Free Terri Brisbin by The Duchesss Next Husband Page B

polite eyes of the past five years. “I leave for London tomorrow. Please let Thompson know if you will be traveling with us. Or possibly you’d prefer to go at another time?”
    She felt as though he’d slapped her squarely across her face, and she flinched at his cold tone now. Her skin felt clammy and her stomach heaved at his rebuke. Pulling herself back, she retreated to the practiced civility that he had.
    “As Your Grace wishes, of course.” Clearly, he did not want to suffer her company back to town.
    “Well, then. I still have business to see to before I leave. You will excuse me?”
    It wasn’t truly a question, so he did not wait for her response. With a nod, he walked from the room and the footman closed the door behind him. Even the loud rough coughing that erupted from the duke in the corridor did not give her any measure of satisfaction.
    Miranda sat unmoving on the chair, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. This was the reason one did not behave inappropriately—the pain in her heart crushed her and threatened to crush her soul, as well. Regardless of any change to him these last few days, Adrian Warfield was still the Duke of Windmere with all that that entailed. And she was the Duchess of Windmere.
    And damn her foolish heart for forgetting that for even a moment.

Chapter Eight
    “W hy did we push off now?” Parker asked, taking a seat opposite him in the coach. “And where is the duchess?”
    “The duchess prefers to travel back to town by herself.” Adrian did not know if that were the truth or not, but he would not admit it to Parker and bring about another round of griping and whining.
    “That’s not so, Windmere. Her Grace told me on our way here that she dreads the journey to and fro Windmere Park.”
    Probably not as much as she would dread being trapped in the same coach with him now. Her blue eyes, wounded and filling with tears, haunted him. His cruelty had been deliberate, but even he was surprised by the depth of the damage it did to her.
    Adrian used his walking stick to bang on the roof of the coach. They were off a moment later, first to the village and then to London. The attack that struck him as he’d left the drawing room had been the worst in months. He’d spent the rest of the day and night in his room, trying all the various remedies that his physicians had prescribed—the medicaments, the inhalants, the syrups and concoctions.
    Now, worn out from it all, he wanted to settle back in the cushions and sleep. First, though, he needed to stop to see the woman in the village who had a reputation as a healer of sorts. He’d long ignored the stories of her success, relying on the more professional advice of physicians. However, a death sentence opened him to other options he would not have considered in the past. He would have summoned her to the estate, but this would keep the gossip to a minimum.
    “So what did you do that made her retreat to her rooms? If you were angry over the game, you should have told me so.”
    “I was not angry over the billiards. If anyone should be angry, it should be you. She beat you by letting you win.”
    “I won that game.”
    “Keep telling yourself that. I think if you will examine how it went, you will understand how she drew you in, waited to pounce and then let you win.”
    Adrian leaned his head back against the bolster and closed his eyes. This trip was going to be a long and tiring one if Parker continued harassing him each mile of the way.
    “Perhaps you are correct, Windmere.”
    Adrian opened his eyes and gazed at his friend. “Why the sudden change?”
    “Other fish to fry.” Parker met his gaze with a level one of his own, but Adrian sensed more in those words than a simple reply. Fish to fry? Fish? Fishing? Bloody hell!
    They’d been seen. Parker’s satisfied expression confirmed it.
    Before he could question him, the carriage rolled into the village and stopped in front of the building that served as public rooms