Page 84 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“I think,” he said, “it is best if I go.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Sterling!” Jasper called out for Hector embarrassingly loudly in the gentleman’s club. “If this is about Parliament, I intend to be violently unhelpful.”

Hector could see the blurred shape of Jasper’s arms as he raised his drink. He laughed and shook his head.

“It is not, old friend.” Hector walked to the booth, placed the cane aside, and sat with a huff.

Jasper sipped his drink, and Hector felt his friend’s eyes on him.

“Go on then,” he said roughly.

Jasper chuckled. “Is it a woman?”

Hector removed his gloves with unnecessary care. “Must you sound so pleased when you ask that?”

Jasper shrugged. “I am rarely summoned for dull reasons. And almost never by you, which suggests either scandal or murder. Since you look insufficiently bloodstained, I choose scandal.”

Hector took the glass of brandy that was placed on the table and drank it in one gulp.

“I need advice.”

Jasper froze.

There was a blessed silence that came, and the world seemed to have shifted underneath Hector’s feet. He wondered briefly if it would be wise to confess his true thoughts or feelings. Not because he did not trust his friend; he simply did not trust himself with the truth.

“Good God,” Jasper said softly, pulling Hector back from his spiraling thoughts. “It is serious.”

“I should not have come.” Hector made to stand up.

“There is no need for dramatics.” Jasper’s tone lost its brightness. “Speak before you recover your senses.”

Hector sat still. He knew that Jasper would watch him more closely now and pretend not to. They had been friends long enough for certain mercies.

For a while, the drink did its work poorly. It burned and settled, but left him still full of the warmth he felt in the fortress and the closeness of Poppy. Her scent lingered on him, and it was distracting him in his every waking hour.

Jasper waited nearly a minute, which for him was an act of devotion.

At last he said, “Tell me everything.”

Hector looked into the glass, swirling the newly poured amber liquid until it all blurred together and gave him nothing. “It seems that I have made an error.”

“With your wife?” He always went straight to the point.

Hector answered him with silence, and his friend leaned back.

“Have you insulted her, neglected her, or—heavens!—have you finally discovered that you enjoy her company?” Hector had the sudden urge to throw his glass at him.

“Do not be absurd.”

“Ah. So, it is the last one.”

Hector’s jaw tightened. “I said I needed advice, not your constant teasing.”

“I am adjusting to this miracle.” Hector could hear the sarcasm in his tone. “What happened, truly?”

Hector could have described Poppy and her haunting blue eyes or the way her dark blonde hair caught the light whenever he looked at her. He could have described how her voice and smile conspired against him and left him feeling despair.