, his chest feeling strangely full. “I am very happy to have you back home where you belong.”

“I knew you would be.” Prudie pulled back to look at him. “I told Isabel we had to return home because you would be missing us.”

“You were very right,” he answered truthfully. He noted that Patience was hanging back, seeming a bit uncomfortable. What was wrong with the child?

“Aren’t you going to hug Patience, too?” Prudie asked him.

Sunny studied Patience and registered the longing in her eyes. He opened his arms and she flung herself into them, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m so happy you want us, Duke,” she whispered against the fabric of his linen shirt, “so very happy.”

Sunny’s throat felt embarrassingly achy. He patted the child’s back as he tightened his hold on her. It was a novel feeling to know that someone had missed him. Naturally, as the holder of one of the highest titles in the land, he’d always been aware of his societal importance, but this was something completely different. The children had not missed the Duke of Sunderford. They’d missed Adam, the man, not the peer with the exalted title.

“I am grateful that you and your sister have come back to me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Are those sweet buns?” Prudie eyed the food offerings on the sideboard. “Can I have one?”

“You may have as many as you like.” Sunny settled a surprising clingy Patience on his lap and gestured to the footman to bring the entire platter of sweet buns to the table. “On one condition, that is.”

“What?” Patience asked almost shyly.

“You must sit here with me and tell me all about Uncle Abel and your trip.” He examined Patience’s thin frame. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell out of the apple tree?”

She reached for a sweet bun. “I got some bruises, but I cannot show them to you because they are all gone now.”

“I’m very relieved to hear that.” He was surprised at how gratifying it felt to hold Patience in his arms. The children were so innocent and trusting that it made his chest hurt. The girls seemed to have also awakened a deep-rooted protective instinct within him that he hadn’t known he possessed. “I was quite worried when I first heard you’d fallen.”

“Isabel says Patience must be more careful.” Prudie spoke around a mouthful of sweet bun.

“I agree with Finch,” he responded.

“You should have seen the kittens,” Patience told him.

“They were so little,” Prudie put in. As the girls regaled him with stories about their time away, Sunny’s gaze kept wandering to the door. Where was Finch?

He would need to have a word with her soon. To reassure her that what occurred between them in the schoolroom would not be repeated.

“Are you listening, Duke?” Patience asked.

“Yes, indeed.” He gave the girls his full attention. “You were saying there were three kittens. Tell me, what color were they?”

---

“Two women completely unclothed?” Abigail’s eyes rounded with horrified fascination. “And the couple on the sofa…they were actually engaged in the act? I mean to say, really, really doing it?”

“Yes, really.” Isabel sipped her lemonade. She’d managed to slip out to see Abigail while the children were in the breakfast room with Sunderford. “Now, can we please discuss something else?”

“No! What could possibly be more interesting than hearing the details of Sinful Sunny’s soiree?”

“Well…” If only Abbie knew.

“There’s more?” The other woman’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t tell me you attended the party.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

Isabel needed to talk to someone about her current predicament. And she and Abbie had always told each other everything. “The duke is the reason I went to Cornwall.”

Abbie slapped her lap. “I knew there was something strange about the way you ran off the day after the ball. You vanished just after dancing with the duke.”

She nodded. “I went to the schoolroom to read. He followed me.”

“He who? Sunderford?”

“Yes.”

All mirth left Abbie’s face as she studied Isabel’s somber expression. “Did something terrible happen?” she whispered. “He didn’t take advantage of you?”

“No, he didn’t force me.”

Flattening a hand against her chest, Abbie exhaled her relief. “Thank goodness. You look so serious and so miserable.”

“He didn’t force me because I wanted it as much as Sunderford did. Perhaps more.”

“What?” Abbie’s mouth fell open. “You and the Duke of Sunderford?”

“I don’t know what came over me.” She blinked against the tears forming in her eyes.

“How was it?”

“Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was frenzied and wild and wonderful.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “He was so tender. I didn’t expect that.”

