Page 13 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

I will sleep with a man I know nothing of.

I will be forever separated from the man I truly long for.

Why didn’t he just claim me as his? Why couldn’t Norhaven just love me enough to make me a bride?

“Charles.” His name slips from my lips like a mantra as I shove my way into the bedroom.

If only he loved me enough.

Chapter 6

Charles

I pace the foyer as my family files out and looks at me, their gazes pitying and pathetic, as if they know the turmoil rioting inside. There is nothing to say to them, nothing that would not incriminate me or put a scandal on Miss Campbell’s name. And so I pace and stew, unwilling to give them any recourse or respite to my coming and goings.

Mother, of course, steps away from my sisters and lays a hand on my arm, forcing me to stop. “Dear one,” she murmurs. “Fret not about Miss Campbell. I’m sure she’s merely anxious about her upcoming marriage. I would be too if I were that age again and thrust into this situation with a stranger. Give her time. She’ll come about.”

Yes, but her coming about would be her in my arms, her led about Hyde Park with me taking her to and fro, showing her off to everyone else. There is no coming about, not while Henhaven still plans to meet her at the altar.

“Come,” she cajoles once more. “Will you have dessert with us?”

“No, Mother. I find this is the perfect excuse to take my leave. I still have much to attend to.” Leaning over, I give her a soft kiss on the cheek, catching the soft, wistful sigh slipping from her lips. “I promise, Mother. All is well.”

At least it will be once I drag Henhaven over the coals for all of London to see. Nodding at my sisters, I exit the house and make a fast gait toward my carriage. There has to be something to unearth. Men don’t have power like this without some form of corruption along the way. Vices, needs, longings, addictions, something.

Instead of going home, I go to the one place I might get answers more efficiently. Though I have not run into him at the Rose and Thorne, it doesn’t mean he isn’t a visitor. A lot can be said about a man and how he handles women in such vulnerable positions.

As the carriage pulls around back of the whipping house, I knock on the front door, giving Jeremy a smile as he lets me in. “Have you somehow grown bigger?” I ask as I shove past his bulk. “More to the point, are you sure you’re only just a beta?”

He gives me that wide grin of his and says nothing. Fine, he can keep his secrets tonight. His don’t matter to me.

The air is thick with perfume, incense, and the scent of women going about, offering their services to those drinking and gambling. Glancing at the faces, I take note of who’s here, or rather, who isn’t. No sign of Henhaven. Could be he’s already in the back rooms with his woman of choice for the night.

Off to the side, Arlo Mathews, Duke of Dunton, stands near the fireplace, his eyes scanning the scene just as intently as I do. Who could he be looking for? A niggle of disgust winds through my heart as he grabs one of the omegas and takes her in the back. Why the good madam still allows him to play here is beyond me.

My heart drops a little as I continue to seek out who I know. Not all that long ago, it was my brother, my friends, my chosen family, all here to play and gather. Now, it’s just me. The only one left unmarried.

Shaking my head, I dispel that morose line of thinking and weave my way through the men, watching as they gamble and grouse. Madame Douleur should be here somewhere. Until then, I drag myself over to a game of piquet and watch as Jonathan Holmes, Viscount of Kincaster, and Emmanuel Burke, Baron of Ilmoor play.

“Joining us, Norhaven?” Kincaster calls out as he shuffles the cards.

“I prefer to watch this time.”

The two laugh as they turn to me. “That’s right. You do like to watch, don’t you?” Ilmoor chuckles.

Ignoring their jibes, I lean against the table and rest my chin in the crook between my thumb and forefinger. “Interesting about the banns today,” I murmur.

“What, because they were actually called?” Kincaster smirks. “It seems as though all your friends had to get special licenses. Truly, this is an oddity.”

“Yes… well… Be that as it may, I didn’t expect to hear Henhaven’s name called.”

They both set down their cards and look over at me before Ilmoor clears his throat. “Why not? He’s an affable enough fellow. Well, what little I see of him in Parliament.”

“Affable, I suppose,” I reply. “But truly, what sort of man is he?”

“Why do you care?” Kincaster retorts. “Looking to bag him yourself? Is the great Charles Barrington a molly?”

Though he teases, I can’t help the flash of fear that runs cold down my spine. “Don’t even jest about such things. You know the law.”