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“I’ll not lose a second of sleep over the likes of Richmond. At worst, I can hold Miss Merrithorpe’s family off for nine days. No point in being a duke if one can’t abuse one’s power on occasion.”
Lancaster raised his glass in the man’s direction before downing it. “How is your accumulation of power proceeding? I knew about your railroads, but I’ve only recently heard talk of your shipping enterprise as well.”
Somerhart grunted. “Despite the dealings with parliament, I find the railroads simpler. The shipping…I swear these damned Americans expect to be seduced into a contract. The only person I’m interested in seducing is my wife.”
“What’s that?” Lancaster grinned. “They want you to be charming, Your Grace?”
“As if I have time for that,” the duke spat out in disgust.
“I could give you lessons.”
“Somehow I don’t think they’d take.”
Lancaster inclined his head in polite agreement.
“If you care to exercise your one remaining asset on someone else…We’ve a bit of a fete planned two days out. You’re welcome to join in and trot out your charm if you like. Emma’s invited the Osbournes and a few dozen of her favorite opponents.”
“Opponents?”
“At the tables. She misses gamb
ling, though she denies it. Claims she’s merely helping the stable hands learn math when she plays them for biscuits.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Lancaster laughed.
“I’ve never had enough patience for it, whether it’s biscuits or crowns I’m betting.”
As soon as Somerhart uttered the word crown, Lancaster forgot his amusement and sat forward. A gambling party. And Cynthia had 304 pounds that needed to be more. Perhaps the solution had just fallen into his lap.
“Thank you, Somerhart. I’d love to attend.”
Chapter 19
His feet swung slightly as if there were a breeze in the room, as if the rope were a child’s swing instead of a noose. The creaking of it filled his ears, but the sound spun farther away the longer he hung. His hands dropped from the rope.
“Nick.” He opened his eyes to find Cynthia standing in front of him, glaring up. “Did you hang yourself?”
Did she expect an answer? He pointed to the rope. I can’t speak.
“Well, you should be ashamed of yourself, Nicholas Cantry.”
So he should. Deeply, horrifyingly ashamed. He stared down at her, relieved that her face would be the last he saw.
But then a door opened behind her and Richmond entered, completely nude, hand cupping his bollocks. His skin was fish-belly pale, his gut soft and doughy, just as it had been ten years before. Lancaster watched in horror as Richmond, fully aroused, approached Cynthia from behind.
Lancaster kicked his legs, tried to raise an arm to point, but Cynthia just shook her head in disgust. Then Richmond dropped his hand and reached for Cynthia, blood dripping from his fingers. When Lancaster looked down to see the man’s bollocks were a mangled, torn mess, he opened his mouth in a silent scream.
“Nick!” Cynthia called again, rapping a little harder on the door.
The doors in this house were damned solid. A hint of a noise drifted through. A muffled curse. The faint rustle of bedclothes.
She knocked once more. “Nick, it’s almost time for dinner!”
She couldn’t go downstairs by herself. Her nerves were a jangling mess of wires and barbs. Guests had been arriving all day, and Cynthia had only just begun to relax into the idea of being in a duke’s home. Even after two days, she still jumped like a frightened mouse whenever His Grace entered a room. The duchess, however, no longer scared her at all. She was enticingly mysterious though, and Cynthia wondered what her guests would be like.
At the thought of the mill of lords and ladies she was about to face, Cyn raised her fist to knock again, but the door finally swung open.
“I take it you had a good nap?” The words were out of her mouth before she registered Nick’s pale face and sweat-damp brow. “Are you ill?”
