Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter Twenty-Five
Asudden knock on the door had him looking up from the papers he’d been reading on his desk. Benedict frowned, rubbing at his head as he bid whoever was outside of his study to come in.
The door immediately swung open and in strolled Mortimer.
“Ahh, there you are,” his friend declared, striding toward the desk and sitting himself down in one of the chairs opposite Benedict. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gone ahead and left for America without telling me, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
In truth, it had only been a few days, but Mortimer did enjoy exaggeration. Benedict rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “I’ve been just a bit preoccupied caring for my wife,” he said.
“And how is the Duchess?” Mortimer asked, his voice taking on a serious tone. “I had heard she was on bedrest.”
Benedict nodded. “Yes, the pregnancy has not been easy on her so far, and so the doctor ordered her to stay in bed. She’s growing agitated already, though. Bored, mostly. There’s only so much that can be done to entertain someone in her state.” Then, Benedict frowned as a realization dawned on him. “How do you know any of this, anyway? I haven’t seen you in nearly a week, so it didn’t come from me.”
Mortimer scratched at his chin, a little smile playing about his lips. “Ah, well…I actually heard about it from Miss Ferguson, if you must know.”
Benedict arched a brow. “Miss Ferguson? Miranda’s friend?”
“The one and the same.”
“Are you courting her?” Benedict couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. The very idea of Mortimer pursuing a woman in that way seemed unbelievable.
“I suppose I am,” Mortimer shrugged, acting nonchalant, but Benedict could see something in his expression that betrayed how much he obviously liked Miss Ferguson.
“Do you intend to marry her?” Benedict asked, unable to help himself. This was just so out of character for his friend…although, he supposed his own relationship with Miranda was rather out of his own character as well.
Mortimer was silent for several long moments, as though he were considering the question carefully. At length, he finally answered, “If I were to marry anyone, it would most certainly be her.”
Benedict supposed that was the best he would get from Mortimer until he decided for certain if he wanted to settle down with her. “If you were to marry her, would you be faithful?”
Mortimer furrowed his brow, looking somewhat baffled by the question. “Do you intend to be faithful to the Duchess?” he asked, clearly avoiding answering himself.
Benedict nodded without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”
Mortimer’s brows shot up. “Really? Goodness, Man, you must really love this woman.”
Chuckling, Benedict steepled his fingers and replied, “I do, actually. I’m rather crazy for my wife, truth be told.”
“I must say, I feel as though as I should be surprised…but I’m not in the least,” Mortimer admitted.
“Oh, really? Why not?” Benedict was curious as to his answer, especially since they had both been indulging in the same type of lifestyle.
Mortimer chuckled. “It was obvious. Whenever you were around her, the look in your eyes was sickeningly adoring. Even if you didn’t mean to, you were making it clear that you were lost for the Duchess.”
Benedict stared at his friend with wide, stunned eyes. He’d had no idea he’d been so obvious in revealing his affection for Miranda. In truth, he hadn’t realized just how much he loved her for most of their marriage so far.
“Well, you could have told me how I felt for her,” he said with a snort. “It would have made things far easier for me these last few weeks.”
“While I’m certain that’s true, it wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining.” Mortimer let out a laugh that had Benedict rolling his eyes.
The two fell into a companiable silence, no doubt each considering the unexpected turns their lives had taken. Benedict was certainly thinking about that, at least. And now, it wasn’t going to be just him and Miranda. There was a baby to consider.
As if Mortimer could sense his thoughts, he suddenly asked, “How do you feel about becoming a father? I know you’d always planned on it, out of necessity for the sake of your title, but now that it’s actually happening…how do you feel?”
Benedict scratched at his chin before confessing, “I’m not sure. I’m excited, on the one hand. The idea of having a child with Miranda makes me happier than I could imagine. However, I do have some trepidation regarding my role as a father. I didn’t have the best example growing up, as you know.”
“That’s true, unfortunately,” Mortimer sighed. “However, you could say that your father provided excellent examples of what you shouldn’t do as a father.”
