How in the bloody hell had his cousin managed to get his wife with child? It was no secret among thetonthat he only married the woman for her dowry. But there was no undoing the laws of primogeniture, no matter how many times their grandfather threatened Richard. He could not remove him from the dukedom.
As a reckless young man, Richard wanted to be disowned, to have nothing to do with the retched title. Then he had joined Parliament with Aberdeen, and suddenly his life had meaning. He could do something, something his father nor his grandfather ever did. Richard would make a difference, and he did.
The heavy footsteps of his butler intruded on his thoughts. Richard knew he should be sterner on his servants, but the constant struggle was a challenge that he enjoyed.
“The Earl of Hendershot, Your Grace,” Barrington said a little too cheerfully. No doubt his friend had told the butler a joke.
“Send him in. Harris, you may go.” He turned around, looking at the overweight man who tried to shrink within himself. “Next time you return, I expect you to have confirmation from a doctor or word from Lady Musgrave on when she plans to move in.” The words came out of him like a growl.
Of course, he did not want the widow to live with him, but what choice did he have? Richard needed to uncover the truth and he would do so, no matter the cost.
A rage that he hadn’t felt in years filled him. His hands shook as he took another sip of the liquid, feeling its effect the more he drank.
He heard the door close, and then his friend’s boisterous voice flowed throughout the room. “There you are! As your closest friend, I’ve come to ask for a favor,” Hendershot called out, and Richard could hear the other man fall to the sofa.
“Aberdeen is closer to me,” Richard said, turning to face Hendershot, whom he also stood taller than.
His second-closest friend, the Earl of Hendershot, was a tall, lean gentleman, with a shocking head full of bright-red hair, clear evidence of his Scottish heritage on his mother’s side.
“That is beside the point.” Hendershot leaned back, staring unnervingly at Richard. “I still need a favor.”
Deciding to join his friend, Richard walked over and sat on the adjoining side of the sofa, trying to ignore the hole in the pit of his stomach. “What favor?” he asked, knowing that whatever the other man wanted was in Richard’s best interest.
“Kitty is having a party.”
“Absolutely not. I will not assist you in your foolish quest to court the most sought-after courtesan in London.” Richard finished his drink, folding his leg over his knee.
“It’s not foolish. Kitty is meant for me. She just enjoys her freedom,” Hendershot said, adjusting himself on the sofa.
“Do her other lovers know she is meant for you?” Richard sat his glass on the small table in front of the sofa. “Besides, you’ve been chasing her for months, and she has not succumbed to your seduction. Perhaps you should find a suitable wife of theton.”
“Like you did with Esther?” Hendershot challenged him, a red forelock falling into his green eyes.
Richard rose, glaring at his friend. “Do not say her name.” He pointed at his friend, not wanting to think about Esther and her fake charm.
The comment hit a wound. But he, Hendershot, and Aberdeen were all friends for a reason. They never became cross with the other, and he knew his friend did not mean to serve a deadly blow, perhaps just a maiming one.
“I was only stating a point. That once even you were ready to throw propriety to the wind.”
“I would never have married her.” It was true he would not have, but he had allowed her to deceive him.
Hendershot leaned over, resting his arm on the sofa. “Come with me. Forget yourself for the first time in years.”
The comment was another blow to Richard’s fragile sense of self-worth. The events of his life a year earlier had completely changed him. It was true; he had not indulged in the darker side of society as he once had.
Richard stood, needing another drink. This would be his last, he decided. This was not him; he would not let the bleakness and despair weigh him down. To do so would allow his cousin to best him, even in death.
“Since when do you drink during the day?” Hendershot asked, as Richard poured three fingers instead of two.
If this was his last one today, he’d make it a good one.
His shoulders slumped, still not believing the news the solicitor had delivered. Richard was positive that both his grandfather and cousin were laughing at him from the depths of hell.
“She’s with child.”
Richard began striding back toward the sofa.
“Is she?” His friend sounded surprised by the news. That made two of them. “Is it Musgrave’s or one of her other benefactors?”
