Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) by Lorraine Heath Page B

the years given to him.
    “Adventure,” Edward stated succinctly.
    “I seem to recall one of your letters filled with grumblings about the heat and insects and lack of good scotch.”
    “I believe I was fevered at the time.” He remembered the chills, the sweltering heat, his aching body.
    “While I was enjoying good scotch, modern conveniences, and an evening in the company of my wife.”
    Edward refrained from rolling his eyes in disgust at the absolute boredom of it all. “Don’t you want to live life robustly? You once did.”
    “I assume you’re implying until Julia. Love changes a man.”
    Edward growled low. “It’s made you a milksop.”
    “But a happy one. She’s with child again. I pray she doesn’t lose this one. I thought I would lose her as well the last time.”
    So maybe that was what had made him cautious. He feared upsetting the gods. In the span of two years, his wife had lost three babes. “I would simply like us to go somewhere, do something adventuresome together. Like old times.”
    “We’re not children any longer, Edward. We have to grow up.”
    “Speak for yourself.”
    “I believe I’m doing exactly that.”
    “I’ve half a mind to punch you.”
    Grey grinned. “You have the oddest way of showing that you love me.”
    Edward scowled, but he didn’t argue the point. He did love his brother more than he had ever loved anyone. At seven, he might have ceased to exist without Albert to hold him when word came that their parents were dead, if he’d been left completely alone. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Ashe to have no siblings with whom he could have shared his sorrow and grief.
    “By the by,” Grey said, “I’ve not seen Locksley since you returned. Is he still in London?”
    Edward shook his head slightly. “Off to visit his father.”
    “Bad business there. Do you recall when he rode a horse through the manor?”
    Edward chuckled at the memory. “Up the bloody stairs in the middle of the night, chasing his wife’s ghost. Total madness. When we left Havisham, it took me forever to get used to the ticking of clocks.” The mad Marquess of Marsden had stopped every clock in the residence so it reflected the time of his wife’s passing, as though all else had ceased to move forward as well.
    “I didn’t at the time, but now I understand the depth of his grief. I believe I would go mad as well if I lost Julia. I know the two of you don’t get along, but she is a remarkable woman.”
    Remarkable at stifling fun. “I’ll take your word for it.”
    “You should get to know her better.”
    “Bit hard to do when she cast me out.”
    “She had my blessings. You are an obnoxious drunkard.”
    “You wouldn’t notice if you were into your cups as well. It’s rather bad form not to join me in a glass or two.”
    “It’s more than two, and you damned well know it. Besides, I have the estates to look after. I can’t indulge to the extent that you can.” He rubbed his right ear. “She wants me to reduce your allowance.”
    “Do it, if it will keep harmony in your marriage. Stop it completely.”
    “Don’t be absurd. I’m not going to do that. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
    Edward disliked when they were at odds. Perhaps he should drink less, but there was a dark hole in him that needed filling and he didn’t know what to fill it with. Still, he conceded, “I’m glad you have her, that you love her.”
    “I do. Very much. She’s good for me.”
    But bad for Edward. Perhaps he never should have stolen a kiss from her while pretending to be Albert. It was only a harmless prank, but she’d taken such offense, one would have thought he’d lifted her skirts and caught sight of her ankles. Her only saving grace, as far as Edward was concerned, was that—as far as he could tell—she’d never told Albert about the incident.
    “Gents,” Ashe said as he joined them. “Lady Greyling is