Lucian frowned. Mrs. Howard had never reprimanded him. She’d never had to. This was the most disapproving thing she’d ever said to him. Point taken.
“Very well,” he replied, expelling his breath. Heshouldsay something in way of greeting to Gemma. “Where is the duchess?”
“She’s gone out for the afternoon.”
“Mm.” Lucian had already turned away and was headed around the side of the desk to take a seat. He had much to get to. “I shall speak with her later then.”
He’d expected Mrs. Howard to leave, but when her shadow remained in the doorway several moments later, he glanced over. “Yes, Mrs. Howard? Is there something else?”
Mrs. Howard folded her hands together and inclined her head. “Ahem. There is…something you should know.”
Lucian stopped sorting through the post. “Yes?”
“The duchess has become…quite a favorite of the servants.”
Lucian frowned. “In what way?”
“She, uh, plays cards with the footmen on Tuesdays and has tea with the maids on Sundays.”
Lucian blinked at her. A duchess? Playing cards with the footmen? He’d never heard of such a thing. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Mrs. Howard. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, Your Grace,” she said, clearing her throat. “You misunderstand me. I mention this not to indicate it is a problem. But to let you know how verybelovedHer Grace is in this household. Mr. Warwick and I don’t know what we’d do without her.” With that, the housekeeper turned and exited the study, leaving Lucian to stare after her in wonder. If he didn’t mistake his guess, he’d just been taken to task for the treatment of his wife and then warned that the servants were on the duchess’s side. Good God. He’d clearly been gone too long. Had his entire household descended into chaos?
Regardless, he’d see Gemma at dinner. He would ask after her health. Ask after her health and then inform her of the decisions he’d made about their future while he’d been gone. There was no reason they couldn’t be civil to each other and live separate lives as they’d already learned to do in the last fifteen months. It would all be quite tidy. And thetonwouldn’t suspect they were anything but happy. A marriage exactly like his parents had.
Hopefully, his wife had matured in the last year. Perhaps she was no longer as dramatic or as eager to argue. He could only hope she’d changed. But even if she hadn’t, Lucian intended to succinctly inform her how their marriage would be from now on. She would simply have to accept it.
Meantime, he would see to this mountainous stack of correspondence and then he would go to his club. The long travel had been hell. He needed a drink, and he looked forward to catching up on the latest news about London, about Parliament, and about his friends’ lives. There would be plenty of time to deal with Gemma later.
O
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Later That Afternoon, Brooks’s Club
Lucian sat in a large leather chair, wedged between half a dozen of his friends, with a marked frown on his face. He’d spent the better part of the last hour being regaled by story after story about his wife.
It had all begun innocently enough. He’d arrived at the club to find several of his old friends lounging about. One of them had offered to buy him a drink. The others had gathered round to welcome him back, and now he was sitting in the middle of a storytelling session, and Gemma was the protagonist ofevery single one.
“It’s a good thing you’re back, Grovemont,” Lord Hightower said with his deep chuckle.
“Why’s that?” Lucian grumbled, already dreading the answer. It was certain to have something to do with Gemma’s popularity. That had been the theme of all the stories so far. His wife. His beautiful, popular, beloved-by-everyone wife. Apparently, they called her the belle of thetonnow. In addition to having befriended all of his servants, Gemma had alsoapparently charmed all of Society. What was left? The King’s court?
“I daresay your wife’s had more marriage proposals than this year’s crop of debutantes combined.” The older man laughed heartily at his own words.
“What?” Lucian scrubbed a frustrated hand across his brow. How was that possible? “She’s married tome. She cannot entertain marriage proposals,” he shot back.
“Perhaps, but more than one chap has been hoping your ship got lost at sea, if you know what I mean,” Lord Bellingham added with an annoying wink and an even more grating laugh.
“We’ve all been wagering on when you’d come back. Surely, you’d heard?” Lord Markham added.
“Heard what?” Lucian hadn’t heard anything, of course. And these fools should know it.
“How gorgeous your wife has become. You should know she’s had a least a half dozen offers from gentlemen to take a lover,” Lord Markham continued, significantly lowering his voice on that last bit.
“The duchess’s dance card is never empty, that’s for certain,” Lord Hargate added.
Lucian’s fingers curled into a fist, and he eyed them all with supreme distaste. So far he had been able to glean that apparently, Gemma, his tall, coltish wife, who’d been too thin and too awkward, had turned into a great beauty.
