Wakeup, andmy man will get you cleaned and shaved.” Jonathan opened his eyes at the command that intruded on a very restless sleep. Castleford loomed above him. The duke was dressed for the day and appeared far different from how he had looked the last time Jonathan had seen him. Clearing his head a bit, Jonathan noticed that he was sprawled on a sofa in the duke’s dressing room. Memories of the previous night rushed into his head. After leaving Celia, he had retraced his steps to this house, and been brought back to these chambers by the servant. Castleford had taken one look at him and guessed that he had not returned to join the debauch still under way. To Jonathan’s surprise, Castleford had summarily ordered the woman in his bed to depart, had thrown on a robe, and had brought his new guest to this dressing room for a long conversation punctuated by too many silences and many glasses of spirits. He ran his fingers through his hair. And froze. “What the hell—” He groped around his head, trying to make sense of what he did and did not feel.
