One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“Jack.” She threw her arms around him, hugging him close. What’s happened to you? she wanted to ask. How had he sunk to this low? She was failing him, so miserably. Failing her mother’s memory. Failing Hugh’s. “It’s good to see you.” She clutched him tighter still. No matter what Spencer did or said, this time she would not let Jack go. Not until he told her everything, and together they made some plan to get his life put to rights. She’d lost one brother already, and she couldn’t bear the pain of losing another.

“We’ve a full house,” she said, wiping her tears and striving for a cheery tone. “Can you make do with the attic while you’re here?”

“Of course. Assuming Morland doesn’t—”

A deep voice interrupted. “Assuming Morland doesn’t what?”

Spencer tromped into the kitchen, holding a set of sleek fish. “Three salmon, as ordered.” He flung the fish on the table and turned to Jack.

Amelia’s stomach knotted. She didn’t know how Spencer would react to Jack showing up again uninvited. Even though he shouldn’t need an invitation—not to his own family’s house.

Lord Ashworth followed Spencer into the room. At the sight of the giant, Jack held up his hands in a gesture of truce. “I’m not here to make trouble. I’ve brought the papers from Laurent.”

“Papers?” Amelia asked. “What papers?”

No one heeded her question. Amelia held her breath as Spencer dragged a wary gaze over her brother’s disheveled clothes and sharply angled form. Would he curse Jack? Dismiss him? Welcome him? It seemed too much to hope for the last, but she couldn’t help but dream.

In the end, he didn’t speak a word to Jack. “Ashworth, this is Amelia’s brother. Jack d’Orsay.” He caught Amelia’s gaze. “He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Tears of relief pricked at the corners of her eyes. Oh, how she loved him. She loved both these men, more than she loved her own life. And she adored Spencer for not forcing her to choose between them. Thank you, she mouthed to her husband.

“Jack, Lord Ashworth is Lieutenant Colonel St. Maur,” she said, clearing the emotion from her throat. “He served with Hugh in the army.”

“Then I’m doubly glad to make your acquaintance, my lord. Your courage was legend, from my brother’s letters.” Jack bowed, then drew a sheaf of papers from the bag slung over his arm. “Your Grace, shall we discuss these in the library?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Amelia said, inwardly pleased with her brother’s sudden formality. She gave Spencer a merry look, as if to say, See? He’s already reforming. “Dinner will be ready soon. Whatever you need to discuss, it can wait until after we’ve eaten.”

And by then, she would have pulled Spencer aside to learn just what these papers were all about.

“Besides,” she continued, “you’re all of you men in desperate need of a bath. Go on, get out of my kitchen. Go bathe and dress for dinner, and let me finish here.” She briskly shooed them through the door.

Lily rose, too. “If you don’t mind, I’ll rest for a bit. I’m fatigued from traveling.”

“But of course you are. Shall I show you upstairs?”

“No, thank you. I know the way.”

Once she was left alone, Amelia braced her hands on the tabletop. She drew a deep, slow breath. And then she began to weep uncontrollably. Great, racking sobs left her cheeks wet and her throat aching. What was wrong with her? She just couldn’t stop crying, and she had no idea why. Jack was here, Spencer hadn’t thrown him out, and this was her chance to set everything right between them. She ought to be rejoicing, not crying.

From the basin, a salmon accused her with one round, glassy eye. Actually, what she ought to be doing was preparing fillets for dinner. But as she reached for the fish, her stomach gave a wild lurch. Tears forgotten, she grabbed the nearest empty bowl and retched into it.

Oh, dear. Though her head spun, she performed a hasty calculation on her fingertips. Suddenly it all made sense. Her helpless tears, her sudden nausea, her cravings over the past few days—for baked goods and Spencer. All thoughts of her house guests, her husband, even bedraggled Jack and his mysterious papers fled her mind.

She was with child.

When dinner came, Spencer found himself seated across the table from Claudia. He didn’t appreciate the childish manner in which she picked at her food. But he truly hated the way in which she shifted her fascinated gaze from one egregiously inappropriate man to the next: Ashworth, Bellamy, Jack d’Orsay. The last passed Claudia a debonair grin along with the bowl of parsnips, and Spencer began to question the wisdom of placing his ward in close society with three men who could be called his enemies.

He tried to catch Amelia’s eye, but she’d taken quite an interest in her water goblet. It wasn’t like her to be so distracted.

“God’s truth, this room is quiet,” Jack said. “Tell us a joke, Bellamy. Or one of those amusing stories. You’re always the life of the party in Town.”

“We’re not in Town,” Bellamy said. “And I don’t feel so amusing, of late.”

That was an understatement. From the looks of them, Jack and Bellamy were having a competition to see who could closest resemble a wraith. First man to waste to vapor wins.