Page 68 of To Ensnare a Duke

"If," I repeat, the contagious excitement finally taking hold until I cannot help but feel the same elation. "If is the pertinent word."

CHAPTER 30

BENEDICT

Isit in the plush seat nursing a bit of brandy as the others prattle on beside me. If I had given any thought as to what sort of stag night I saw myself having, sitting around talking about a potential blackmailer was not what I had in mind. Granted, the nubile bodies writhing on the stage seem to hold no appeal for me either.

All the men who are married, plus Norhaven for some reason, seem perfectly fine discussing political matters. Redleigh watches the lithe movements on the stage while keeping half turned to us. On the outside, it might seem as if he's doing his best to give us his attention, but I know better.

Even now, all these years later, he keeps going on about that damned scar and his 'beastly' appearance. As if it's not his mannerisms that drive the woman away and not the scratch on his face. Unfortunately, there's no convincing him otherwise, so I refuse to try anymore.

Whiteport heads up the conversation, but every now and then his gaze flits over and darkens as someone gets a lash taken to their skin. I should feel as they do, but deep inside, all I want is to see Augusta beaming up at me, her eager smile pulling me in even deeper. She was right in that it's good we are together, but I don't wish to give her the satisfaction just yet.

Perhaps once we're finally wed.

My cock hardens as I think of taking her maidenhead tomorrow. After that, she will be all mine, and no one else's. Not even blasted Lord Harhall will have a foothold. Though I believe that they were not co-conspirators from the start, I wouldn't put it past the brigand to maneuver this to his favor.

I only have to wait until tomorrow, and all threat of having this gem stripped from me will vanish. My stomach clenches as I take another swallow of the bitter drink. As long as Augusta doesn't do anything foolish, it should go smoothly.

Hopefully, by being with the other wives, she'll find a calmer spirit about herself. As much as I do enjoy turning her bottom a bright red, I hate that she must always find some way to defy me. I long to give her all the pain and pleasure she desires. If only she'd behave.

My knot tingles for a moment as it swells, pressing hard against my breeches. The fact that her body cannot seem to tolerate my brand of love does give me pause for concern. No one else I've played with has ever drifted like that. It's as if her body can only tolerate so much before it fractures apart.

"Are you even listening?" Whiteport asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

The others snicker and jab at each other with their elbows. "He's no doubt thinking of his wedding night," Foxford teases, leaning back with a smug smile.

"As long as it's better than yours," I retort. "All your guests heard her scream. They may have believed she was in the throes of virginal apoplexy, but we know better."

He scowls and tips back his glass. "She was in one of her angry moods, and I simply had to explain to her who was actually in charge."

For a moment, we all go silent as we sit there deep in thought.

"It's the women, isn't it?" I finally ask with an exasperated sigh.

In unison, Blackport, Birchleigh, and Foxford speak out until I cannot discern who says what.

"Oh, completely."

"Utterly."

"Without a doubt."

"Truthfully, though," Blackport muses, his face sobering. "They, well, I should say my wife at least, enjoys the dominance I display over her body. She'd prefer I be in charge rather than not."

"Same with my wife," Birchleigh agrees, his eyes glittering in the candlelight.

"Mine is a conundrum," Foxford sighs, rolling his glass in his hands. "She enjoys it well enough, but still has that stubborn streak that refuses to quit. Granted, she does keep her mischief more toward me and antics within the home. So most of the time the discipline is more in fun than actual correction."

"That's what I hope with Augusta. Though we are not yet wed, I've had to take her in hand in the absence of her brother. Though I do not mind her spirit, I do worry about her lack of care and knowledge. She's been raised to know and understand what's expected of her, yet she does the opposite."

"Is that why you took her here dressed as a lad?" Whiteport muses, looking over his glass.

My face pales. "You know about that?"

"I heard whispers on the breeze. Nothing you should be concerned with. The identity of your guest is well-hidden. The lovely madam did not betray you, if that is a worry. But knowing you have no friends save us and Lord Hardon, I was a bit suspicious. Your answer confirmed it."

I slump forward and rest my head in my hands. "The chit had the sheer audacity to dress as a man and attend a local gaming hell. Has attended God knows how many times."