The Duchess's Next Husband. Terri Brisbin

agreed readily and gathered his papers into neat little piles before standing and bowing to him. Adrian waited for him to leave his study before opening the door that led out to the gardens. Striding quickly, he approached the gazebo and listened to the conversation.

      “Rubbish!”

      “I assure you, Parker, though it may sound as though I boast, I could do it.”

      “An affront! That’s what it is. An affront to my honor,” Parker replied with the theatrics of a man intensely insulted.

      Adrian’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked the obvious, drawing their attention at once as he approached. “What could you do, madam?”

      He stared at her and she placed her bonnet back on her head and then stood to greet him. He had enjoyed the sight of the wind catching little tendrils of her hair and pulling them free of the arrangement that her maid had done up. Part of him wanted to tear the hat off and run his hands through her hair, loosening it until it fell below her waist. His body took no more than a moment to respond to the feelings engendered, with a clear message of intent. Blinking, he shook off the odd thoughts and turned his attention back to his wife’s boast.

      “Your duchess claims that she could best me in a game of billiards. Is that not audacious?” Parker said, offering a bow to Miranda. “Couldn’t be true, could it, Windmere?” His friend looked horrified as he contemplated the very thought of it.

      “Is it true, Miranda? I have not seen you play in many a year.” Adrian realized it was before their marriage and before his mother began her campaign to make Miranda a suitable wife for a man bearing the Warfield name.

      “I did not mean it as a challenge, sir,” she began. He watched her eyes light with a mischief he had not seen recently, and she nodded to Parker. “But it is a fair statement of my abilities.”

      Adrian walked to where she sat. “It would seem the only fair thing to do is to offer Parker the chance to defend his honor. Rather than an appointment at dawn, would you be willing to settle for billiards after dinner?”

      “Actually, I have an engagement for dinner this evening. Could we play later?” Miranda looked at Parker for an answer.

      “Are you having guests or going somewhere?” So used to having separate schedules and social engagements, Adrian had no idea of hers.

      “The rector and his wife are coming here, Windmere. You are welcome, of course.” She had not hesitated, so he felt the invitation was genuine. He also had not known that she was on social terms with Reverend Grayson and his wife. “I did not ask because I did not want to interfere any more than I have with your business here.”

      He almost answered with a quick excuse, but she turned her gaze on Parker then and he was not certain he wanted his friend there without him being present, too.

      “And you, as well, Parker. You might enjoy meeting the Graysons.”

      Parker turned a bit pale and shook his head. “I appreciate the invitation, of course, but meeting with a parson is not my idea of entertainment.” He shot Adrian a look that implored Help me out of this situation, and Adrian laughed.

      “I would enjoy that. Shall we plan on holding the challenge at, say, nine this evening?”

      Miranda smiled and looked from him to Parker and back. “Nine it is, then.” She stood and so did Parker. “I will not keep you any longer, Windmere.” With a nod, she picked up the book on the table and walked back to the house.

      She had just closed the door when the coughing erupted. Deep spasms racked Adrian’s chest and, as he turned away from the gazebo, he groped in his jacket and waistcoat to find the small bottle of syrup that usually quieted them. Tugging off the small cap, he leaned his head back and poured some of the thick, brown concoction into his mouth, then swallowed. Lowering his head, he looked into the face of his friend. In his haste, Adrian had forgotten all about Parker.

      A few more coughs escaped before he felt his chest loosen and calm. Searching for words to make light of his symptoms, Adrian opened and closed his mouth. To his surprise, it was Parker who spoke first—in a tone much too serious for a lighthearted rogue of his nature.

      “Your cough has worsened?”

      “It is just the flowers. Hay fever, the physicians are calling it,” Adrian said, trying to brush aside any concerns.

      “No, Adrian. It has worsened. I have noticed it lately. You have more of these spells and I have witnessed you drink from that bottle more times now than even a few months ago.”

      Startled at the familiarity, Adrian shook his head and tried to deny the assertion. “It is just this time of year.”

      Parker walked closer and spoke in a quiet voice. “I know there is more to this than you willingly will admit. Just know that I am here for you if you need anything.”

      His gut tightened as he realized the importance of this. Parker had noticed the changes. Who else had?

      “Do not add disclosure to your list of concerns. We are in each other’s pockets. I could not help but notice. Others who see you occasionally have not.”

      Adrian turned back and looked at the path that Miranda had taken.

      “The duchess is another matter altogether,” Parker added.

      “What do you mean?” Had he given himself away that night when he’d been drunk and rambling? Although Thompson assured him nothing had been heard by the servants or the duchess, he was not so certain.

      “I had an opportunity to get to know her more during our travels here. I think she senses something is wrong and does not know what to do about it.” Parker stepped away. “Is something wrong?”

      Not ready or willing to part with the secret yet, he simply changed the subject. “Anderson is waiting inside for me. Will I see you at dinner?”

      The dismissal was effective. They both took a polite step back and nodded. Turning away, Adrian felt some measure of guilt clawing at him. After too many years spent distancing himself from friends and family, as was befitting someone in his station of life, his mother would say, he now did not know how to bridge those distances.

      He returned to his study and remained there, closed up with Anderson, reviewing the remaining papers and documents so important to his demise and what would follow. When his solicitor excused himself with plans for a walk and then a dinner tray in his room, Adrian went and prepared for dinner. Anticipation within him grew as he thought about the evening that lay ahead.