Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(99)

“Second,” Hetta continued, cutting off Lucy’s objection, “Lord Kendall does not strike me as a gentleman who would be bullied into anything. Quite the reverse. Surely you’ve noticed that he need only flash that glare of his to send people scurrying. He’s considered more than a bit intimidating.”

“Well, I’m not one to be bullied, either,” Lucy said. “And he can’t intimidate me with that Look. Believe me, he’s tried for years, but I just know him too well to believe there’s anything behind it. And if you think he’s pleasing to look at when he’s glowering …” She sighed. “You ought to see him when he smiles.”

Hetta looked at her for a moment, eyebrows raised. Then she rose to her feet and gathered up her valise. “Well, that’s a relief,” she said, already heading toward the door. “You didn’t need my advice, after all.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Toby said, sipping his Madeira. “You can give me a bit of advice.”

“Advice?” Jeremy snorted. “Why would you want my advice?”

“Well, you’re a married man now, aren’t you? Don’t you want to give me a speech about the duties of matrimony?”

Jeremy sighed. He should have known better than to come to the club. Of course, Toby would be in Town making wedding arrangements. Jeremy had perfectly good whiskey at the town house. Why had he not simply stayed at home?

“Toby, if you still don’t know how to perform your marital duties, you need more than my advice. I can recommend you to a few capable tutors, if need be.”

“You know I don’t meanthat.” Toby chuckled. “I mean, don’t you have some profound wisdom to impart on the care and feeding of a wife? Everyone else has. Felix won’t give up on the subject. He’s become quite insufferable.”

Perhaps Jeremy ought to be talking to Felix. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall maintain my sufferable silence.”

“Suit yourself.” Toby drained his Madeira. “I’m surprised to even see you here. Cutting the honeymoon a bit short, aren’t you?”

“I had business,” Jeremy grumbled into his whiskey. He was not interested in discussing his business, estate or personal, with Toby. “I return home tomorrow,” he added, lest Toby extend any unwelcome invitations.

Toby winked at him. “Eager to get back, I’ll expect.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to say. The truth of it was, he had no business being in London. He ought to be at home, as Toby kept insinuating, honeymooning with his new bride. But life with Lucy was killing him, one dinner at a time. He’d gotten exactly what he’d demanded—a sedate, proper wife—and he couldn’t have been more miserable. She scarcely seemed to eat anymore, and certainly not with any enjoyment. She dressed in new gowns and wore lace gloves; her hair was always perfectly coiffed. Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her hair tumbling down to her waist in that clamor of chestnut waves. Neither could he recall a cross word from her since …Since .

Jeremy sipped his whiskey and swallowed the bitter taste of tears.

And then had come the eventuality he’d been dreading since their wedding day. She wanted to leave him.

So he’d left her first.

London offered no end of diversions to keep his mind off Lucy. But his thoughts were with her more than ever. Or rather, she was with him, in his thoughts. Everywhere Jeremy went, he saw sights he wished he could show her, experiences he felt certain she would enjoy. Balls, opera, the theater, Vauxhall. Oh, and why stop with the traditional amusements for ladies? Knowing Lucy, she would not be satisfied until she’d attended her share of boxing matches, too.

“Shouldn’t you be with your intended?” Jeremy asked, wishing to change the subject. “You know, taking her to the theater or having dinner with her family?”

“Oh, Sophia hardly has time for me these days. I scarcely see her, unless she’s dragging me off to shop for lace or select blooms for her wedding posy. I’m telling you, Jem, you did things right. License, vicar, man-and-wife. It all happened so fast, I could scarcely believe it. Not that I was surprised, mind.”

Jeremy looked askance at him. “You weren’t surprised?”

“Of course not. I knew that was not ‘nothing’ between you and Lucy in the orchard, no matter what you said. Then there were Sophia’s little hints. And that letter sealed things nicely. But I knew even before the letter—else I wouldn’t have proposed to Sophia the way I did.”

Jeremy shifted in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Jem. Do you honestly think I would have done that in front of Lucy if I thought she were still in love with me? What kind of boor do you make me out to be?”

Jeremy wasn’t certain what to make of anything at the moment. He drained his whiskey, hoping for answers at the bottom of the glass.

“No, I knew,” Toby continued. “I’ve charmed many a young lady, Jem. Thousands, I’d guess. It’s not the sort of achievement that lends meaning to a man’s life, but it’s the one talent I’ve got. I know exactly the moment I have them hooked. That pretty blush spreads across their cheeks, and they look up at me through their eyelashes, lips pursed just so. It’s a thrill, every time. But just as I know the instant they fall for me, I can tell—with most distressing certainty—the precise moment they pick themselves up.”