“Why are you crying?” Abbie scooted closer on the sofa to put an arm around Isabel’s shoulders. “Are you feeling guilty? You have nothing to feel badly about. What is the use of being a widow if you cannot enjoy yourself in that way?”

“What am I supposed to do now? I cannot be his doxy.” Her heart thudded sluggishly in her chest. “And the party last evening shows the duke hasn’t changed. But I cannot leave. He is the girls’ guardian, and I cannot just desert them.”

“Of course you couldn’t.” Abbie sat back. “You are in an untenable situation.”

“If only Abel had sent the girls to the vicar cousin.”

“There’s a vicar cousin?”

“Cousin Curtis. I met him while I was in Cornwall with the children. He is very agreeable and told me he would have been happy to be the girls’ guardian. But Abel was convinced Sunderford would make a better guardian.”

“Why would he believe Sinful Sunny would be a proper guardian to Patience and Prudence? And after what he’s done to you—”

“Sunderford has done nothing wrong where I am concerned,” she said adamantly. “He certainly never promised me anything. He never pretended he was reformed. I lay with him because I wanted to, despite who and what he is.”

Abbie grimaced. “It would be terrible to have to endure watching him with other women after what occurred between you two.”

“Exactly.” She wiped a tear away. “I do not know why I’m crying. I feel like a fool.”

“I wish I could give you sound advice and make you feel better, but I am at a loss.”

“You are making me feel better.” She took Abbie’s hand. “It’s just a relief to be able to tell someone and not be judged.”

Abbie squeezed her hand. “I would never pass judgment on you. Never. You’ve suffered enough. I intend to make it my mission to ensure you do not suffer again in this situation.”

Isabel gave a shaky smile. “Would that you could. But you mustn’t worry about me. I shall be fine.”

“Yes,” Abigail said determinedly. “But you are deserving of much more than that, and I intend to see that you get it.”

Abbie was someone who liked to fix things. But Isabel did not think her current situation could be easily resolved. “This morning, I awoke early and penned a letter to your father. I thought perhaps he could use his influence to have guardianship removed from Sunderford and assigned to the vicar.”

“That’s a brilliant idea. Father will be so pleased.” Abbie’s face brightened. “He has always stood ready to assist you, but you’ve asked that he not interfere.”

“I was afraid matters could go terribly wrong, as they had in the past. But I expect that Sunderford will have no objection to having the children removed from his care.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of never seeing Sunderford again, but there was nothing to be done for it. “He’ll most likely welcome the chance to be rid of us.”

“You know Father. With his strict moral code, he does not at all approve of the manner in which the Duke of Sunderford conducts his life. Where is this letter that you wrote? May I see it?”

Isabel reached for her reticule and pulled the note out. “I’m not certain that I want to send it. I need to put my own emotions aside and think carefully about what is best for the girls.” She handed the paper to Abbie and waited while her friend read it.

“Well,” Abbie said when she finally looked up. “You certainly didn’t hold back.”

Isabel had poured her heart into the missive, mentioning everything from the scandalous parties to Patience almost walking in on Sunny and his guests last evening. “You know I have a tendency to write my thoughts and feelings down on paper. It helps me arrange my thoughts and settle my emotions.”

“This could certainly be damaging to Sunderford if you chose to send it.”

“I don’t want to impugn his reputation.”

Abbie made a face. “As if you could. They don’t call him Sinful Sunny due to his sterling reputation. Imagine if Patience had walked in on that scene last evening.”

A shiver of distaste went down Isabel’s spine at the thought of either of the girls witnessing what she had. “I would never forgive myself.”

“Exactly. You must seriously consider involving Papa.”

“I have to think on it. My mind is a jumble at the moment. We’ve just returned home and what occurred last evening is still too fresh.”

“It would probably be for the best to give the letter to Papa.”

“I will make the decision.” Abbie tended to have a managing nature if one didn’t stand firm. “Let us leave this topic for now.”

---

Isabel successfully avoided Sunderford for two days until he sent for her, bidding Dowding to send her to his study. She could hardly refuse a ducal summons from her employer.

