18. Chapter 18
eighteen
D avid spent the first couple of days after Jenny left ensconced within the walls of Heathercote, pretending to the world to enjoy a honeymoon with his bride while being all alone.
He passed the time working with Millicent, hiking the estate, and wallowing in silence in his rooms. He hadn’t allowed the maids into his bedroom to change his bed linens.
He wanted to keep all traces of his wife—that is how he thought of her now—close to him.
He wanted to smell her on his pillows when he slept.
It was a tiny indulgence he allowed himself because in London it would be as if their night together had never happened, no matter that he could vividly recall every moment of it.
Indeed, upon his return to London, there was no trace of Jenny to be found.
Her scent had long been washed from his skin, and she’d never visited his home.
Other than a handful of correspondence acknowledging his marriage, she might not have existed, which was for the best. His desk at the family office in Belgravia was piled with contracts and invoices.
The Feldings owned property all over Europe and the Americas, most of it industrial and commercial spaces, though Alfred had expanded into residential terrace homes in the past decade.
Real estate had been a respectable way to earn a living for nobility when trade and commerce were out of the question.
They also owned shares in lucrative copper mines.
David had often given thanks to his forebears who had the good sense to expand beyond their domestic estates for income, but now he had another reason to give thanks.
It gave him something to do that took his mind off Jenny.
He threw himself into work. The only times he thought of her during the day were when he finished drafting a contract and remembered her disbelief that he ever managed to do anything other than pleasure himself.
He passed so many hours at the office that he ran out of work.
He’d spent years delegating his duties so that his own workload wasn’t overly substantial.
Instead of going home, he asked for more tasks, possibly setting the ecology of the office out of order, but it kept him sane.
Her memory would find him at night and haunt him relentlessly until morning, and it didn’t matter how many times he took himself in hand. The craving for her was always there but out of reach.
It was almost a relief when he walked into his terraced home after a long dinner with Alfred and their Italian agent to find his friend Prince Edward Singh waiting for him.
“Finally, he’s home.” His friend’s voice came from the drawing room. He stepped out and lodged a shoulder against the door frame, cradling a nearly empty snifter of brandy in his hand.
David had known the prince since their school days when the three of them, including Devonworth, had snuck out relentlessly to drink in the pub in the next village over. During breaks when Edward didn’t have to return to India, they’d abscond to some foreign city and enjoy the local wine and women.
“Your Highness,” David said drolly and shrugged out of his coat for Snowden, his butler, to take away. “You’re back in London, I see.”
Edward gave him a nod. “My apologies for missing your wedding. I wasn’t able to make it back from New York in time.”
David waved him off. “Your letter and condolences were sufficient.” Edward had been in New York with his family as they considered a possible match for his younger sister to some industrialist or other. “Was the match for the princess successful?”
Edward made a face of disgust. “He was unacceptable to her. Uncultured, uncouth.” He tipped the glass back to drain the liquid. “Actually, I think she had her eye on you. When I told her the news of your wedding she seemed…sad.”
“She’s a child,” David deadpanned.
“We were in New York to arrange her wedding.”
“I’m at least ten years her senior.”
“She’s only a couple years younger than your current wife, if my guess is right.”
David frowned at the mention of Jenny. He didn’t like talking about her with people. He also didn’t like her referred to as if her presence in his life was transitory.
Edward shrugged and set his empty glass on a nearby table. “I couldn’t stand having you as a brother at any rate.”
“Is that why you’re here? You’ve come to tell me I disappointed your sister?”
His friend laughed. “Lady Florence is having a gathering tonight. I haven’t attended one since you and I went back in June. I thought you might want to come. Did you receive an invitation?”
David almost said no but then glanced to the gold tray on the marble-topped table where the post was always kept. He hadn’t looked at it in a couple days. Walking over, he picked up the first few invitations to find one marked with a familiar hand. “It appears I have.”
Lady Florence was known for throwing the most outrageous parties.
