“Yes, well,” Amesbury began, his face flushing red, “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize and I won’t either. But, bloody bugger, this invalid stuff is for the old and infirm. Not for me.” Thomas gritted his teeth and sucked in short and quick breaths as he leaned back against the pillows. “You two can go back to London if you want. No sense staying here with me and being bored out of your minds.”
“I’ll stay another day or two,” Amesbury said, and he turned to their other friend, a brow raised. “What about you?”
“I’ll stay awhile…nothing but soirées, balls, and evenings at Almack’s to avoid in London.” Myles raked his hands through his thick hair. “Bloody hell. I’ll not go back sooner than I have to. I have no intention of dealing with the marriage-mart mamas and their prissy daughters this season. As far as I’m concerned, the season is over.”
“I’m with you,” Amesbury agreed. “I just got out of one betrothal; I don’t want to get caught in another. You know how duplicitous those debutantes can be. I think half take lessons on how to play the shy, innocent virgin, and the others on seducing the opposite sex. By the way, Myles, what about that kiss I saw you share with Bella? What was that about?”
“Yes, well, that,” Myles stuttered. “I got caught up in the moment of our dear friend Wentworth’s recovery.”
“You kissed my sister?” Thomas asked.
“Yes,” Myles answered. “And God help me if I gave her false hope. As I just said, I got caught up in the moment.”
“If you say so. Just do not break my sister’s heart any worse than you already have. I would hate to call out my best friend at dawn. And Amesbury can’t possibly be second to both of us.” Thomas paused. “As for me and what you said about debutantes, Amesbury…well, I’m safe now.” Thomas grinned at his two best friends, then frowned while he thought about Emma. “Do you suppose Emma already regrets marrying me?”
“Hell, no,” Myles replied. “You should have seen her questioning the doctor and taking charge of your care. She has backbone. She’s going to make you a fine wife. She is already.” He grinned and his eyes gleamed with humor. “Unless you expect her to be docile and obedient.”
Thomas started to laugh. It turned into a cough, then into a groan. He sucked in some air and held his breath until the sharp pain subsided. “She isn’t either of those things and never was. Why would I expect her to change now that we’re married? Besides, can you imagine how boring life would be married to a silly, brainless chit?”
“Yes, well, I’ll pass on being married for a time,” Amesbury stuttered, “brainless chit or otherwise.”
“Yes, well….” Myles chuckled. “Good luck with that. Now that you’re a single marquess again, nothing will keep you safe from all the title-hungry debutantes and their mamas.”
“Damn,” Amesbury frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that. But I can hardly blame Lady Beth for breaking it off. I treated her horribly––avoiding her at all costs and ducking away every time I saw her.”
“She wasn’t for you,” Thomas said, now feeling guilty for being the one to encourage Lady Beth to break the marriage contract. Regardless, Thomas would stand by his reasons for interfering. What puzzled him was Amesbury’s sudden awkwardness around the fairer sex. Was it related to his opium use?
“Excuse me, Your Grace.” Giles tapped on the door, then opened it. “This just came for you, and it is marked ‘Urgent and Private.’”
“Who is it from?” Thomas hissed out between stabs of pain, having pushed his body beyond its comfort level.
“I do not know. It came by hired messenger,” his valet replied.
“Give it to Myles.” Thomas struggled to adjust his position on the bed. “Myles, please read it aloud.”
Thomas Seabrook, Duke of Wentworth,
I know how you came to be in possession of the Hamilton fortune and that Hamilton is not the real family name. Trenton is. If you would like to keep this information from your newly acquired bride and from the gossip rags--and I do believe when the Prince finds out you married the granddaughter of a traitor you will be stripped of you title and lands--my silence can be bought for fifty thousand pounds. Place the money in the London National Bank in Account Number 00516 within three days.
“The bastard,” Myles said as he handed the letter to his friend. “Surely you are not going to comply?”