The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Chapter Twenty-Four

“What?” Jenny could swear she had forgotten how to breathe just then.

“You want to know something more?” There was something harrowing in his eyes as he spoke. “She was with child and I killed that child, too.”

Vigorously shaking her head, she reached a hand toward him. “No, Nicholas, that can’t be. She died in the fire.”

“Because I could not save her.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that. And what has this to do with our marriage?”

“Everything.” He shrunk from her touch and stood. “I destroy things, Jenny. I don’t want to destroy you, too.”

“I don’t believe that,” she insisted, jumping to her feet and going after him when he went toward the door.

“Don’t,” he called firmly. “Don’t come after me. This conversation is over.” He walked out and closed the door shut, leaving her unable to completely fathom what had just happened.

Nicholas blamed himself for his mother’s death and it was in the way of their marriage even though she could not understand how. Jenny solemnly walked back to the sitting area and sat down, a painful sigh pushing its way out of her lungs. She felt utterly lost and helpless. His want of intervention rang louder than the church bells in town but she had no inkling of how to help him.

Someone knocked at the door; it was Bentley. “Your Grace, Mr. Brighton is downstairs.”

“I shall be right down,” she replied, rising from her chair and walking into Nicholas’s dressing room where she splashed some cold water on her face.

It helped calm her down. Although she could share what disquieted her with Ernest, she was disinclined to. This was her burden to bear with Nicholas and the less anyone knew about it, the better. She had a smile on her face when she appeared in the drawing room where Ernest was waiting.

“I see your husband is well and back to being his noble surly self. I met him in the foyer on his way to his study and he barely stopped to greet me.”

“Yes, well, the fever has not been kind to him.”

Ernest shook his head. “Poor fellow.” He smiled at Jenny, then. “How are you?”

“I am well, Ernest.”

“Wonderful! Do you have anything I can eat? I am quite famished.”

One of the things that endeared Ernest to her was his ability to make her laugh even when she was in a bad mood. “Careful, Ernest, for I am starting to believe food is the only thing that brings you to this house.”

“You wound me, Jenny.” He clutched his heart in a show of feigned affront.

“You are just in time for luncheon,” she said, glancing at the clock.

“Perfect.” He rubbed his hands together with delight. “Will Nicholas be joining us?”

“He has to,” she heard herself say as she decided right then to ensure he ate with her and Ernest. If Ernest had not called, she would have eaten alone, feeling sorry for herself. “I’ll get him now.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she approached her husband’s study, not out of fear but out of apprehension and uncertainty. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked on his door. “Yes?” He called.

That was all the encouragement she needed to turn the door handle and step in. He set down the quill in his hand and looked up at her, not saying anything. “I thought you would give yourself several more days before you begin work again.” She said that more to ease the concentrated tension between them.

“I am well enough to work.” He linked his hands together, waiting for her to speak.

“Ernest is here,” she said.

“Yes, I saw him.”

“And it’s time for luncheon.”

He glanced at the clock. “I am aware.”

“I came to ask you to join us.”

Wordlessly, he pushed back his chair and stood. Her brows rose. “You look surprised.” A tiny smile played at one corner of his mouth.

“I thought you were going to dissent, insisting you have your meal here while you brood.”

“That was my plan, my little wife.” He offered her his arm. “But I realized that I probably owe you an apology.”

“Probably?”

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Forgive me. I regret the way I spoke to you earlier.”

“I accept your apology.” They appeared to have made a truce right then and that pleased Jenny. I will give him time, she decided, and then I will act. This was not how a marriage should be and she was determined to change it.

* * *

"Hello, Ernest," Jenny said from the drawing room doorway. Since receiving Ernest’s note some days ago, informing her of his intention to call, Jenny had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

No, her smile had little to do with the message he had mentioned he would be bearing and more to do with her plans to help her dearest friend find a husband. “Always a pleasure to see you.” He bowed over her hand. “Forgive me. My cousin’s illness delayed my conveyance of the message and then I had to leave town for a week.”

“You need not apologize, Ernest.” She sat down, wondering what the message was and from whom. He began to reach into his coat pocket but paused and looked up toward the door before standing. A smile played in his eyes and Jenny grinned.

“Daphne,” she called, contriving to sound truly surprised, “what a pleasant surprise.” Jenny had invited Daphne for tea as soon as she learned of the time of Ernest’s visit. "We were just about to have tea. Cook made some salmon and cheese sandwiches. Your favorite." She picked up the teapot from the tea service that had been brought in before Ernest’s arrival and began to pour.

“I can never decline a salmon and cheese sandwich,” Daphne admitted, giving Jenny a puzzled look. She was unaware of the reason Jenny had invited her here today.

"A woman after my own heart," Ernest said to Daphne, retaking his seat after her. "I have quite the appetite for these, too." He did not need an invitation to help himself to one of the sandwiches on the platter and then raised it in Daphne’s direction as if in toast.

"I suppose that is another thing we have in common, Mr. Brighton." Daphne slightly colored up. The question was still present in her eyes when she glanced at Jenny.

“My, the list keeps growing.” He grinned, popping the whole sandwich into his mouth.

"It is good to have things in common with one," Jenny said, amused. “It is how great friendships are forged.”

Ernest’s eyes snapped up and his hand froze midway as he raised his teacup to his lips. A wary look appeared on his face and he cleared his throat. Jenny would have to employ more subtlety so as not to arouse his suspicion. The less he knew about her efforts to match him with Daphne, the higher the chances of him succumbing would be.

He sipped his tea and after setting his cup back down, he reached into his coat pocket. “I nearly forgot about the reason I am here. Sir Phineas wants you to have this.” He removed a small book and proffered it to her. “He mentioned how difficult seeing you has become since you got married."

"I am home on most days,” she said, accepting the book. He could always call upon me."

"Yes, well..." Ernest trailed off, looking somewhat sheepish. It appeared as though there was something he was not telling her.

"My house is always open to my friends," she added, glancing down at the title of the book over dark green leather.

"I doubt your husband considers him as one of your friends."

"Nonsense!" Jenny dismissed it despite knowing that Ernest was right. "I choose my own friends. Not Nicholas."

"Try telling him that." That came from Daphne; she had been occupied with the tea and sandwiches until now.

"I see you know my cousin now, Miss Bexley." Ernest chuckled in approval, distracting Jenny from thoughts of Nicholas controlling whom she was friends with.

"Daphne," she corrected. "If we are going to be sharing salmon and cheese sandwiches, then you might as well call me Daphne."

If it were up to me, the two of you would be sharing more than just sandwiches,Jenny thought to herself but did not dare give voice to her thoughts for fear of Ernest running out the door and never looking back. He had expressed, on countless occasions, his disinterest in putting his neck through the sacred noose. She knew just how capable of rejecting Daphne he was even if he was attracted to her.

What is it with these men rejecting women?Ernest and Nicholas were very alike in that regard.

An easy conversation carried on until Ernest and Daphne reached for the last piece of sandwich on the plate at the same time. They looked up at each other, each ostensibly determined to not relinquish it until the arrival of Bentley in the doorway brought their little contest to an end.

Ernest withdrew his hand and a very smug-looking Daphne ate the sandwich. As the butler began to make an announcement, the caller walked in, cane first. Daphne began to choke on her sandwich.