Free The Duke of Morewether’s Secret by Amylynn Bright Page B

appeared within minutes. It was good to be a duke. Sometimes.
    It didn’t seem to matter to Thea he was a duke. For probably the first time, a lady wasn’t seduced by his title. In fact, as far as he could tell, the fact that he was a peer lowered her opinion of him. How ironic really that she was the first woman he’d wanted to seduce in a very, very long time, and he’d have to work hard at it.
    And yet, he was totally unnerved by her. She perturbed him in a way he couldn’t remember happening since he was in school. His well-worn reputation peeled away from him like bark from a tree, leaving him unsure of himself and discomposed. Afterwards, after he’d fled their latest encounter, he’d found himself completely obsessed with the conversation, every word, every look, every pause must have some significance.
    “Good God.” Christian knocked back another hefty swallow of whiskey. “You’re turning into a woman.”
    “It’s a good thing you have that pretty face then, isn’t it?” Lord Dalton, settled uninvited into the matching leather chair to his right. “What are you drinking?”
    “Everything,” the servant answered before Christian did. “What may I bring you, My Lord?”
    “A brandy, Hobson.” Dalton crossed his ankle over his knee and gave every appearance of settling in for a long tenure. He leveled his blue eyes at Christian in a steady, curious stare. “Whom are you drowning?”
    Christian made a herculean effort to return the stare, but it seemed one eye kept wandering over to the left. He blinked hard and gave up the attempt. “Me. I’m drowning me.”
    “Well, you smell like you’re making an outstanding run at it.” Dalton’s gaze trained on him, taking his measure and giving every impression the man was reading his mind.
    The quiet stare continued until Christian couldn’t take it anymore. “What?”
    Dalton shrugged. “Nothing. I didn’t come here to reenact the inquisition.”
    “Then why are you here?”
    “Why are drunks always so full of themselves? My being here has nothing to do with you. For your information, Olivia threw me out. She told me my fussing was driving her insane and insisted I go pester someone else for a while.”
    “I’m not available for pestering right now, but thank you very much.” Christian didn’t know anything about pregnant women, well, nothing about them after the original encounter anyway, but he understood how the man’s wife could grow tired of Dalton’s old hen act.
    “You’d think she’d like the attention, but no.” Dalton shrugged. “Francesca says I shouldn’t take it personally.”
    Christian shrugged. “I make it a habit to take everything personally.”
    Dalton chuckled. “Then take the following any way you will. You look like shit.” Christian sat still while Dalton did a more thorough job of assessing his person. The man’s gaze traveled over him, taking in his rumpled dress blacks and unraveled neck cloth, but lingered for an extra heartbeat on his face. Dalton waved his hand in front of him. “What’s going on with this?”
    “With what?” Christian demanded, even though he knew full well what his friend was referring to. “A man can’t sit comfortably in his club and enjoy a drink by himself?”
    His friend shrugged and took a thoughtful sip from his own glass. “Certainly. Many men in fact do. However this is not typical of you, my friend, so it makes me wonder.”
    Christian’s only answer was another long pull at his glass. The amber liquid no longer burned as it went down, but left a warm, comforting trail of soothing punishment in its wake. His stomach roiled a bit, and it occurred to him briefly perhaps he should eat something or suffer in the morning.
    “Are you angry at someone?” Dalton asked.
    “No.” Yes . Oh, yes, and he’d make that person suffer for it, too. He was an idiot.
    “All right, don’t bite my head off. I only asked because you’re usually a fun drunk and tonight you seem