Page 88 of Duke with a Deception
“Mind your own bloody wardrobe,” he growled, giving his friend’s attire a jaundiced eye. “Is your daughter choosing your waistcoats again?”
“As it happens, Pandy did select this one,” Brandon said with great pride, straightening his shoulders.
The waistcoat in question was a brilliant shade of vermilion.
“Being a father has made you utterly mad,” he said without heat.
There had been a time when he’d been horrified by the changes in his friend, but his own marriage to Verity had changed King’s perspective. He hadn’t been able to comprehend what true happiness was, having existed for all his life without it. But he had it now.
For how long?
King banished the unwelcome voice of fear, never far. He thought of the love and trust he so often saw in her eyes, and in that moment resolved to trust that those feelings were meant for him, not some phantom of her past. After the ball was over, he would tell Verity the truth.
“I do think I’ve always been rather a bit mad,” Brandon said, grinning. “Speaking of mad, I never thought I’d see the day you were hosting a ball of your own free will.”
King raised his flute of champagne in salute. “Touché. My wife is an angel, and I am persuaded I would carry the earth on my back for her if she but asked it of me.”
Brandon nodded. “Love has a way of doing that to a man.”
King didn’t even bother to deny it. What was the point? He was hopelessly in love with Verity. She made him a better man. She madeeverythingbetter.
“Indeed. Who would have thought, years ago when we first convened, that we would all one day be happily married men, in love with our wives?”
“It seems impossible to comprehend.” Brandon’s face softened as his eyes settled on something across the room. “I never would have believed you, had you told me.”
King followed his friend’s gaze and realized it was someonerather than somethingthat had captured Brandon’s attention. His duchess was engaged in an animated conversation with the Duchess of Camden. The two ladies were close friends, both equally renowned for their eccentricities and both lovely.
“Nor would have I,” King agreed, searching the colorful crush of guests for his own duchess.
Verity was with the Duchess of Riverdale and several other ladies, and he had no doubt that his wife was putting her angelic disposition to excellent use. She had likely already secured sizable donations from half the ballroom on behalf of theChildren’s Foundling Hospital. Which reminded him, he truly needed to pull his fair share of the weight.
“I trust that we can count upon you and the duchess for a gift this evening,” he added.
Brandon was still gazing adoringly at his wife. “Naturally. My grandmother as well.”
King inclined his head. “That is most generous of Mrs. Carrington-Smythe.”
Brandon grinned. “The old bird can be quite munificent when she likes. And as for me, I simply do what my wife asks of me. If Lottie wants to donate a king’s ransom to the Children’s Foundling Hospital, then that is what we shall do.”
“Verity will be overjoyed to hear that.”
“How is the duchess faring as your wife?” Brandon asked, turning his attention back to King.
“No doubt Riverdale thinks I keep her locked in my dungeon all day and night, providing her nothing to eat save gruel and moldy biscuits,” he drawled. “However, I can assure you that she is well and, I think, contented.”
“Riverdale is a trifle bitter over the circumstances,” Brandon agreed. “But he will soften in time.”
The bastard had not yet.
King wasn’t certain he ever would.
He took a careful sip of his champagne, trying to tamp down the hurt that threatened to rise. “Perhaps.”
“He is in attendance this evening,” Brandon pointed out. “Surely that is an indication that his rancor no longer holds quite as much sting.”
“He is in attendance because his wife and his sister would no doubt brain him if he refused to come.”
“Richford and Whit have worked out their discord over Whit’s sister,” Brandon countered. “It shan’t be different for you and Riverdale.”
