“Are you well, Quimby?” He asked, standing over the moron with feigned innocence, allowing just a hint of taunting to color his tone. “Looks like you just stumbled there.”
“I say, man, have you been imbibing so early?” Gabriel added, not even trying to hide the mockery.
Quimby promptly scrambled to his feet and shot them a venomous glare. It was obvious the guy wanted nothing more than to beat them to a pulp, but apparently even an idiot like him realized when he was outmatched. Cowards usually preferred to act in groups and pick on easy victims. Adjusting his coat with as much dignity as he could summon, he turned around and left them.
Colin sighed, somewhat disappointed. Despite his calm exterior, his blood boiled for a fight. Quimby would be a fine recipient of all his anger and frustration. After so many years, he should not still feel this much rage.
“Well handled, Colin.” Gabriel said as they resumed their seat to continue their interrupted luncheon.
“Maybe. But not satisfying enough.” He said, attacking his steak with fork and knife. Unleashing his barely contained fury on the inert meat before him.
“I daresay you will have another opportunity to inflict more damage. People like Quimby don’t know when to quit,” Gabriel said, cutting his steak with much less violence.
“I am counting on it.”
“Nice moves, by the way. Where did you learn that?” Gabriel asked admiringly.
“Kung Fu. It’s a Chinese martial art.”
“Really? I learned some Kalaripayattu in India when I lived there. Have you been to China?”
“I haven’t. I met Wang in New York about ten years ago. He became my trainer and therapist. He is now playing at being my secretary, although he is more like a friend.”
“Intriguing. Do you think he would be interested in teaching me? It would complement my Kalaripayattu, and we could spar sometimes.”
Colin shrugged. “I’ll ask him. He’s been talking about returning to New York. Maybe that’ll give him an incentive to stay.”
“Talking about staying, for how long do you plan to be in London?” Gabriel inquired casually.
“Probably until mid-June or so. I’m looking forward to returning to the country, but I can’t just yet. Next week is Elizabeth’s presentation at court, followed by her come-out ball. All the women in my family have been working on this for a month. I’m tired of all the balls and social events. But my sister is enjoying it. It would be a shame to cut short her first season. How about you?”
“I have been invited to a house party next week. At the Duke of Stanhope’s estate.” Gabriel replied, his finger tracing the rim of his wine glass. He didn’t look particularly thrilled.
“Do you not want to go?” Colin asked carefully.
“Yes, and no,” His friend replied cryptically. “I shouldn’t want to go, but I do. It will be torture. And yet I’m looking forward to it.” He looked up. “I would invite you, but it seems as if you have your own commitments in town.”
Colin nodded slowly. Gabriel seemed unhappy. And apparently it had something to do with Stanhope’s house party. If he could, he would accompany him to it. Abigail would probably enjoy it too, and maybe a few days out of town would be good for them. Unfortunately, next week was impossible.
“Is everything well with you? You sound... troubled.”
The other man shrugged. “Isn’t love always trouble?”
Ah! He certainly could agree with that. He thought briefly about his own strained marriage. His growing discontent with the current state of their relationship. It seemed his unhappiness grew in direct proportion to his feelings for his wife.
But he hadn’t realized his friend was unhappy in love as well. Yes, love was indeed trouble.
A couple of hours later, he climbed the steps to his townhouse with a heavy heart. He missed his wife. His desire for her was an unquenchable thirst. The more he drank for her, the more he craved her. But he didn’t want to impose on her.
Just because his need for her grew every day didn’t mean the opposite was true. In fact, every day she seemed more contained and reserved. Oh, she never refused him. But the only time in recent weeks that she had abandoned herself in his arms was that night after the encounter with the Duke of Aycliffe. When she had made love to him in the dark. Probably pretending he was someone else.
After that, their encounters had gotten even more restrained than before. She couldn’t seem to tolerate even his slightest attempt to give her pleasure. So he had given up. Now their couplings were brief, cold and unsatisfactory. So unsatisfactory that in the last week he had not visited her bed at all.
His body yearned for the Abigail who had abandoned herself to passion on their wedding night. Had that been a dream? That night, they had loved each other without barriers or limits. He had tasted heaven and had been so hopeful about his marriage. But his hopes had died a quick death just a day later.
“Oh, isn’t Aycliffe handsome?” Elizabeth’s voice floated into the hallway just as Colin was walking by the drawing room. Hidden half behind the open doors, he could see them without being seen. He stopped to listen. Like the pathetic, spurned husband he was.
The supposed handsomeness of the damned duke was not a subject he wanted to contemplate in his current mood. Or ever.
