by Diana Quincy
“Why are you here?” Patience yawned. “Are you attending the party?”
“No,” she answered rather too quickly. “I came to inform Sunderford that we’ve returned, but since he is occupied at present, we can speak with him in the morning.”
“Will you let me and Prudie surprise him? Please, please, please.”
“Yes, you may…if you promise to find your bed immediately. It is very late.” She took the child by the shoulders and gently guided her away from Sunderford’s debauchery.
* * *
—
Sable—clearly not her true name—squirmed on Sunny’s lap, pressing her bottom into his groin. Sunny obligingly toyed with the strumpet’s pendulous breasts, trying to summon the necessary enthusiasm to awaken his limp prick.
He stared hard at the soiled doves having a go at each other on the billiards table, but even that provocativeness had lost its luster. It was a performance he’d seen many times before in some form or another. He stifled a yawn and thought about Prudie’s doll’s house.
He’d purchased the lumber and had already built the frame. Now he was breaking down the rooms and considering what trim to add. For the more delicate work and finer details, he intended to retain a woodworker, but it hadn’t come to that yet.
Working with his hands again, shaping natural objects like wood into something functional, or even beautiful, enlivened him. He could work for hours. The time would slip by. It seemed he’d just finished one meal and gotten back to work when Dowding would reappear to announce the next meal.
Sable was nibbling on Sunny’s ear, but it was an annoyance more than anything else. He realized he was bored. Not just with her or the scene on the billiards table, but with all of it—the playroom, the whores, gaming, drinking, engaging in revels at all hours.
The illuminating discovery alarmed him. If these routs no longer interested him, what else was there to fill his time, to pass the hours, days, and months? Work on Prudie’s doll’s house would take a few weeks at most, especially once he retained a specialist to add the finer finishing touches.
Sunny gave Sable one last go. He kissed her deeply, playing with her tongue, hoping to spark the tinder that would get his body going. But he gave up almost as soon as he’d begun. Breaking the kiss, he reached for his brandy and swished the smoky liquid around in his mouth, feeling the need to rinse the taste of her away. It was all he could do not to push Sable off his lap. “That’s enough,” he said to her. “Go and enjoy yourself.”
She pouted. “Are you certain? Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”
“No, not tonight.” He tried to keep his tone from being too harsh, but he wanted her away from him. “Go on now.”
She slipped off his lap and bounced away. He watched her slip into the lap of one of the cardplayers who welcomed her by rubbing his face between her ample breasts. Sunny felt a tinge of distaste.
He shifted in his seat. What the devil was the matter with him?
Other than the pathetic attempt with Sable, he hadn’t partaken in any of what was offered here this evening. Suddenly, he felt too old for this way of life. An endless party, he was coming to realize, could be tiresome and noisy. He wanted everyone to go away.
He vaguely recognized the man who scrambled onto the billiards table to sandwich himself between the two dancing women. Who were these people? These guests he’d invited into his home were mostly strangers. The ones he was familiar with were distant acquaintances at best. They certainly were not his friends.
Naturally, neither Cosmo nor Vale was in attendance, both having given up these sorts of entertainments once they’d wed. The only other man in town who he had any sort of relationship with was Tom. The doctor wasn’t precisely a friend—their past was too complicated for that—but he was an integral part of Sunny’s life. And Tom had never been one for these sorts of entertainments.
Sunny thought of Cosmo and Vale, men who had once been rakes—in Vale’s case only for a short time—but who were now happily settled. Cosmo’s words came back to him. It would be natural to grow bored of the constant party and mindless swiving. It happens to the best of us.
Devil take it. What if Cosmo actually had the right of it and this part of Sunny’s life was over? What would be left of Sunny once he shed his debauched ways? Just Adam Fairfax, Duke of Sunderford.
He didn’t even begin to know who that person was.
Chapter 18
Sunny wandered into the breakfast room rather earlier than usual the following day. Instead of finding the morning meal already laid out, the footmen were still bringing in the silver chafing dishes and setting them onto the rosewood sideboard.
Sunny settled in his seat. “Has the newspaper arrived?” he asked Dowding.
“Yes, Your Grace, they’re ironed and ready.” Sunny registered the butler’s very discreet surprise at the query. Dowding nodded to one of the attending footmen, who immediately slipped out of the room.
“Excellent.” Sunny never bothered to read the newspaper, but he thought he might as well begin today. Absent of his usual revels, he needed to find other activities to help pass the hours. Perusing the day’s news might assist in that endeavor. “Going forward, I’d like to have the paper laid out daily along with breakfast.”
“Very good, Your Grace. I will see to it.”
“As I am in the Lords, I may as well acquaint myself with the issues of the day.”
Dowding supervised as the remaining footman filled Sunny’s porcelain coffee cup. “Indeed, Your Grace.”