As she made her way to the study, Isabel tried to settle her nerves with long, deep breaths, but the technique was of no help at all. All it did was make her feel as if she couldn’t get enough air, which only served to make her more anxious when she was not, by nature, an anxious person. Blast Sunderford!

She was standing before the large door, steeling herself, when the door opened and she found herself staring into the duke’s broad chest. She lifted her head to meet his gaze. It never failed to surprise her just how similar the vibrant silver in his eyes was to that of the girls’. Something pulled in her chest. She felt a sense of connectedness to him that had nothing to do with the sexual energy that suddenly crowded the chamber.

She broke eye contact. “You asked for me?”

“Yes.” He stepped away, putting his desk—and more distance than was necessary—between them. The invisible icy shield he’d erected between them was quite enough. “Welcome home.”

She forced herself to look into his face. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She could not read the expression there, but couldn’t help noticing how the angles of his face seemed more sharply cut than before, his chin strong and defined.

“I’ll come straight to the point, if you don’t mind.”

As she stood quietly, waiting for him to continue, her gaze wandered to his mammoth rosewood desk. I want you bent over the desk in my study. Her cheeks felt hot at the memory of the duke’s words and her own answer. What if I told you I want those things as well? Unfortunately, she still wanted them, and him, in the worst way.

“About the evening of the ball,” he began.

She forced herself to appear calm and serene—at least outwardly. Inside, a jumble of nerves tightened painfully in her stomach. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“I acted reprehensively. I realize now that you may have felt that you had no choice in the matter. That certainly was not my intent.” He held himself very stiffly. “I took grievous advantage of your position in this house and for that I am truly contrite.”

It took a moment for her to register the meaning of his words. When she did, she could not have been more surprised. Of all the ways she’d imagined this scenario would play out, this one had never occurred to her. She could never have conceived that the duke might have enough of a conscience to feel guilty about what had occurred. “It was my choice,” she said softly.

His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“You did not force me. I participated fully. And willingly.”

“Thank God.” The tension seemed to flow out of his body. “When you fled, I feared the worst. I’ve been in knots about it since you left.”

The room went quiet for a moment. It seemed neither knew what to say next.

The duke cleared his throat. “I didn’t hurt you?”

She met his gaze and shook her head. “No, not at all. I…it was…very good.”

His brows rose. A powerful current of sensual energy arced between them. He took a step closer. It was all she could do not to close the distance between them and propel herself into his arms. It was as if a gale-force wind was at her back, urging her toward him.

But then she remembered what she’d witnessed their first evening back. The duke in his element, a place she would never belong, nor could she bear to be an occasional dalliance while he cavorted with other women. Her times with Ben, and then the girls, demonstrated that she was a woman who attached—and loved—deeply and strongly.

“However, given our present circumstances,” she said softly, “I think we both can agree that what occurred between us, while pleasant—”

“Pleasant,” he echoed.

“Very, very pleasant,” she acknowledged, and he smiled at that, a bit of mischief sparking in his beautiful eyes. “But I think we both comprehend that it cannot happen again.”

She watched that invisible icy shield harden around him. “If that is what you wish,” he said stiffly, “then, of course, that is how it will be.”

“You are a man who enjoys many women, as is your right.” She did not owe him an explanation, but she wanted no misunderstanding between them. “I cannot be one of them. I value myself too highly for that.”

“As well you should.” His expression gentled. “You are clearly a lady and should be treated as such. Things shall remain as they were before the very pleasant evening of the ball.”

She smiled at his gentle teasing and suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of them resuming an adversarial relationship. “Perhaps we can learn to be friends of a sort.”

“What a novel concept.” He seemed to roll the idea over in his head. “I’ve never had a female friend before…at least not in the way you suggest.”

“Maybe now would be a good time to try, Your Grace.”

“I should like that. Very much.” He paused. “My friends call me Sunny.”

She dipped her chin. “Sunny it is then.”

---

“You believe war taxes are inevitable.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Hector Booth, Sunny’s political advisor, stood with files in hand, watching as Sunny laid down the tiny planks that made up the polished wooden floor of Prudie’s doll’s house. They were in Sunny’s playroom, which of late served as his woodshop.

