He'd been distracted and feeling off all day, thanks to his encounter with Jenny. He had to keep pushing her from his mind and reminding himself that she did not want to see him and that she wanted him out of her life. That was the least he could do for her.
Phin waved a hand. “I was born privileged. That’s true. But even the lowliest night soil collector has a pint with friends once in a while.” Night soil collectors had the unenviable job of emptying the cesspools and privies of the upper classes and carting the excrement away.
“You and I are having a drink,” Aidan argued as a footman delivered Phin’s soup, supervised by the watchful eye of Porter. Aidan raised his glass to Draven and Wraxall. “A toast, gentlemen,” he said.
“Did you buy another factory?” the colonel asked as he raised his glass.
Aidan scowled. “No.” He turned back to Phin who had his napkin to his lips and appeared to be clearing his throat. It was a poor disguise for the laughter shaking his shoulders.
Aidan sipped his port, a drink which he hated but ordered because it was expensive. “You’ve made your point,” he said.
“Actually,” the duke said, “my point was that you need a life outside of making investments and counting profits. You only go to a ball if there’s someone you want to speak to about business. You only dance with a woman if her father is a man with whom you want to partner. You only come to your club”—he gestured to the room—“when you want news about a bill on tariffs.”
“Now that Rowden is leg-shackled, I hardly have reason to come,” Aidan said. “I’m the only bachelor of the lot, save Nicholas, and he’s hiding in the country. I hardly want to sit here for hours and listen to all of you wax poetic about your wedded bliss. And if all the weddings weren’t bad enough, now there are the babies. I saw Lady Lorraine the other day, and she’s as big as a house. Ewan had to pull her out of her chair.”
“Then I suppose you won’t enjoy hearing the news that Jasper will be a father before the end of the year.”
Aidan put his head in his hands. “First the weddings, now the christenings.”
Phin ate more soup. “Have you ever considered marrying?”
“Gad, no. I don’t have time for a wife.”
“You would if you allowed the army of clerks and assistants you employ to do their jobs instead of checking every notation they make for accuracy.”
Aidan scowled. Even if he’d wanted to do such a thing, it would have been impossible. He had far too many employees to go over everything they did.
“Aidan, I didn’t marry because I had time to fill. I married because—well, I fell in love—”
“No.” Aidan held up a hand. “No love stories.”
Phineas grinned, and Aidan could have sworn he was enjoying himself at Aidan’s expense. “Companionship is part of what makes life worth living. It’s human nature to want to share our experiences and hopes and dreams with another person. Not to mention, Annabel makes me laugh. She adds to my experiences of life. Her way of viewing the world is interesting and novel—”
“Duke, if I want a woman in my bed, I can have a woman.”
Phineas rolled his eyes. “You aren’t even listening. I am speaking of more than mere carnal relations. Marriage is more than having a woman in your bed every night, and even that act is different when the woman is your wife.”
“I don’t need a wife. I don’t want a wife.” He wanted lower tariffs and it didn’t appear as though that could be accomplished tonight. He rose. “I need to go back to my office and look in.”
“It’s past ten o’clock,” Phin pointed out.
“Still early. Give my best to Her Grace and to Lord Jasper, if you see him.” He stopped by Draven’s table and asked after Mrs. Draven and her sister, who had recently married, and he sent his greetings to Lady Juliana, Neil’s wife, but made sure to leave before Neil could regale him with any anecdotes about the orphanage he ran. An orphanage—the idea was appalling. Where was the profit in that?
Somehow Porter, who had been in the dining room but a moment before, was in the vestibule with Aidan’s coat and hat at the ready. He allowed Porter to help him don his greatcoat as his gaze paused on the large shield opposite the door. A medieval sword bisected the shield that was embellished with eighteen fleur-de-lis. Those were for the eighteen men of the troop they had lost during the war. Aidan remembered each and every one of them—Guy, Bryce, Peter, George, Harold...
But he had come home. Against all the odds, Aidan had made it back to England, and he would not squander his second chance at life now. He stepped out of the club into the brisk April evening. It was cool and sometimes he found the night air cleared his thoughts. He told the footman waiting for him to send the coach home as he would walk to his offices and could take a hackney home if he did not wish to walk. The truth was, he often slept, when he slept, in his office. There was little to go home to. He had a large house in Grosvenor Square, but only the rooms he used for entertaining had been furnished or decorated. The rest of the house was quite empty, except for his bedchamber. And really that was cold and empty as well.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and started for the building he used for his offices on Piccadilly. It was a short walk, and he was far from the only man out in St. James’s this evening. He stayed well clear of the drunk young lords stumbling about or tossing up their accounts. He wondered how many of them would go home to a pretty young wife this evening. Was he the only man in London sleeping alone?
He didn’t have to sleep alone. There were plenty of widows and even married women who had made their interest plain. But he’d been so focused on building his empire for so long that he had begun to think he didn’t have the same physical needs other men had. Aidan counted himself lucky in that regard because he remembered all too well the way he had burned for Jenny Tate when he’d been younger. Back then a touch of her hand or a glimpse of her ankle could arouse him for hours. And when she wore trousers—well, he’d needed a plunge in the cold Thames to cool off then.
But he’d been a youth, undisciplined and unruly. Now he was a man, ordered and efficient, and even seeing Jenny the other night had not brought back those lustful urges—well, not many of them. Seeing her had reminded him of the time they’d spent together, some of it nearly naked. But she was engaged to marry Viscount Chamberlayne, and Aidan didn’t feel quite right about lying in bed imagining her on her knees with his cock in her mouth when she was soon to be another man’s wife.
Of course, now that he did have that memory in his mind, it was hard to dislodge it. She hadn’t known what to do, and he hadn’t any experience either, but they’d made it up as they went along, and he thought they’d done a fair job of it.
He’d just turned onto Piccadilly when a coach slowed, and a man leaned out of the window and called to him. Aidan, mind still on fellatio, turned distractedly then started as he realized the man calling to him was Viscount Chamberlayne himself. Aidan felt the color rise to his cheeks. But the viscount was saying something—repeating it now—and Aidan made himself focus. He tried not to look into the coach windows, tried not to squint to see if Jenny was inside, but he couldn’t quite help himself.