As a member of the House of Lords, Sunny helped craft the laws of the land, but he rarely paid attention to legislative matters, which he’d always found tiresome. He normally voted along with Vale or Cosmo’s father, the Marquess of Aldridge. The two men often supported the same measures, although not always. Sunny also retained an adviser, Hector Booth, to counsel him on political matters so that Sunny wouldn’t have to bother learning the issues himself.
The footman returned with the newspapers just as Dowding set a full plate before Sunny. Tossing a liver into his mouth, he reached for the top periodical. “Why are there two newspapers?”
“We order the newspapers that Mr. Booth requested we have available for His Grace.”
“Is there a difference?” Sunny reached for his coffee. “Surely all of the news is the same.”
“As I understand it, Your Grace, The Times appeals to Tories, while the Whigs are partial to the Chronicle.”
“Hmm.” Sunny identified as neither a Tory nor a Whig; in truth, he hardly comprehended the difference between the two. Sipping his coffee, he scanned The Times headlines.
He was distracted about a half hour later by Pan, who bounded into the room with a happy bark, wagging his tail vigorously. Sunny stared down at the creature.
“Why are you so cheerful?” The animal seemed to have moved past his lethargy of the past few weeks.
“Cousin Adam! Cousin Adam!” To Sunny’s shock, the twins skipped into the room. They wore matching white dresses and shiny beaming faces. Their hair was damp, as if they’d just bathed, and tamed into single braids down their backs.
“You’re finally awake.” Patience screeched to a stop beside him. “Isabel said we weren’t allowed to disturb you while you were sleeping.”
He blinked, his chest suddenly feeling lighter. “When did you arrive?”
“They came last evening, Your Grace. Whilst you were entertaining.” Dowding beamed. Sunny apparently wasn’t alone in being pleased with the girls’ return.
“Why didn’t you inform me?” he asked his butler.
“We begged him not to.” Patience grinned. “We wanted to surprise you.”
Prudie came to his other side. “We fell asleep in the carriage so we couldn’t surprise you as soon as we arrived.” She threw her arms around his neck. “But we’r
e ever so glad to be home. Are you happy we’re home, Cousin Adam?”
He paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the child’s show of emotion, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return Prudie’s embrace, so he did, tightening his arms around her delicate, little form, and inhaling her clean little girl scent. “Yes,” he said, his chest feeling strangely full. “I am very happy to have you back home where you belong.”
“I knew you would be.” Prudie pulled back to look at him. “I told Isabel we had to return home because you would be missing us.”
“You were very right,” he answered truthfully. He noted that Patience was hanging back, seeming a bit uncomfortable. What was wrong with the child?
“Aren’t you going to hug Patience, too?” Prudie asked him.
Sunny studied Patience and registered the longing in her eyes. He opened his arms and she flung herself into them, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m so happy you want us, Duke,” she whispered against the fabric of his linen shirt, “so very happy.”
Sunny’s throat felt embarrassingly achy. He patted the child’s back as he tightened his hold on her. It was a novel feeling to know that someone had missed him. Naturally, as the holder of one of the highest titles in the land, he’d always been aware of his societal importance, but this was something completely different. The children had not missed the Duke of Sunderford. They’d missed Adam, the man, not the peer with the exalted title.
“I am grateful that you and your sister have come back to me,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Are those sweet buns?” Prudie eyed the food offerings on the sideboard. “Can I have one?”
“You may have as many as you like.” Sunny settled a surprising clingy Patience on his lap and gestured to the footman to bring the entire platter of sweet buns to the table. “On one condition, that is.”
“What?” Patience asked almost shyly.
“You must sit here with me and tell me all about Uncle Abel and your trip.” He examined Patience’s thin frame. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell out of the apple tree?”
She reached for a sweet bun. “I got some bruises, but I cannot show them to you because they are all gone now.”
“I’m very relieved to hear that.” He was surprised at how gratifying it felt to hold Patience in his arms. The children were so innocent and trusting that it made his chest hurt. The girls seemed to have also awakened a deep-rooted protective instinct within him that he hadn’t known he possessed. “I was quite worried when I first heard you’d fallen.”
“Isabel says Patience must be more careful.” Prudie spoke around a mouthful of sweet bun.
“I agree with Finch,” he responded.
“You should have seen the kittens,” Patience told him.
“They were so little,” Prudie put in. As the girls regaled him with stories about their time away, Sunny’s gaze kept wandering to the door. Where was Finch?
He would need to have a word with her soon. To reassure her that what occurred between them in the schoolroom would not be repeated.
“Are you listening, Duke?” Patience asked.
“Yes, indeed.” He gave the girls his full attention. “You were saying there were three kittens. Tell me, what color were they?”
* * *
—
“Two women completely unclothed?” Abigail’s eyes rounded with horrified fascination. “And the couple on the sofa…they were actually engaged in the act? I mean to say, really, really doing it?”
“Yes, really.” Isabel sipped her lemonade. She’d managed to slip out to see Abigail while the children were in the breakfast room with Sunderford. “Now, can we please discuss something else?”
“No! What could possibly be more interesting than hearing the details of Sinful Sunny’s soiree?”