They started pleasantly enough with live musicians and guests from all over the world, but by midnight they usually devolved into orgies and voyeuristic fantasies.
David always received an invitation because he was one of her favorites .
His lungs squeezed tight while he examined the invitation, as if the air was stuck with no place to go.
Part of him seized on the idea right away.
Back at Heathercote when David watched Jenny leave, he’d known that this was the answer to the strange ailment that had made him ache.
He needed sex to remove all remnants of her.
But another part of him balked at going.
He didn’t want all traces of her to be gone.
He didn’t want another woman to replace the feel of her on his body.
Before the wedding, his celibacy had been important to her. How would she feel now?
Sensing his hesitation, Edward frowned. “You do want to go, do you not? Didn’t you profess the marriage was an issue of convenience? Certainly she won’t mind?”
“No, she won’t mind,” he answered quickly.
They had agreed to live their lives as if they were unencumbered. She could be in Paris now attending a similar party. His stomach gave a sharp twist at that and left him nauseous. He ground his molars, refusing to be jealous. If she wanted another, he wouldn’t stop her.
Edward’s head tilted in concern. “David?”
“Yes, let’s go. It will be a diverting amusement. Give me a moment.” David hurried to the stairs and called for his valet. He’d need to shave and change his clothes.
“Apologies, your lordship.”
David paused to see Snowden lingering in the entryway, still holding David’s outerwear. He’d never left. He lifted the parcel lying next to the rest of the posts. “This arrived for you earlier. It appears important.”
It looked like a contract or some other thick document wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string.
No doubt his brother or the Italian agent had decided the boring dinner hadn’t been long enough and now they wanted to suck out any bit of pleasure he could find in what was left of the evening. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“But ’tis from—”
“Tomorrow, Snowden.” David bounded up the rest of the stairs, faintly hearing the butler’s reply that he’d leave it on the table.
Half an hour later, they were in Edward’s carriage making the quick trip across Mayfair to Bloomsbury, where Florence lived.
She was a wealthy widow who was in the peculiar position of being both heiress to her late husband’s fortune and her own family’s money.
Perhaps that was why she was given to excess, she’d always had everything she wanted.
It’s why David enjoyed her company. She never asked or even expected more than he could give.
The closer they drove, the more he was certain this was what he needed to get Jenny off his mind.
After a night at one of her charming parties, he’d be more himself again.
It was nearing midnight by the time they alighted from the carriage. The music of several stringed instruments and a piano could be heard from the pavement. A footman opened the door before they could knock and laughter came spilling out into the night.
The man bowed and graciously accepted their invitations before stepping back. “Good to see you, Your Highness, Lord David.”
David stepped inside and was assailed by a fresh wave of nausea.
He was starting to think the fish at dinner had turned.
From here, the party looked like a perfectly respectable event with guests mingling and talking.
He took a breath and made his way into the throng in search of a good drink and Florence.
“Good evening,” he said to various acquaintances he passed.
Edward saw someone and took off in that direction to say hello. David continued to the bar, where a fine and nearly priceless whisky was waiting. He tossed back the whole thing before asking for another. He’d barely got it into his hands before Florence found him .
“Lord David Felding, I didn’t think you were coming.”
He turned to greet the woman crossing the very crowded room to him.
Florence had always been a beauty and age had only enhanced her appeal.
She was at least twenty years his senior.
Daily fencing lessons and horse riding at her country estate kept her in excellent form.
He knew personally how strong her thighs were.
She wore a crimson gown, which set off her black hair and pale skin to perfection.
A devastating smile lit her face, demanding nothing more than he was willing to give—a fleeting encounter in bed.
It felt hollow. The opposite of Jenny’s.
Nevertheless, he smiled with genuine affection and bent to kiss the cheek she presented to him. “Wonderful to see you, Florence. It’s been too long.”
“Months,” she lamented.
“You spent the summer traveling,” he reminded her.
“And you got yourself married.” She whacked him fondly on the arm.