Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,84
all have our tragedies in life.”
“At least you can go about as you please. Rather than lie here all day with nothing to do.”
She lifted an elegant shoulder in a shrug. “Then find something to do.”
His mouth twisting with fury and frustration, he leaned forward and growled, “Blast you, there’s nothing. Nothing but reading and thinking and remembering.”
Sarah looked unmoved. “Tell me, when was the last time you left this house?”
“I go for a drive now and then. But it’s a trial to be carted around like an invalid with servants and hangers-on. So don’t be suggesting I get out more.”
The duchess tilted her head. “Do you know what I think?” she asked softly. “I think you’re afraid.”
His compressed lips blanched with rage. Anxious to avert disaster, Alicia stepped between James and Sarah, giving voice to the idea that had just sprung into her mind.
“James, will you go somewhere with us right now?” Alicia asked.
He made an impatient gesture. “I can’t get around the shops. You know that.”
“Please,” she said. “It isn’t shopping. I’ve somewhere else in mind.”
A cautious interest lit his blue eyes. “Where?”
Anticipation flashed through her. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Knowing Drake wouldn’t leave the house until midafternoon at the earliest, she took a deep breath. “We’re going to Wilder’s Club.”
* * *
Drake headed down a pathway through Green Park, his steps brisk and energetic. Sunlight dappled the grass, and the afternoon air held the rare promise of summer. He felt relaxed and sated, invigorated after making love to Alicia at dawn. He had slept deeply and awakened refreshed after only four hours. Rejuvenated, he’d decided to walk to the club rather than take his carriage.
He hadn’t expected to find satisfaction in marriage to a noblewoman. He had believed Alicia to be cold through and through. He’d wed her solely for revenge, and their compatibility in bed was a bonus. He smiled to himself, anticipating the long sessions of sex in the weeks to come. It would take quite a while to purge so strong a need from his blood. And by her eagerness, Alicia would be willing for whatever pleasures he had in store. She had even claimed to love him.
Aware of a gathering tension inside himself, he filled his lungs with a deep breath of fresh air. She was mistaken, of course. Having a lady’s delicate sensibilities, Alicia needed to justify the raw nature of her passion. So she had swathed her lust in the pretty illusion of romance.
So be it. If it kept her hot for him, he’d let her enjoy her fantasies.
Leaving the park, he strode down a footpath between two mansions and emerged in the mews at the rear of his club. He relished the tall edifice of Portland stone before entering through a plain green door. In the kitchen, several maids were at work, two polishing the silver, another cleaning the big Bodley range. They curtsied to him, even Molly, the pregnant girl, whom he ordered to sit down and rest. Their obeisance made him uncomfortable, but he had long ago given up trying to forbid it. They viewed him as their lord and master. And he supposed it was true; the club was his castle.
As he went into the corridor, his sense of satisfaction grew. Until he saw Fergus MacAllister hovering outside the door leading into a suite of small offices. The Scotsman spied Drake and froze for a moment, his bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise.
Then he came loping like a giraffe down the passageway. “By jings,” he said a shade too heartily, “I dinna ken ye’d arrive here so early.”
“I’d had enough sleep. So I thought I’d go over last month’s accounts.” He stepped toward the door. “Is Lazarus in?”
Fergus surged past him and planted himself like a tall oak in front of the door. “Cheever’s feelin’ puirly. Go on up to yer office, and I’ll bring the books to ye.”
Something in his manner roused Drake’s suspicions. “I’ll get them myself.”
As he reached for the door handle, Fergus thrust out his arm to block him. “Ye mind yer manners, now. Else ye’ll have me to answer to.”
Even now, that stern gaze could reduce Drake to a scrappy lad of ten. Refusing to quail, he gave the old man a challenging look. “Move aside.”
Fergus scowled at him for another long moment, then stepped out of the way. Leaving him standing in the outer passage, Drake pushed open the door. A long corridor stretched out with several doorways leading