Chapter 8 #2
Adrian gestured for him to sit down. He understood the rules, but he liked going to the Serpent’s Coil and other places outside of London because he didn’t want his life to be completely controlled by polite Society.
If he wished to have a private conversation with Kettering, they would not be disturbed here.
He also ordered a tankard of the tavern’s strongest draught and quickly gulped half of it.
“I assume all is well with our accounts?” he asked evenly after wiping a dribble of liquid from his chin.
“All square, Your Grace. We’ve done the business and then some. Got the usual readies and a bit o’ brass. I’ve also clocked a few gaffs bringin’ in the lolly. Still, we gotta keep a sharp peeper out, all the same. I’ve been seein’ Briarwood’s touts sniffin’ about the boozing kens.”
Adrian was not surprised. Briarwood was competitive and nothing, not Adrian’s marriage to Daphne or an oncoming tempest could stop that.
“Briarwood does not know what stability looks like. Let them sniff if they want.”
“Gawd’s truth, Your Grace. I’m game as pebble on what we’re doin.
’ We’ve got proper pals in the flash houses, especially the Obsidian Card.
They know we run on quiet and discretion.
Still, I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink if I didn’t mention ‘ow unsettled I am about the pace they’re pokin’ their minces ‘round the spots.”
“They come supposedly incognito?”
“Aye, Your Grace. But our chaps clocked the whole squad of ‘em sharpish. See, might he be tryin’ to sneak a wag in, since he reckons yer wool-gathering with the new wife?”
“Me? Wool-gathering?” Adrian echoed, looking and sounding offended.
Deep inside, though, he wondered if his wife was not already distracting him. He had been so close to kissing her before, but had stopped himself before he took advantage. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to pull himself away from her luscious mouth that was just begging to be kissed.
Adrian lifted his tankard once more and gulped heartily, aiming to squelch the fire of his passions that were bubbling and brewing hot for his wife, but even as he drained the dregs and slammed the mug down on the tabletop, he still felt dissatisfied.
“I deeply apologize, Your Grace,” Kettering hastily said, lowering his gaze to his lap.
The Duke rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. He was rattled by the earlier encounter with Daphne—there was no denying that truth. His feelings for her were confusing. He wanted to seduce her, but he also wanted her to want him first.
There was a spark, or so he believed.
Her lips trembled and he could tell she saw how his gaze had dropped to them. But her defiance remained.
She had built walls around her heart and mind to protect herself, and for good reasons. She was born of a cruel father and a mother who only saw her as a product to sell. A link to the ton.
Adrian stared at the bottom of his empty tankard.
But there was something between us before.
He had felt her anxiousness and known that she was doing her level best to conceal her feelings.
If only she had acted. If she had given me a sign…one single indication that she wanted me to take charge, I would have…
He could not allow the image to coalesce in his mind.
Lately, his thoughts had been filled with visions of Daphne.
Sometimes, she was merely dancing a lively jig or sauntering through the drawing room and making plans for how she wished to redecorate next.
But other times he pictured her removing pins from her hair and allowing the luxurious locks to topple around her shoulders.
Adrian was aroused by the mere thought of seeing his proper wife so undone.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Adrian muttered at last, remembering that he was in a crowded tavern and meant to be having a conversation with his consultant, Kettering. “I may be a little distracted. It always happens when things are not quite as I anticipated.”
Kettering nodded in understanding. The two were just about to settle in companionable silence when a booming but familiar voice pierced through even the noisy tavern.
“Well, well! But how did I know you’d be here even though you had just married, Wolfcrest? You seem to be plotting something important, like the downfall of your enemies.”
Caleb St. John, Marquess of Amberwell, Adrian’s closest friend, sauntered over, already certain to be invited. He looked too cheerful in the dim backdrop of the Serpent’s Coil. He slapped Kettering hard on the back, making the older man splutter over his beer.
“Good evening, Amberwell,” Adrian greeted dully. “I am certainly not surprised that you are here.”
“Of course! Imagine if I didn’t come. Who would then do this?” Caleb asked, turning and then shouting, “More ale and whiskey here!”
Soon, they were rewarded with a round of drinks.
“Thank you,” Kettering replied, happily taking an ale even though he barely even got through his first beer.
