Page 33 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

“I was not going to ask you to,” Jo countered. The thought had not crossed her mind, but now that she knew Thornston did know Robert’s secrets she was curious. “Tell me another secret then. Lady Margaret more than insinuated that Lord Thistleworth is not the father of Lady Thistleworth’s unborn child.”

Thornston scoffed and grinned at the same time.

“That is hardly a secret.”

Jo raised her eyebrows in question, a little shocked that he was not surprised.

“The three eldest children are believed to be Thistleworths’, but it is a public secret that the last four, or five that is, are not.”

“Whose are they?”

Thornston shrugged.

“The Thistleworths have a very happy marriage: they do not interfere with each other’s affairs, and Lord Thistleworth accepts all children born from his wife’s indiscretions.”

Jo’s eyes widened in shock.

“London is a lot more decadent than Hampshire I gather,” Thornston teased her.

Jo smiled shyly and nodded. People in Hampshire had affairs as well. Of course they had. She had heard gossip about it from time to time, but she could not imagine anyone being so open about it. And particularly not the husband accepting that his wife had children with other men.

“Why would he though, Lord Thistleworth?”

“Accept the children?” Thornston asked and Jo nodded. “Rumor has it that he likes having a large brood of children but not creating them.”

Jo blushed at the brazen topic and looked out the window at the dark streets to hide it. She tried to make sense of the statement. From what she had understood from Beatrice, men enjoyed the act a lot and wanted to do it often and frequently.

“Why?” she dared to ask and chanced a glance at Thornston. He did not look scandalized by her question.

“He prefers men over women. Or at least one particular man I am told. Perhaps he does like women sometimes. You would have to at least a little to father three children, wouldn’t you?”

Jo’s cheeks were flaming by the time he had finished speaking and the grin on Thornston’s face told her that he could tell. Jo opened the window to let some fresh air in. The stench of the city was not as bad now that the sun was down.

“I know you are not going to tell me any of Robert’s secrets…” Jo began hesitantly and tried to gauge Thornston’s reaction as she spoke. He lifted an eyebrow which seemed both confirmation and him urging her to continue. “But will you at least tell me whether this is normal for him? To drink so much that he cannot attend a party he has committed to. I am starting to realize that I know so little of him and…”

How could she tell Robert’s best friend that she was anxious about the man she had married?

“This is not like him,” Thornston told her quietly, no charming or flirting note to his voice now. “Robert is a good man. You have nothing to fear.”

Jo nodded and tried to offer a grateful smile although it was more just a lift of the corners of her mouth. She did not like how easily Thornston had been able to detect her concern yet was relieved by his reassurance. The carriage came to a stop and Jo was spared from further conversation that would most likely embarrass her as the door was opened by a footman.

“Thank you for accompanying me… and enlightening me,” she mumbled before she left the carriage.

16

Robert’s head was pounding as if it was an anvil where a vigorous blacksmith was making shoe after shoe for horses. He alighted the steps to his townhouse carefully, followed closely by Thornston who had insisted on accompanying him home when Robert refused to have breakfast at his house, let alone offer more than a grunt in reply to anything Thornston said.

The door was held open by a footman and Robert gave him a nod in greeting as he entered.

“Good morning, Your Grace. Good morning, Lord Thornston,” the footman greeted them. “There is a visitor for you, Your Grace.”

Robert cursed under his breath. The last thing he wanted was to have to face someone now. He needed some of his cook, Mrs. Miller’s, potato scones and lots of bacon and coffee before he was able to speak to anyone. And when he did, he wished for it to be Jo. Not a visitor who had come calling first thing in the morning.

“Who?” he growled, his voice hoarse from not speaking all morning.

“Mr. Ambrose Hawkins, Your Grace.”

Robert closed his eyes. He thought he had told Robinson that Jo’s cousin was not to enter his house. Robert searched his muddled brain without finding an answer. Perhaps he had forgotten about it with all that was happening.