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Chapter Ten
May 12, 1819
Percival shoved a hand through his hair. A hand that shook, for he hadn’t had a drink since the day before he’d bedded Lavinia as his wife instead of his mistress. The night that he’d given her a real ring to represent their marriage. The night he’d coupled with her, put her pleasure front and center, had become twisted up in confusing emotions, for that bit of intimacy had meant something more than just a physical release.
Since there were no more spirits on the sideboard in the drawing—or any other room for that matter—he paced the length of the room, back and forth, for his mind wasn’t settled and not taking a drink to muddle the thoughts had brought a level of vexation he’d not experienced in years.
That bothered and frightened him. If he continued to grow closer to Lavinia, what would happen to him if she were to leave his life for whatever reason? Already, he was a wreck, and would be even more so as he continued to learn how to live without numbing his feelings with drink.
“Perhaps I didn’t think this through as well as I previously thought,” he said to the window where he’d paused.
A snort from behind him caused him to turn about. His best friend, Lord Randolph stood there, the sunlight rendering his blond hair golden. “From the way I remember it, there was no thinking at all before you married your countess.”
Heat went up the back of Percival’s neck. Obviously, the man knew more of the truth than he did. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I asked Stanton not to announce me. There’s no need.” He raked his gaze up and down Percival’s person. “You’re looking well all things considered.” Then he came closer and frowned. “However, I’m going to revise my opinion.”
“Oh?”
Randolph nodded. “You’re exhibiting signs of stress and perhaps anxiety.” His focus dropped to Percival’s hand that shook until he curled it into a fist. “Never say you’re finally making a concentrated effort to get off the drink.” Surprise wove through the inquiry.
“What else could I do after you confiscated my supply?” He shot a glance toward the empty sideboard. He’d give anything for a quick taste of brandy on his tongue. At least then he wouldn’t need to traverse the quagmire of confusion he currently meandered through, and he wouldn’t be compelled to try and puzzle out what Lavinia currently meant. Obviously, he didn’t hold feelings of romantic love for her, but he was exceedingly fond of her. And after that carnal session two days ago, something had changed between them.
“Your butler told me you’d cheated after I made the first overture.” His friend dropped heavily onto a low sofa and promptly rested an ankle on a knee.
“Of course he would. This whole damned household is full of loose-lipped staff.” And he feared if he didn’t gain control over that, the rumors would overflow into society. With nothing else to do, Percival sat in a chair near Lord Randolph’s location. “But yes, I did steal a bottle from the butler’s pantry. Lavinia caught me and promptly dumped it out the window.”
“Ah. Where is the lovely Lady Laughton today?”
“She’s gone to visit her sister and attend to charity work. At least that’s what she told me.”
Surprise lined his friend’s expression. “You doubt her word?”
“No, I just didn’t know that about her.”
“Poor Percival, popped into chaos all due to a pretty face.” Amusement danced in his friend’s eyes. “How are things between you and the new countess?”
“At the moment, they are… well.” He couldn’t quite tamp the beginnings of a grin. “We have come to an understanding.”
Randolph snorted. “Meaning you’ve fucked her.”
“That’s rather a bald way of putting it.” Percival narrowed his eyes. “It was so much more than that.”
“Is that so.” It wasn’t a question, but his eyebrows soared. “Pray tell what was it, exactly, then?”
The heat on Percival’s neck intensified, yet he wished to remain as truthful as possible. “A promise and a commitment to the woman who is my wife.” He’d found, much to his surprise, that shifting the point of view while bringing Lavinia to pleasure had somehow managed to enhance his own. When he didn’t put himself at the forefront, didn’t demand she perform certain acts only for his benefit, when he’d wished to please her, make her feel valued, there was so much more… joy in the coupling than there’d been before. The release he’d claimed had been that much sweeter, more intense.
What was more, it reminded him of what he’d had with his first wife, that personal connection where he thought he could do anything as long as he had her support.
How the devil is that possible?
“I’m impressed, Laughton.” His expression reflected that sentiment. “I’m heartily glad to see you’re growing as a person into someone I can admire.”
Percival frowned. “You didn’t before?”
“Not while you were under the influence of the drink, and certainly not while your arrogance was at an all-time high.” His friend shook his head. “I tolerated you, because our friendship goes back a long time.”
The words cut through his chest with the accuracy of a sharp knife. “I never knew that.”
