The Unclaimed Duchess Read Free

breath as he slowly returned to his own chair. “Of course it is exactly as I hoped. Anne is the perfect hostess, the perfect lady, the perfect—”
    â€œThat isn’t what I meant,” Simon said as he leaned forward to drape his elbows over his knees.
    Rhys pursed his lips in displeasure and discomfort. Neither he nor Simon had been raised as a libertine. They didn’t discuss conquests or crow about the women they bedded. And yet Rhys recognized Simon was asking him if he and Anne were compatible in ways beyond her infinite suitability as Duchess of Waverly.
    His body stirring unexpectedly, Rhys made an attempt to block out the images his friend’s question inspired. Ones of his wedding night when he had taken his wife’s innocence, when he had first heard her sighs of pleasure. Those things had driven him to the very outer reaches of his considerable control, but he had managed to rein himself in. Barely.
    That near lack of restraint actually alarmed him a little. He wasn’t a man prone to succumb to his animal instincts, he had been taught better than that. Those desires were meant to be purged with a mistress or a lightskirt, not a proper wife, a woman meant to be treated with reverence.
    Still, despite her propriety and innocence, Anne brought out powerful desires in him, and it was a constant struggle to remain as unruffled as a man of his station should be. He hoped that over time, his passion for her would wane and they would fall into a comfortable, distant union more like his parents had shared or that a thousand others in their socialsphere enjoyed. It was better that way.
    When he looked at Simon again, he found his friend was staring at him, head cocked, with a look of concern on his face. “Waverly?”
    Rhys shook away the memories of Anne in his bed and shrugged. “Of course I am perfectly content. But somehow I doubt you came here, the very day of my return to London, to discuss such a mundane topic. I can see you’re troubled. Tell me what is wrong.”
    Simon didn’t reply for a long moment, but merely stared at Rhys. He had an expression Rhys rarely saw from his friend, a mixture of sadness and regret, but also true affection.
    â€œYou have always been able to read me,” Simon finally said softly.
    Rhys shifted. Emotional exchanges were something he avoided at all costs. Normally his friends respected that, but today Simon was pushing for them both with his questions about Anne and his current comments. It was entirely uncomfortable, especially when coupled with the fact that Rhys had no idea why his friend had intruded upon his home.
    â€œWhat is going on?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as the one he generally used with those below him in rank.
    Simon smiled, but it was sad and distant. “Yes, I apologize. I have avoided this unpleasantness longenough. You will recall that before you married I uncovered some painful truths about my father. Despite his exalted reputation, he sired several bastard sons, as well as engaged in political intrigues and manipulations.”
    Rhys nodded as pity filled him. He couldn’t imagine his friend’s pain and didn’t want to. “Of course. Have you learned more about his unsavory past?”
    Simon swallowed hard before he answered. “I did. I have obtained more information about the identities of his other sons.”
    Rhys’s brow wrinkled. “Why?”
    Simon stared at him. “I want to meet them, Waverly.”
    â€œ Meet them?” Rhys drew back a fraction. “Why in the world would you wish to do that? They are certainly not of your quality, your rank. If you allow such people into your life, you are only opening yourself up to the potential for blackmail and pain. I would hate to see you suffer for your father’s sins.”
    Simon shut his eyes. “Well, you may be correct about that, my friend.”
    Rhys cocked his head. “What do you