Hollis handed over another drink.“You did your best, my friend. Hell, you did more than your best. I cannot imagine myself ever acting so damned foolish over any one woman. She doesn’t deserve you.”
Chance stared at the amber liquid in his glass. He doubted alcohol could numb his pain. He doubted anything could.
“I sent Edwards ahead of me. I’ll follow on Guinevere in a day or so.” Chance had not decided when he, himself, would depart forSecours. He’d leave London soon enough. When he was ready. For now, every step felt like quicksand. A fog had consumed the air, and Chance had difficulty focusing.
“What you need is to get right back on your horse.”
Chance turned and stared at Hollis with a frown. “I’ll ride home soon enough. Guinevere is in your stables at the moment.”
“Good God, that’s not the kind of riding I’m referring to. Has she ruined you completely?” Hollis pulled the bell pull in the room and his butler instantly appeared. “Bring round the coach. His Grace and I are going to spend the evening on the town.”
Chance was shaking his head but Hollis ignored him.
“I refuse to take no for an answer. What you need, old man, is a tempting armful to plough. We’ll make our way to Madam Carlotta’s, eh? Get you ape drunk and then you can lick your wounds with some bird of paradise.”
Chance wasn’t interested, but neither did he have the will to argue. What did it matter anyway? He’d lost.
Hell, he hadn’t been with a woman in over two years. He’d find some buxom young thing—a brunette or a blonde— he reminded himself. No more auburn-haired vixens.
An hour later, lounging on a red velvet chaise, he sat with one of each in his lap. Pretty he supposed, as he poured an amber-colored liquid down his gullet. Didn’t really matter what he consumed at this point. All of it tasted the same.
Would it be the same with the women?
“Which of us would you prefer, sir? Or would you like to take us both into one of the rooms.” The brunette beauty pouted.
At the same time, wet kisses trailed along his other ear, and then along his jaw.
Which did he prefer? It didn’t matter. Hell and damnation. In answer, he shrugged.
“Ah, we’ll take good care of you, mister? Are you really a duke? You’re far too handsome to be a duke.” The blonde giggled as her hand trailed past his waistband along his breeches to settle on his cock. It jumped. It liked that. Apparently, Aubrey hadn’t completely emasculated him after all.
Chance turned his head and accepted the Dark-haired girl’s kiss. She tasted of some spice he couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t… unpleasant… necessarily, but it certainly wasn’t the taste he’d hoped for.
The blonde tasted of smoke and wine. Chance broke the kiss and closed his eyes. The two ladies did not seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm.
“Poor thing, your wife probably doesn’t use her mouth on you, or pleasure you as we can.”
“Wife?” Chance barely mumbled. His limbs were mostly numb, and the room seemed to be spinning around him.
One of the girls took hold of his hand. “This ‘ere ring means you’re married, don’t it?”
Chance opened his eyes and stared down at his hand. The ring Aubrey had thought she’d paid for in Joseph’s Well.
The ring…
Something about the ring bothered him.
And then it hit him. He sat forward and none too gently pushed the girls away.
“Say? What’s your problem? You want to go upstairs?”
But Chance would not be going upstairs tonight. Not with a blonde, not with a brunette, and most definitely not with one of each.
Aubrey had been wearinghis ringwhen he’d made love to her on the worktable in the hot house. On her left hand.
Had Cline been lying to him?
She still loved Chance. She would not have allowed him to love her as he had if she was in love with another man.
