Page 69 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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The house thrummed with activity; maids and footmen darted to and fro from the kitchens to the front door as Simon attempted to sneak outside for the second time that day. He’d crept down the servants’ staircase to avoid notice only to be obstructed by a procession of tea urns. He had retreated immediately. He cringed to imagine the scolding he would receive if he spoiled Ravenna’s first official affair.

When Aunt Glynnis had announced at her supper party that Her Grace the Duchess of Rochecliffe was ready to see and be seen, Society had listened.

It seemed to Simon that the whole of the bon ton had descended on the house to sip Souchong and nibble cakes with his wife. He glimpsed her sitting on the red tufted sofa of their first-floor drawing room. She looked so angelic surrounded by her aunt and numerous other ladies that he had to admire her. Who would guess that she brought him to his knees with the merest effort?

He leaned against the door to listen to her musical voice. Her guests were examining the sapphire bracelet he’d given her last night. Enamored as he was of her changeable charms, he could not spend the day eavesdropping, however. His priority was to visit a livery stable to buy a suitable mount for Ravenna to ride in London, as well as a traveling coach for their country trips.

On the way to the stable he planned to stop at Tattersall’s auction house, an establishment that dealt in select bloodstock and the business of horse-racing. Rhys had offered to attend the afternoon showing of a new stud on the premises. As a former cavalry officer, he had an interest in all things equine.

En route, they spied Heath’s trim carriage traveling at high speed in the opposite direction. Simon slowed his Arab. “We should ask whether there is an emergency,” he said to Rhys. “Pray heaven it does not involve Julia.”

“It is nothing of consequence,” Heath said from his window as the two men trotted alongside his carriage. “I’m in a rush to Grayson’s hothouse. Julia craves cucumbers. Sprinkled with sugar and salt.”

Simon grinned. “Couldn’t you send a servant on this errand?”

“I could,” Heath said. “But I want to handpick an orchid for her. I can’t order a footman to choose a flower for my wife. It wouldn’t be the same.”

Rhys shook his head. “The evidence grows stronger by the day.”

“What evidence?” Heath said. “The fact that we’re holding up city traffic? The menace to Simon and Ravenna, or my wife’s delicate condition? What case are you building?”

Rhys pulled up his collar against a gust of wind. “The one against matrimony. Marriage has reduced you and Simon to a pathetic state. It saddens me.” He squinted at Simon as a raindrop hit his forehead. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not in the mood for a horse auction. But do summon me if there is a genuine problem. I’ll ride to Covent Garden.”

Heath laughed. “Doesn’t a certain ballet dancer live in that neighborhood?”

“She might.” Rhys turned his mount. “To be honest I’d rather join a dance troupe than run about picking out cucumbers and ponies.”

“Are you coming with me to Audrey Watson’s tonight, should I decide to go?” Heath called after them.

Rhys froze. “Was I invited?”

“Her door is always open to an eligible Boscastle male,” Heath replied. “Just remember we would visit her only to seek information and not for entertainment.”

“I’m not the one Simon has to convince,” Rhys said.

“Which is a reason for you to join us. You can report back to your sister that Simon was faithful to his vows. He needs you as insurance.”

Rhys looked skeptical. “And Julia? Does she know about this?”

“I would not ever deceive her,” Heath said. “She’s entertained Mrs. Watson at our table more than once. Consider it a family favor.”

Simon smiled at Rhys’ reluctance to accept. “You’re the one who reminded me that you and I are family now.”

“I shall carry that uplifting thought in my heart for the rest of the day,” Rhys said, backing up his horse. “Yes. I shall stand as an eyewitness if you decide to go. But don’t forget I’m still a bachelor. I wouldn’t want you to keep me out of trouble should the opportunity arise.”

Thus alone, Simon continued to the auction house. He missed Ravenna’s company and wondered how she was faring at her tea party. He contemplated Heath’s invitation to visit Mrs. Watson’s brothel.

Ravenna would fly into the boughs. Not that any courtesan could compare with her. Would there come a day when his wife did not preoccupy his thoughts?

Soon the excitement in the air, the whicker of horse and conversation of gentlemen dealers in tall hats and polished boots, engaged his attention.

Many of them were in the market for race horses. Simon had no plans to establish a breeding stable at his country seat, an endeavor that Bruxton had undertaken shortly after marrying Susannah. It pained Simon to recall how he and Bruxton had once discussed the venture over a bottle of port in an atmosphere of what Simon had mistaken to be trust.

Damn the murdering bastard.

He wandered to the enclosure to watch a handsome grey trotted out for viewing. The threat of rain had passed.