“I hadn’t considered that. That’s actually not a bad perspective to have.”
Still, even if he knew what not to do, that didn’t make it any clearer what he should do. He only hoped that Miranda would be able to help him as they took on their roles as parents, guiding him along the way as they learned to care for their child together.
Mortimer opened his mouth, as if to say more, but a sudden knock on the door cut him off before he could speak. “Come in,” Benedict called out.
The door opened, and to his surprise, his mother strolled into the room. She arched a brow when she saw that Mortimer was present, and as both men pushed to their feet to bow to her, she offered him a nod of acknowledgement. “Lord Dunlop,” she said by way of greeting.
“Your Grace,” he replied with a half-grin.
Having finished her polite and obligated exchange with Mortimer, she turned her attention to Benedict. “How is the Duchess this morning?” she asked, catching him off guard a bit.
Benedict blinked. “Oh…I didn’t realize you cared, Mother.”
She let out an exasperated huff. “Well of course I care. She is carrying my grandchild and the heir to the Dukedom. It’s important that her health be monitored closely. A hard pregnancy can often end in tragedy, you know.”
He nodded, annoyed at the reminder. “I’m aware, Mother. We’re trying not to dwell on that overly much, though.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, things don’t always work out how you hope they will. That’s why you must be extra vigilant with her.”
Benedict was struggling to keep up with his mother’s apparent change of heart regarding Miranda. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t necessarily that she cared for his wife, but the baby she carried. It wasn’t a stretch to guess that once the baby was born, the Dowager would go right back to treating Miranda poorly.
That is something I’ll have to address before that happens. If she cannot treat Miranda with respect, then we can find new accommodations for her.
That was a discussion they could have another day, however. In the meantime, he was determined to maintain as peaceful a household as possible so that Miranda wasn’t put under unnecessary stress. Having his mother explode with temper because he threatened to make her leave the Manor would not make for a quiet and relaxing environment.
“Mother, I can assure you that we are taking the utmost care of Miranda,” Benedict said with a sigh. “I won’t let anything happen to her, or to the baby.”
“See that you don’t,” his mother snapped. “And I would advise that you don’t visit your brothels as usual, either. At least until the Duchess has given birth. I know that it upsets her when you abandon her for them.”
Benedict furrowed his brow and glared at her. “I haven’t visited a brothel since Miranda and I married.”
She arched a brow. “Oh, really? I know that you weren’t with her on your wedding night. If you weren’t at a brothel, then where were you?”
He stared at her in shock for several long moments, too baffled to say anything right away.
At length, he managed to choke out, “Where in the world did you get that idea? How did you even now I wasn’t with Miranda that night?”
His mother rolled her eyes. “Oh, please Benedict. I know everything that transpires within this house. Nothing escapes my notice, as much as you’d like to think you’re able to get away with things.”
He clenched his teeth in irritation. Yet another reason to consider a new residence for the Dowager.
“If you must know, I was with Mortimer here, drinking scotch and feeling sorry for myself,” Benedict growled. Then, a startling thought entered his mind. “Does Miranda believe that as well?”
His mother shrugged, but a small smirk played about her lips, telling him everything he needed to know already.
“I don’t know why she wouldn’t think that,” his mother replied. “She knows your character well enough. If you didn’t bother to correct her thinking, I don’t see why she wouldn’t believe that you were with another woman that night.”
Benedict hadn’t considered that possibility before. As much as he hated to admit it, though, his mother was likely right. He managed not to let his eyes close with a low groan.
It was a miracle Miranda had bothered to give him another chance. He’d done nothing but make poor choices since the moment they’d been married. He vowed to himself that he would make it up to her, no matter what it took.
“Are you telling me this because you wish to cause trouble, Mother?” he asked in a sharp voice. “Or do you actually care about the state of my marriage?”
“I care about the state of your marriage in so far as it proves useful to the Dukedom,” she answered with her usual brutal honesty. “Once it stops being useful, I’ll no longer care.”
“Why don’t you like Miranda?” Benedict demanded to know, slamming his fist down on his desk with more force than he’d really meant to use. “What has she done to deserve your scorn?”
