Chapter Seventeen
Denham House
St. James Place
Mayfair, England
Though it was a dull day outside the window with fat gray clouds scudding across the sky, the atmosphere inside was cheerful and secure.
When his wife beckoned at him from the doorway, he set aside the book he’d been reading, told the boy he would return shortly, then joined Abigail in the corridor.
“Is all well?”
“Yes, of course.” She drew him away from the door. “The Duke of Blackhawke has arrived to speak with you.”
What the devil was Blackhawke here to say? “Why did you not let the butler tell me?”
“Can I not steal a few moments alone with my husband?” Amusement twinkled in her eyes as she put a hand to his chest and gave him a tiny shove until his back connected with the wall. “But this missive also came for you.” She tucked a folded envelope into the pocket of his waistcoat.
“Who is it from?”
“I couldn’t say, but it bears the seal of your club.”
Intrigued, Wallace pulled out the envelope, broke the seal, and then tugged out the one-page missive. “It’s from Ravenhurst.”
A frown pulled the corners of her mouth downward. “Why? I thought he was so enamored of his wife and new baby that he didn’t care about club happenings.”
“True, but something must have stirred his ire.” Ravenhurst was a new father, for his first child had been born almost three months prior. Rapidly scanning the short note, he sighed. “It seems Darkemore has returned to Town from Cornwall. He is on the hunt of a foe who’d eluded him during the war.”
“That can’t be a good thing,” Abigail said as she took the note from him.
“No, because while he was away in Cornwall, we were all spared his temper. He was in London around Christmastide, but now it seems he’s here for more than a quick visit. I think he has a sister in Town.”
“Let us hope he doesn’t cause too much scandal. You are at the club far too much these days.”
“Only because the men are growing out of hand, as evidenced with Blackhawke’s recent descent into apparent madness.”
She nodded. “Well, don’t linger downstairs.”
“Why?”
“It is too bad that Bartholomew doesn’t have lessons with tutors today, for I would like to steal you away for a couple of hours.”
She was nothing if not surprising. Heated desire streaked through his length. “I’m sure we can easily arrange something. Perhaps his governess will engage him in painting, or I can arrange them to take a carriage ride around Mayfair.”
“Either of those scenarios would be most welcome. Of course, we can wait until nightfall after the boy has gone to bed.” When her gaze fell to his mouth, he already knew he couldn’t delay for that long.
“Good.” Tugging her into his arms, Wallace couldn’t help but kiss her. In fact, several moments passed before she wrenched away and out of reach. “I suppose I should see what Blackhawke wants.”
“He is in your study, but afterward, I would like to send Bartholomew to tea with his governess then you should meet me in your bed. I am in great need of the pleasure only you can provide.”
Heat moved up the back of his neck, for when Abigail was in this sort of mood, there was nothing for it but to fuck her senseless, and spend the following couple of hours basking in bed with her by his side. “I’ll try to make this visit a quick one.”
“I hope so.” After a nip to the underside of his jaw, Abigail moved toward the drawing room doors. “Don’t make me wait too long, Eggleton.” Then she vanished within.
God, it was difficult to navigate the stairs with a cockstand, but somehow Wallace managed it. When he arrived in his study, it was to find Blackhawke sitting in one of the leather chairs facing the desk. “Blackhawke? Why are you here?” There was no sense in indulging in niceties, at least not now.
The other man glanced at him, but there was a bit of a difference in him, perhaps a lightness or his eyes not quite as haunted as there’d been before when they’d last spoken in person. “I wanted to update you regarding what has been happening in my life since you sent Udolpho out to check on me.”
“If you are waiting on an apology from me, you won’t have it,” Eggleton said as he leaned a hip against the side of his desk and crossed his arms at his chest. “Your recent actions prompted action on my part. And perhaps I hoped things would work out.”
“Next time, come yourself. I don’t appreciate the high-handedness.”
Wallace snorted. “So says the man who kidnapped an innocent woman.”
Blackhawke didn’t appear ruffled in the least. “It doesn’t matter. Eloise and I are wed. We are trying to move forward from our respective pasts.”
“Well, you are obviously doing something right, for you look… refreshed, let’s say.” He softened his stance. “I assume all is well?”
“As good as can be expected. As my wife has convinced me, love doesn’t behave like the fairytales will have us believe. It won’t vanish away all problems. We must do the work, but love provides a cushion.”
Wallace’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You love her?”
“I do.” A faint flush went up Blackhawke’s neck over his collar. “It was a realization, and Eloise practically gave me a dressing down for wishing to leave this mortal coil.”
“Ah, I’d wondered, for you were adamant.”
The other man nodded. “I still have such thoughts, of course, but she’s there to help me. However, I must talk with her when those times occur. I am... learning. After all this time, I am learning a different way to live.”
“But at least you are living.”
“Yes.” Then Blackhawke yawned. “I must say, being wed is nothing like I thought it would be. My wife exhausts me at times.”
Wallace couldn’t help his laughter. “I know the feeling, my friend, but I’m glad you are finding a new way.”
“As am I.” With a groan, the other man stood. “Regardless, I dropped by to tell you that my wife and I are going up to the Lake District for the summer. As a honeymoon of sorts. Any votes needed in parliament can be conducted by proxy, but I feel this is more important.”
“Agreed.” Wallace escorted his friend to the door. “Take as much time as you need to usher in healing, and show that lovely wife of yours your favorite spots on your estate. Wretched weather, of course, but if there is snow that far north, it will prove romantic.”
The other man nodded. “I hope the roads are decent enough.”
“Well, if they aren’t, you can come back. It isn’t the location so much as the one you have by your side.”
“That is exactly it, Eggleton.” Remarkably, Blackhawke smiled. “Again, I’m learning.”
“I’m happy for you.” He clapped a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you are still with us, Blackhawke. I don’t wish to lose a friend.”
“That means much.” For the space of a heartbeat, Blackhawke met his gaze. “It is a daily struggle and sometimes a fight, but what’s important is always worth that fight.”
With a nod, Wallace led him out into the corridor. “Be sure to write. I look forward to seeing you again once autumn arrives.”
“Thank you, again, Eggleton, for your support. It means much, even if I haven’t shown it.” Then, with a nod, Blackhawke strode along the corridor toward the entry hall.
Well, damn. Life still had the ability to surprise him, and seeing Blackhawke matched, married, and happy gave him hope that the rest could be rehabilitated.