The statement had been followed by a sly smile, one Sebastian had wanted to knock off Hazelton’s face with his fist. That was the reason Sebastian had lost his damn mind and instead of making some excuse, had said, “We’ll be there,” before stalking past Hazelton, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

The entire ride home, Sebastian had slapped his leather gloves against his thigh, damning himself for a fool for allowing Hazelton to get to him. Of course they wouldn’t be there. His duchess wouldn’t even speak to him, let alone attend a ball with him and pretend to be happy. Damn. Damn. Damn. He’d eventually have to make his excuses to Hazelton. He couldn’t say she was ill again, could he? No. He’d need to invent a new excuse this time.

He ground his teeth as he lowered himself into the bath. Two years was a long time for a wife to hide in the countryside. Perhaps he’d finally be forced to write to that shrew he’d married and tell her he’d be coming for a visit. That would prompt her to vacate the countryside. She had to be getting bored out there all alone in that giant house. Still, it didn’t guarantee she’d come to London, and it certainly didn’t mean she’d attend any events with him.

Hazelton wasn’t the only one talking, however. That fool was simply the only one who had the impudence to confront Sebastian. He’d heard the rumors. London was abuzz, wondering at the long absence of the Duchess of Edgefield. The unlovable duke. That’s what they were calling him. Would he eventually be forced to admit his wife had left him? That perhaps she’d never even loved him. Just like his mother.

These were the thoughts that rambled through Sebastian’s mind as he began soaping himself up. He nearly growled as he dunked the soap into the hot water and lathered himself thoroughly.

Christmas Day was next week. Once again, he’d be alone for the blasted holiday. Well, not alone precisely, but not with any semblance of a proper family either. He couldn’t even spend Christmastide at his closest friend’s house in the country because that family included her. That irked him even more. Before he’d married Veronica, his family had been…Veronica’s family. Or Justin’s at least, which, of course, was the same family. Sebastian had thought he’d married the girl next door, instead he’d married a woman who believed the worst of him. Just like his mother. Damn it. He’d never been so wrong about something in his life.

He’d spent Christmastide with Justin’s family for years after his own father had died. The viper who’d given birth to him had long ago stopped even pretending to want to spend the holiday with him. She spent the Season in Bath with friends. But for the last two years, unable to spend the holiday with the Whitmorelands, Sebastian had been forced to call upon his next closest friend, Selby. And while Selby was a loyal friend and a fine chap, his family just wasn’t the same as the Whitmorelands. They didn’t joke with each other, or play games competitively, or open their gifts the morning of Christmas Eve for no other reason besides blatant impatience. No. The Selbys weren’t the Whitmorelands, and they never would be.