His mother’s expression darkened. “That’s none of your concern, Benedict. I’d thank you not to pry into my personal business, especially when we have company present.”
As if she gave one wit about Mortimer and his opinions of her. Benedict knew his mother thought his friend, a mere Viscount, was so far beneath her he might as well have been invisible at that moment.
“It’s my concern because it has to do with my wife.” He didn’t understand her reasoning for not telling him. It didn’t make any sense to him.
She lifted her chin, her expression turning stubborn. “Well, you’ll have to make peace with the fact that it is my business, and mine alone.”
Benedict shared a look with Mortimer, who looked just as confused as he felt. Turning his attention back to the Dowager, Benedict began, “Mother, I think you should–”
“All I came into say to you was to care for your wife, for the baby’s sake,” she curtly said, cutting him off. “I have said what I needed to say, and so I shall leave you to your…company.”
Before Benedict could say a word to stop her, she turned on her heel and marched out the study door, letting it slam shut behind her.
Benedict looked toward Mortimer, who arched a brow at him with a shrug. “That was odd,” his friend said.
“Indeed,” Benedict agreed. His mother wasn’t one to hold back her opinions, and rarely stopped herself from speaking her mind. The fact that she refused to tell him exactly why she didn’t like Miranda was…troubling.
Mortimer released a sigh. “I don’t envy you, My Friend. I really don’t. Your mother is…intense.”
Benedict snorted. “That’s one way to put it. Her behavior is rather odd, though. It’s as though she’s keeping something secret from me. Something having to do with Miranda.”
“It does seem that way, I would agree,” Mortimer nodded. “Do you have any theories as to what she could be hiding from you?”
With a shake of his head, Benedict answered, “Not in the least. I suppose the reason itself doesn’t really matter, though. I’ve all but decided that if she can’t treat Miranda with more respect in the future, then we’ll have to find her a residence of her own.”
Mortimer’s brows shot up in obvious surprise. “Indeed? Goodness, Man, I wasn’t sure you’d ever have the backbone for such a thing.”
“Yes, well, I have more than myself to consider now, don’t I? Miranda needs to feel comfortable here, in her home, and if mother is a reason that she doesn’t feel that way, then I’ll simply have to take steps to alleviate my wife’s discomfort.”
Mortimer looked almost impressed at Benedict’s words.
“My, my, my, what a brave new world we find ourselves in, My Friend,” Mortimer laughed. “The two of us, on the verge of being tamed from our wild ways, and you taking a stand against the Dowager instead of giving into her demands just to bring her nagging to an end. I believe this is what some people would call growth of character.”
Benedict joined in on his friend’s laughter, but he actually felt there was some truth to the idea. He didn’t feel like the same man he’d been before reuniting with Miranda. Before, he’d been an aimless bachelor, chasing the next great pleasure, though never finding a place to settle and put down roots.
He didn’t think this would be possible with anyone but Miranda. If he believed in such a thing as fate, he might have thought he and Miranda were fated for each other. He wasn’t such a fanciful thinker usually, but he couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to his wife.
“Whatever it is, I think it’s for the best,” Benedict said in response to Mortimer. “I think it’s beyond time for us to grow up some, don’t you?”
His friend nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you could be right…but that doesn’t mean all of our fun is over, does it?”
Benedict smiled, thinking of Miranda and all the adventures that he thought they could possibly have together. He was quite certain that their life would be far from boring, because Miranda was simply too full of life and passion.
“No, My Friend,” Benedict said at length. “In fact, I’m fairly certain that there is much more fun ahead of us than we can possibly know right now.”
Mortimer appeared pleased by that answer. “Yes, I suppose that could be the case. It certainly helps that we haven’t chosen boring women.”
Benedict nodded. “You’re right. They are far from boring.”
In fact, when he thought about what his life had been before Miranda, he was left with a rather empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It almost seemed as though that time hadn’t really meant anything to him, and he’d only been waiting for the day when she would return to him and invigorate his life once more.
