“Hollis!” Chance waved to his friend who showed no reluctance or discrimination for that matter, on who he’d end the night with. “I’m leaving. I need to go...” But whereas the world had been spinning slowly before, it suddenly leapt and then tilted from side to side.
Where did he need to go? The room dimmed. Who did he need to see?
He dropped back onto the chaise and the last thing he remembered was a woman with golden hair––or was it auburn?––cradling his face between her bosoms and straddling him…
“Aubrey,Princesse…” Consciousness stole away as Chance slipped into the abyss.
* * *
Knives stabbed his head.Chance squeezed his eyes tightly together and groaned.
Which was a mistake. The sound reverberated through his brain.
Familiar laughter sounded from a distance.
“You’re a sorry specimen of English nobility,Your Grace.”
God damn Hollis. Chance managed to open one eye halfway. Intense sunshine slanted through the tall windows that made up one wall of the study at Hyde Park Place.
God damn Hollis. Standing there, pressed and dressed as though he was going to his own wedding today.
Wedding.
The word pricked at his memory. He was not married any longer. He was a widower now.“This ‘ere ring means you’re married, don’t it?”
Something one of the women had said last night. Chance reached down and rubbed his thumb along the well-worn metal of the ring he’d worn for just over two years.
He’d worn it on his right hand for most of the time. When he’d retrieved it after throwing it away, he’d moved it back to his left hand.
Chance sat up.
Aubrey had been wearing her ring on her left hand.
On her left hand! On the finger nearest her pinky.
Did that mean anything? It had to! Surely if she’d intended to marry Cline, she would have removed his, Chance’s, ring? Wouldn’t she?
“I need to go.” Chance uttered to himself.
Something wasn’t right. HisPrincessewould not tie herself to a person who didn’t love Lancelot. Not that Lancelot was the most adorable of pets, except in Aubrey’s eyes, but because… he was essentially her child. Aubrey would not give her dog up.
“I need to go to her house.” Chance stood up and the world swam, his stomach lurched, and if Hollis not had a large bowl handy, Chance would have embarrassed himself something awful.
God damn drink. “Hell.” He spat into the container afterward and dropped back onto the sofa.
“What day is it?” And where the hell was a handkerchief when a man needed one.
“I’d imagine they’re on the road by now. It’s after noon.” Hollis placed a square of linen in Chance’s hand. “You can’t go anywhere that way.”
But he would. He pushed himself to stand again, slower this time, and wiped his mouth. Surely, she hadn’t actually left with him. And God help him if she did.
“I need to check on Lancelot.”
“Who the hell is Lancelot?” The disgust and confusion in his friend’s’ voice was almost enough to give Chance cause to laugh.
“Her dog.”
* * *
