An Earl of her Own (Saints and Sinners 3)
He opened his eyes and looked about his empty room. If romantic love were denied him, Adam must choose with his head. But what qualities did he want in a second wife?
The answers came quickly. The lady he would marry had to have the right family connections, intelligence, obviously, a sweet, biddable temperament, and most of all they had to be compatible in the bedchamber. Someone nearer his age would be acceptable too. Giggling young ladies fresh on the marriage mart were a trial to talk to. He wouldn’t want to bed one.
He also wanted someone who might come to care about him one day.
A lady he could tease.
He grinned suddenly, remembering the day in a completely different light.
Adam had flirted with Rebecca Warner today and survived to do it again. She had complained, of course, but still had shown real concern for his wellbeing. He had thoroughly enjoyed being the center of the woman’s attention too, even if the peace between them couldn’t last. Rebecca had made it plain on many occasions that she did not approve of him. As a wife Rebecca Warner would be unbearable. He’d never have a moment’s peace.
Adam lifted his hand to his head and carefully felt through his hair for the wound. He must have hit his head harder than he suspected to be considering Rebecca as anything more than someone to annoy on occasion.
If he were truly foxed, out of his mind with drink, he would never consider the effort it would take to win Rebecca Warner’s good opinion for any reason.
No, Rebecca Warner would never do for him as a wife. He probably shouldn’t pursue her for a lover either. Rebecca was most definitely the marry first, kiss later sort of female. She would not fall easily into his arms.
He tossed the bottle aside in frustration.
No, Adam required wife not a lover. He needed a son to inherit Gable Park and his fortune. In a few short years, he would be launching Ava on the marriage mart also. He’d need help for that, so of course, a wife would help with the chore.
A knock sounded at the door, and he looked up slowly—almost excited that Mrs. Warner might have returned to check on him but discovered her father instead. He was profoundly disappointed by that.
The Duke of Stapleton waited at the open door, a ready smile on his face. “Can I come in?”
“Assuredly.” Adam sat up straighter when he noticed the duke had a fresh bottle in his hand. “Is that rum, perchance?”
“Indeed,” the duke murmured as he uncorked the bottle, and Adam caught the scent a moment later.
“Thank you.” Adam needed a stronger beverage to get him through the long and lonely night ahead. He had been feeling sorry for himself since the accident. And since Adam’s confession to Rebecca about his late wife’s fickle nature, he had become unwisely nostalgic, too. He missed being married, even if his union hadn’t been ideal in the end. He was glad of the distraction a new bottle brought, and his host, too. “The bottles of sweet wine you sent up earlier have done their job, and I’m ready to continue.”
The duke frowned. “I didn’t send any wine up to you.”
“Ah, well, whoever it was knows my tastes well.”
The duke smiled and handed over a refilled glass. “How are you feeling now?”
“I’ll be right as rain soon enough.”
“Good.”
Adam sipped the stronger beverage slowly, relishing the taste. A few of these and thoughts of what he’d put himself through soon would indeed be banished from his mind tonight. The marriage mart was no picnic, and he’d be returning for the season to survey the available ladies every year until he had chosen a wife. Stapleton had had it blessedly easy. “So the announcement was made but have you really made peace with your youngest’s decision?”
The duke scowled and strolled to the window and looked out. “She gave me little choice in the end.”
“And Whitfield? Have you really forgiven him?”
The duke continued to stare out the window and didn’t answer.
Adam swung his legs off the bed and stood slowly. He was very pleased the world was steady again because he’d had as much lying about as he could tolerate for one day.
He shuffled to the window to see what kept the duke’s attention.
Out on the lawn, in full view of everyone at the manor, Whitfield and his future bride were holding what seemed to be an enthralling discussion as the sun set. Adam remembered those sweet moments fondly. Holding hands, stealing kisses, and the later discreet encounters that made falling in love so easy. For him, those heady days hadn’t lasted much beyond the first year.
“No one can help who they fell in love with.”
“It’s an adjustment.” The duke looked at Adam and nodded. “But there’s no turning back now. Besides, what does it matter anyway whether I’m happy or not?”