Page 33 of Duke with a Deception
Blast Riverdale. Yes, Verity was his sister, but she was now King’s wife. Who did he think he was to intrude upon King’s household and refuse to leave?
“Are you certain we cannot be rid of him by any means, fair or foul?” he growled, irritated by the intrusion.
King wanted to enjoy his new bride, damn it. He didn’t want the reminder of what he’d had to lose to gain her, or the carefully orchestrated deceptions he’d had to engage in. He didn’t want Riverdale meddling or otherwise trying to sow discontent. Because surely that was his reason for calling, was it not? What could he hope to gain?
“Perhaps it would be best for you to meet with His Grace,” Hutchens suggested.
“A timely release of kitchen mice in the drawing room,” King considered. “Or perhaps a visit from Mrs. Sendall’s old flatulent dog would do. Feed the mongrel a joint of beef first and then set him free.”
It still rather stung that the housekeeper’s deaf old mongrel had outlived King’s own beloved Spy, who had seemingly been in impeccable shape until he’d grown ill. King blinked furiously to dismiss the burning in his eyes at the reminder of his canine companion, gone too soon. The dog was buried in the gardens beneath a statue King had commissioned for just such a purpose after Spy’s death.
Yes, Riverdale having to attend to Dash’s stinking clouds would be most amusing.
“Perhaps both the mice and the hound,” he mused, quite liking the notion.
“I’m not certain Her Grace would approve,” Hutchens observed politely, finishing his task.
“No, I don’t suppose she would.” Verity would likely be most displeased if he set kitchen mice and a windy dog upon her brother.
Hutchens laid a cool, scented compress on King’s jaw, soothing the freshly shaved skin.
“It is good of you to consider Her Grace’s feelings on the matter,” he added wryly. “It would seem I am not possessed of sufficient wits to do so myself. Perhaps it was my delight over the notion of Riverdale beset with rodents and farts.”
If Hutchens thought King’s commentary amusing, he gave no indication. His countenance was as serious as ever.
“Matrimony is yet a new state to you, Your Grace,” he said. “In time, undoubtedly you shall consider Her Grace first in all matters.”
King closed his eyes, trying to relax and savor the compress’s medicinal qualities. “I don’t know about that. I’m rather a selfish bastard, Hutchens. That’s why I married her in the first place.”
Not that his valet knew the full truth surrounding the circumstances of his marriage to Verity. No one did, save King himself. And Verity, if she were to remember. His eyes flew openat the thought, his resolve to face Riverdale in the drawing room returning. He couldn’t very well hide away in his chamber all day like a frightened lad. He didn’t fear Riverdale. He would seize the opportunity to distract from his inconvenient conscience, which had apparently chosen to reemerge from the ethers at the most inopportune moment.
“You are not selfish, Your Grace,” his valet countered politely.
“You are required to defend me, Hutchens,” he drawled. “I am aware of that. Spare me the requisite words of praise. I shan’t give you the sack.”
Because he was an exceedingly wise man, Hutchens removed the compresses and continued cleaning the razor without a word. King finished the rest of his morning rituals and dressed, determined to send Riverdale on his way.
Verity was feeling quitehappy with her life and indeed all the world as she descended the elaborately curved staircase to the drawing room at Castelyn House. She was wildly in love with her husband. Life with King thus far had exceeded all expectations. And good, sweet heavens—the pleasures he had shown her.
She had believed herself reasonably well-versed in what happened between a man and a woman. How very wrong she had been. Indeed, it was her good fortune that she had been so mistaken, for otherwise she wouldn’t have endured the two months before they had wed.
With a secret smile, she reached for the locket that was never far from her throat, only to realize she must have left it in herhusband’s bedchamber. She would have to fetch it before they left later for their honeymoon. The thought of being without her beloved locket did not sit well with Verity.
But she continued on anyway, because she had a far more pressing concern at the moment. Much to her delight, her brother had paid her an unexpected call.
Likely, Everett wished to see her off before her honeymoon, she decided as she made her way to the chamber where he awaited her. How kind of him.
She crossed the threshold to the drawing room, finding her brother standing at the window within, hands clasped behind his back. He turned at her entrance, the taut lines of his countenance taking her by surprise. Everett did not appear happy to see her.
“Brother,” she greeted him, smiling as she crossed the room. “What brings you to visit this morning?”
“It is scarcely morning,” her brother greeted stiffly in return. “I was beginning to fear for your welfare, given how long it took for you to see me.”
His pointed reprimand took her aback.
Verity paused short of him, feeling heat creep up her throat. “I must apologize for keeping you waiting.”
She wasn’t about to tell her churlish brother the reason it was almost afternoon and she had only just descended from her chamber to begin the day. It was none of his concern what she chose to do with her husband now that they were wed. It wasn’t as if she had followed Everett about, haranguing him over the time he spent with his wife, Sybil.