“Is there no other way to avoid huge loans and the ensuing interest payments that would burden the country?” Sunny asked.

“Pitt believes borrowing would leave an unmanageable national debt.”

Sunny lined up another tiny plank. “So the idea is to raise as much money as possible now, rather than borrowing as we go, in order to decrease the nation’s burden in the long term?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I’ve prepared a document outlining the issue.”

“Very well.” Sunny leaned back to inspect the flooring from a distance. “Leave the information, and I’ll take a look this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Once Booth departed, Sunny refocused all of his attention on his project. The innate pleasures of crafting something with his hands, of holding the wood and inhaling its scent, had all come back to him once he’d started building Prudie’s doll’s house. He found he’d retained much of what Jonas, the Parkthorn Hall carpenter, had taught him.

The work on the doll’s house certainly helped pass the days. Now that his nights were considerably shorter, Sunny was up earlier with more daylight hours to fill. Aside from twice weekly meetings with Booth, his political advisor, Sunny read both newspapers each morning and took more of an interest in running the multitude of properties that came with the dukedom. He also exercised daily, but ultimately spent most of his time working on Prudie’s doll’s house.

It was coming together beautifully. The woodworker he’d engaged had mounted the special trims, and he would soon engage artisans to paper the walls. After working for another couple of hours, once the flooring was down and he’d finished most of the staircase railing, Sunny decided to take a break.

A ruckus greeted him the moment he opened the door to find the twins racing up and down the corridor.

“Ahoy,” Patience called to her sister. “Quickly! Get on the ship before the pirates get you.”

Finch appeared and admonished the girls to be careful not to fall over the railing.

“A good sailor never goes overboard,” Patience announced to the governess, before cheekily adding, “Do you have permission to come aboard?”

Finch wore one of her terrible dresses with her hair pulled tight into a bun at her nape, but Sunny no longer saw her as plain. Now that he’d seen past her disguise, he had no trouble seeing the sensuous woman behind the façade.

Finch playfully wrapped her arms around the child and smothered her with kisses. “Here’s my permission to come aboard,” she said between kisses. “What do you think about that?”

Patience squealed and squirmed and pretended to protest, but it seemed to Sunny that she rather enjoyed the attention. Sunny couldn’t blame the girl. He wouldn’t mind being wrapped in Finch’s arms.

But he must keep his word and stay away from the governess, who’d made it plain that she had no intention of becoming one of his doxies. His attraction to her remained, but he’d contained it so that his desire for her was rather like the flame of a lantern turned so low that one hardly took notice of it, unless you touched it and realized how hotly it burned.

The two of them had reached something of a détente over the last fortnight. They’d managed to deal with each other in a courteous yet friendly manner. He’d even taken to accompanying Finch and the girls on the occasional outing. The nanny proved to be good company. She had a sharp mind and a wicked sense of humor that appealed to him…even if he couldn’t bed her.

At times, he found himself watching the way she smiled or bit her bottom lip whenever she concentrated, but he would catch himself and force himself to think of the latest ledger he’d perused, or the most recent news from the front—anything to keep from coming to a point in her presence. A cockstand between friends would never do.

Sunny came out of the playroom and closed the door behind him before turning the key in the lock.

Prudie spotted him. “Why are you locking the door?”

“To keep inquisitive little girls out.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Patience grasped the railing with one hand and leaned her body away from it. “I want to go on a ship. Have you ever been on a ship before, Duke?”

“Once or twice.” He turned his attention to the nanny. “Good day, Finch.”

“Your Grace.” She caught herself with a self-conscious smile. “Sunny.”

“I want to go on a ship,” Patience repeated.

“Me too,” Prudie said.

“I am in possession of a great many things,” Sunny said. “Unfortunately, a ship is not one of them.” As he spoke the last words, an idea came to him. Sunny turned to Finch. “I’d like to plan an outing with the children for tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened. “You would?”

“Would you mind if we take the girls in the afternoon after their lessons?”

“I have no objection. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a smile, feeling very pleased with himself. “You will see.”