“Well…” If only Abbie knew.
“There’s more?” The other woman’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t tell me you attended the party.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then what aren’t you telling me?”
Isabel needed to talk to someone about her current predicament. And she and Abbie had always told each other everything. “The duke is the reason I went to Cornwall.”
Abbie slapped her lap. “I knew there was something strange about the way you ran off the day after the ball. You vanished just after dancing with the duke.”
She nodded. “I went to the schoolroom to read. He followed me.”
“He who? Sunderford?”
“Yes.”
All mirth left Abbie’s face as she studied Isabel’s somber expression. “Did something terrible happen?” she whispered. “He didn’t take advantage of you?”
“No, he didn’t force me.”
Flattening a hand against her chest, Abbie exhaled her relief. “Thank goodness. You look so serious and so miserable.”
“He didn’t force me because I wanted it as much as Sunderford did. Perhaps more.”
“What?” Abbie’s mouth fell open. “You and the Duke of Sunderford?”
“I don’t know what came over me.” She blinked against the tears forming in her eyes.
“How was it?”
“Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was frenzied and wild and wonderful.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “He was so tender. I didn’t expect that.”
“Why are you crying?” Abbie scooted closer on the sofa to put an arm around Isabel’s shoulders. “Are you feeling guilty? You have nothing to feel badly about. What is the use of being a widow if you cannot enjoy yourself in that way?”
“What am I supposed to do now? I cannot be his doxy.” Her heart thudded sluggishly in her chest. “And the party last evening shows the duke hasn’t changed. But I cannot leave. He is the girls’ guardian, and I cannot just desert them.”
“Of course you couldn’t.” Abbie sat back. “You are in an untenable situation.”
“If only Abel had sent the girls to the vicar cousin.”
“There’s a vicar cousin?”
“Cousin Curtis. I met him while I was in Cornwall with the children. He is very agreeable and told me he would have been happy to be the girls’ guardian. But Abel was convinced Sunderford would make a better guardian.”
“Why would he believe Sinful Sunny would be a proper guardian to Patience and Prudence? And after what he’s done to you—”
“Sunderford has done nothing wrong where I am concerned,” she said adamantly. “He certainly never promised me anything. He never pretended he was reformed. I lay with him because I wanted to, despite who and what he is.”
Abbie grimaced. “It would be terrible to have to endure watching him with other women after what occurred between you two.”
“Exactly.” She wiped a tear away. “I do not know why I’m crying. I feel like a fool.”
“I wish I could give you sound advice and make you feel better, but I am at a loss.”
“You are making me feel better.” She took Abbie’s hand. “It’s just a relief to be able to tell someone and not be judged.”
Abbie squeezed her hand. “I would never pass judgment on you. Never. You’ve suffered enough. I intend to make it my mission to ensure you do not suffer again in this situation.”
Isabel gave a shaky smile. “Would that you could. But you mustn’t worry about me. I shall be fine.”
“Yes,” Abigail said determinedly. “But you are deserving of much more than that, and I intend to see that you get it.”
Abbie was someone who liked to fix things. But Isabel did not think her current situation could be easily resolved. “This morning, I awoke early and penned a letter to your father. I thought perhaps he could use his influence to have guardianship removed from Sunderford and assigned to the vicar.”
“That’s a brillia
nt idea. Father will be so pleased.” Abbie’s face brightened. “He has always stood ready to assist you, but you’ve asked that he not interfere.”
“I was afraid matters could go terribly wrong, as they had in the past. But I expect that Sunderford will have no objection to having the children removed from his care.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of never seeing Sunderford again, but there was nothing to be done for it. “He’ll most likely welcome the chance to be rid of us.”
“You know Father. With his strict moral code, he does not at all approve of the manner in which the Duke of Sunderford conducts his life. Where is this letter that you wrote? May I see it?”
Isabel reached for her reticule and pulled the note out. “I’m not certain that I want to send it. I need to put my own emotions aside and think carefully about what is best for the girls.” She handed the paper to Abbie and waited while her friend read it.
“Well,” Abbie said when she finally looked up. “You certainly didn’t hold back.”
Isabel had poured her heart into the missive, mentioning everything from the scandalous parties to Patience almost walking in on Sunny and his guests last evening. “You know I have a tendency to write my thoughts and feelings down on paper. It helps me arrange my thoughts and settle my emotions.”
“This could certainly be damaging to Sunderford if you chose to send it.”
“I don’t want to impugn his reputation.”
Abbie made a face. “As if you could. They don’t call him Sinful Sunny due to his sterling reputation. Imagine if Patience had walked in on that scene last evening.”
A shiver of distaste went down Isabel’s spine at the thought of either of the girls witnessing what she had. “I would never forgive myself.”
“Exactly. You must seriously consider involving Papa.”
“I have to think on it. My mind is a jumble at the moment. We’ve just returned home and what occurred last evening is still too fresh.”
“It would probably be for the best to give the letter to Papa.”