Caleb nodded magnanimously at Kettering then lifted a tumbler of whiskey and took a slow sip. “Ah… yes… that is quite good.” He lowered the glass and gently twirled his hand, swirling the amber liquid inside. “Now, let us be candid with one another, gents. What are you doing here, Wolfcrest?”
“What are you doing here? Disturbing the peace?” Adrian retorted, and smirked when Caleb laughed loudly.
“If you really want to know, Wolfcrest, I had to force myself to leave my house and avoid getting roped into some party where debutantes would laugh at me.” He huffed indignantly.
“I do not know why the young ladies this Season are bent on being so very giggly, but I find it quite obnoxious.” He took another drink from his cup.
“I prefer it here,” he explained, his smile not fading.
Then, without even pausing, he turned to the barmaid setting yet another round of drinks on their table and said, “Thank you, love.”
The trio engaged in casual conversation until Kettering stood up and excused himself. “I must truly get back to my wife. Thank you, my Lord, and Your Grace, but she worries about me when I’m out late.”
Adrian could hear what was unsaid there. Kettering’s wife knew they had dealings that had garnered them enemies, or at least competitors. Kettering was also supposed to be the head of operations, while the Duke maneuvered in secret.
“Excellent decision, Kettering!” Caleb approved, laughing heartily. “You must go to the safety of your own bed. Quickly!”
And that was exactly what Kettering did. He gave his hasty final goodbyes and scuttered away as if his pants were on fire. When the manager was gone, Caleb turned his full attention on his friend.
“What about you?” Caleb asked, leaning his elbows on the wooden table, without a care for the fact it was sticky.
“Why aren’t you in bed with your new young wife?
It’s been barely a month since you married her, and you’ve already taken to leaving her alone at night?
How is that possible? She is far from horrendous, and I suspect that she is willing enough to share her bedchamber with you.
Shouldn’t you be practicing for an heir instead of drowning your sorrows at the Coil? ”
Adrian glared at his friend, feeling the tight pressure in his jaw. “I am not here because of sorrow or any imagined problem, Amberwell. I am here to conduct business.”
“Mm,” Caleb said, raising an eyebrow. Then, he gulped hard from his tankard. “If you ask me, it does not seem as though you and your new Duchess are conducting any business.”
Adrian snorted. “No one asked you.”
“They did not,” Caleb agreed merrily. He cast a sly wink at his friend. “But tell me truly, why are you not with the Duchess tonight? Has she grown tired of your mercurial temper?” He cocked his head to the side and lowered his voice marginally. “Is there trouble in paradise already, my friend?”
“There is no trouble,” Adrian said smoothly. “I am merely escaping the many questions that woman has.”
He felt terrible about calling his wife “that woman” but it simply spilled out of him. He sounded defensive to his ears. “I have given her ample allowance to work on the redesign of the various rooms, but she wants more.”
“How dare she?” The Marquess pressed a hand to his chest and feigned a look of shock.
“Please,” Adrian ground out. “Do be serious—for once.”
“Ah well…” Amberwell clapped him heartily on the back a second time. “I do wish that you were up for having more fun tonight, but I also understand your vexation.”
“You do?” Adrian shifted in his seat slightly so he could gauge just how inebriated his friend was already. Usually, Amberwell sought to tease and antagonize for much longer than this and it almost felt like he was giving up too easily.
“Your wife is a woman with spirit. Ah. I am pleasantly surprised. I heard the duchess used to be the most obedient daughter, the one Lady Grisham had been molding into her likeness,” his friend mused.
“I do recall that your father had warned you, in his own way, about marrying anyone with half a brain to think for herself. So, what does your spirited duchess want to know? What does she already know about your investments?” His eyes twinkled.
“And what does she want to change on your estate?”
“She suspects my dealings, undoubtedly having heard about the Wolf of Wolfcrest’s activities,” Adrian admitted. “She wants to know where I was during our wedding night and why Briarwood seems to be afraid of me.”
“Well, if I were the bride, I would certainly be alarmed if my groom was more interested in leaving the estate than making love to me.” Caleb returned to his teasing ways as he leaned back and gave Adrian a self-satisfied smirk.
“On a more serious note, she is not wrong to be curious. She had the attention of one dangerous man she was trying to avoid, only to end up married to another? That would be enough to have any woman tied up in knots.”