Page 50 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

She placed a hand on her stomach, wishing she could push away the unpleasant feeling of having been abandoned. They had never agreed, verbally, that their relationship had changed.

Except it had.

She groaned and pressed her face into the pillow, resisting the urge to scream, but only because she feared Andrew would hear her.

What did he want? The man infuriated her.

Echoes of pleasure ran through her body at the memory, once again, of everything he had done to her. That was not the action of a man who did not care about or like her at all.

Nothing made any sense.

She closed her eyes, doing her best to drift back into slumber, but unfortunately, sleep was rather harder to come by now, and she lay silently in her lonely bed until the glow of sunrise touched her curtains, and birds called merrily to one another to welcome the new day.

Chapter Seventeen

“Good morning,” he said to the surprised footman of Nicholas’ house. “I’ll show myself in.”

Andrew rose before any of the servants expected to see him awake, ordering a horse to be called and riding across to Nicholas’s house.

After a sleepless night thinking about everything that had taken place between Jessamine and him, he needed another perspective, and Nicholas was the only person he thought could provide that.

All the blinds were drawn as he approached, and he rapped smartly on the door.

“But Lord—” the footman began.

Andrew waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he walked determinedly along the corridor. “Lord Mirthby will receive me. See to my horse, if you will.”

Being a duke did make certain activities easier. It gave him the liberty to order others around and for them to listen. No one dared deny a duke, no matter how much they had denied Lord Andrew, the younger son of a duke.

He took the stairs two at a time and rapped his knuckles loudly on Nicholas’s bedchamber door before letting himself in. Light strained in through the curtains, and Nicholas stirred groggily in the bed.

“Wake up,” Andrew said.

“What the devil did I do to deserve this?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“And you couldn’t wait until calling hours like a civilized person?” Nicholas sat up in bed. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Just after eight.”

“The army did you no favors,” Nicholas grumbled, stretching and propping himself on the pillow. “Open the curtains, then. If you’re so determined to talk, you may as well shed some light on the situation.”

Andrew strode to the curtains, throwing them open and welcoming a shaft of sunlight onto the floor. Nicholas swung out of bed and grabbed a robe hanging over a chair, slinging it across his shoulders.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I ought to be sleeping for another two hours at least,” he grumbled. “Do you know at what time I got to bed?”

“Went to White’s after you left mine, did you?” Andrew asked, unsympathetically.

“What of it? A man must have some entertainment that doesn’t revolve around an infant, you know.” He paused, sinking back onto the edge of the bed. “Yet I will admit that it all went very smoothly yesterday. I suppose you’re proud of yourself?”

“Jessamine deserves all the credit.” As he said her name, his stomach tightened.

God, she had been so perfectly responsive in his arms. He had ached for her so desperately, and he knew this foolishness had to stop before it progressed further. Before he damaged what he had in pursuit of what he should not want.

“I see,” Nicholas said slowly. “You’ve come here because she’s thrown you out?”

Andrew sent his friend a stern glance. “No.”