Randolph nodded. “I’d reached the end of my tether with you, but then you married your mistress and I wished to stick around to see how the story would end.” His grin was this side of cheeky. “I’m glad I did, for there is a change about you, a softness I guess one could say, that wasn’t there before.”
“Yes, well.” He didn’t know about that. “Every day is a new chance to prove a failure.” That he might disappoint Lavinia yet again sat heavy on his shoulders. “It’s a terrifying prospect without brandy.”
“Or rather each new day is a chance to do better, grasp at the ring of being a better person.” Randolph reached into an interior pocket of his jacket and withdrew an ivory envelope. “Which brings me to the reason I’m here today.” He flicked the envelope to Percival, who caught it on his lap. “I’m to invite you to a rout my parents are throwing. Father still thinks fondly of you. He wishes to put you and your new countess into society with his backing.”
“What?” Percival’s lower jaw fell open. His friend was currently the heir apparent to the Marquess of Eaton, a powerful man high on the instep, just a tad lower in rank than a duke. When such a man spoke, people in the ton listened, and if he wished to lend support to his cause, who was Percival to bid him nay? “That is quite generous of your father.”
“Oh, it is to be sure, but you and I have been friends since infancy. He knows what’s it’s like to feel trapped in grief and bedeviled by demons.” The other man paused while sadness collected in his eyes. He’d lost two brothers to the war and a sister to childbirth. His family was no stranger to death or mourning. “And, as he puts it, Lavinia is a ‘looker with enough curves to tempt both Peter and Paul.’” He snickered. “His words, not mine.”
“He’s rather got the right of it.” The fact that such a man would side with him humbled him beyond merit. Percival tapped the envelope with a forefinger. “Thank him for me. As much as I’m honored he would do this for me and Lavinia, do you think it’s wise?”
“What, thrusting you into society?” Randolph shrugged. “As of yet, I haven’t seen evidence the Duke of Bradford has put any sort of retribution into place.” He eyed Percival with speculation. “And seeing the two of you circulate couldn’t hurt. How goes your union outside of the marriage bed?”
“Slowly. Carefully.” He fingered the edge of the envelope. “We’ve made strides in coming to know each other in this new life. She’s shared a few surprising things about herself with me, which give me a better insight into the woman she is.” For a few seconds, he pondered over his next words. “Though she gets on well with Deborah, I still wonder if that’s a good thing.”
“Come off it, man.” Randolph laughed. “Do you truly think she’ll teach your daughter how to be a whore?”
“No.” The heat on the back of his neck renewed. “I do not, and that was a cause for contretemps between us a handful of days back, but I know now those fears were unfounded.”
“Then why bring it up at all?”
He heaved a sighed. “I worry about what will happen if Lavinia leaves due to my inability to be a proper husband. To say nothing of Deborah’s wellbeing if that comes to pass.” So much rested on his shoulders that the pressure of it would soon break him. “Everything is confusing just now.”
“And well it should be.” Lord Randolph leaned forward, planted his boots on the floor and then rested his forearms on his knees so that his hands dangled between them. “I assume you are making an effort at being proper for the sole reason that you don’t wish to lose her?”
“Yes.” The word was forced from his suddenly tight throat. “But if her departure is not by choice? What then, Randolph? I barely recovered from the last time.”
A slow grin curved his friend’s mouth. “Does that mean you hope to fall in love with your wife?”
In some annoyance, Percival chopped at the air with his free hand. “What is the purpose of wedding a woman if I don’t?” If he were to make a go of his new circumstances, he wanted everything a marriage entailed, and if he were honest with himself, he’d missed that over the years since his first wife had died. “I pledged my fidelity to her.” And that promise had been consecrated when he’d bedded her the other night. He wanted no one else.
One of Lord Randolph’s golden eyebrows rose in question. “Then you don’t intend to stray?”
“Not with a woman.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “But it’s a struggle every damn day to not drink. If I cheat on her, it will be with a bottle of brandy.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand that craving.” Needing something to use up the restless feelings bouncing through his body, he launched from the chair and drifted once more to the windows that overlooked the garden area in the square behind the rows of townhouses. A flash of bright pink caught his eye, and his breath stalled. Lavinia strolled through the area alone. When had she returned? “But I have to be, for her sake.”
If he failed, would it break her enough to make her give up on him when he needed her the most?
“Then trust her. If she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t insist you cease drinking. Take comfort in knowing she married you despite the mess you currently represent. And for God’s sake, start thinking in the positive.” Lord Randolph had followed him to the window. He clasped a hand upon Percival’s shoulder. “Perhaps Lavinia is exactly what you need right now, and all to the better if the two of you should fall madly in love.”
“If only it’s as simple as that.”
“Damnation, you’re stubborn.” He turned Percival about until their gazes met. “Don’t borrow trouble, my friend. The future will take care of itself.”
After walking around the adorable duck pond contained within the square behind the row of townhouses where Laughton House rested, Lavinia sat upon one of the decorative stone benches and continued to watch the antics of a handful of ducks. They glided upon the water’s surface, and in the full sunlight that rendered the brackish water somewhat clear, the paddle of their orange feet was visible.
She’d retreated here once she’d returned home from her visits upon finding Percival in the drawing room with his friend. The conversation had edged into somber territory that she hadn’t wished to interrupt, especially when she’d heard her name mentioned. It didn’t bother her that he discussed her with Lord Randolph; she knew enough about him to have faith he wouldn’t slander her name. Besides, he needed to bond with male friends. She would never begrudge him that, and since Deborah was occupied in the schoolroom, she’d gratefully accepted the opportunity to spend time by herself.
“Do you mind if I intrude upon your privacy?”
The sound of Percival’s voice sent a bevy of butterflies into her lower belly. Though they’d come to an understanding, formed a new, stronger tie two nights prior when he’d come to her room, they hadn’t spent consequent nights together. Her mind still reeled with the fact he’d wished for more children and with her, but she didn’t dare hope any of it would be possible. After all, she’d turned nine and twenty a month prior. That was rather long in the tooth.
Realizing he waited for an answer, she finally nodded. “I would enjoy that above all things.” She scooted over on the bench, and when he sat beside her, his shoulder brushed hers. A host of tingles fell down her spine. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Oddly enough, this was a favorite place of my wife’s when her mind was troubled.” He shrugged, and his shoulder brushed hers once more. “She said that watching the ducks glide on the water brought her calm.”
“That’s exactly what I feel when I’m here.” Lavinia’s smile felt sad as she looked at the fowl on the water’s surface. One of them had hopped out and stood on the stone lip that rimmed the pond. “I adore the ducks. That one over there is courting, I think.”
“Oh? How can you tell?”