Compromised for Christmas (The Jennings Family #1)

41. Fitz

41

Fitz

F itz had mucked up his marriage No—he had fucked up his marriage.

The only problem was, he wasn’t sure what had upset his wife. But he knew he had messed up. One moment they were tangled together in the snow, Fitz feeling as light as the fluffy powder, and the next she was in his study, cold as ice, nothing but a beautiful, frigid exterior. His wife had quite literally disappeared inside herself. And it wasn’t the first time since they’d arrived in London that she had appeared downcast.

Georgiana had given him one-word—and more often no-word—responses all night. She had complained of a megrim at the Rutledge’s supper party, so they had left early, and as soon as they arrived home, she’d fled straight to her room. He had chased after her—damn, the woman was fast for being so small—and had been greeted by a door shutting in his face.

Which had given him pause, because he had done something similar to her the other night. Perhaps that was it? She clearly hadn’t liked seeing his ex-mistress visit their home, but he had explained that to her. Perhaps he hadn’t explained well.

Fitz burst past the Jennings’s family’s butler without a word and went straight for the stairs of his old home, taking them two at a time. He had made sure his housekeeper, Mrs. Hutchinson, was informed of Georgiana’s illness, ordered her to whip up a tonic for his wife, and to be at the ready for anything Georgiana needed. Once he had been assured his wife was settled and sleeping, he’d ordered his carriage and made for his family’s townhome. He needed his brother. Felix would know what to do. He always knew what to do. He’d been heading the Jennings family since he was only four-and-twenty.

Lord, and at the Rutledge supper party? His hand shot to his chest, digging into the thick fabric of his wool coat. The Duke and Dunmore had closed in on her, and she’d smiled— smiled —at them. He let out a growl. Her smiles weren’t for them, damn it. She belonged to him. She was his . He had been moments from throwing her over his shoulder and storming out of there, scandal be damned. He paused at the top of the stairwell and blinked. What was happening to him? Clearly, love made him bloody loopy.

Fitz shook his head and strode down the family wing of bedrooms in the home he had grown up in and stopped before his father’s old chambers. Now his brother’s. He sucked in a breath. And pounded on the door.

“Felix! Wake up. I need to speak with you. Now!”

Thumps and muffled sounds came from behind the thick oak door. Fitz bounced back and forth on his feet, fingers tapping rapidly over his thigh. Then, blessedly, the door cracked open.

A flushed, disordered Felix popped his head through the small opening. “This had better be important, Fitz,” he gritted out.

Fitz’s eyes welled, burning like the devil. Shite. Shite, shite, shite. Not tears. Hold yourself together, mate. “I think I have r-ruined my marriage.” His stupid, cracking voice betrayed him.

Felix’s demeanor changed instantly, his brow furrowing, eyes sharpening. The head of the household was ready to fix things for his family. “What has happened? What have you done?”

“I-I don’t know. But I know I did something.”

“Who’s out there?” a deep voice called from inside Felix’s chamber. “Did you invite a friend, handsome?”

Fuck. It would appear Fitz had interrupted his brother during something…important.

“I’m sorry, Felix. I-I will come back later. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” Fitz turned on his heel, but Felix’s fist latched onto his coat. Fitz’s body jerked backward, and he stumbled to a halt in front of his brother again.

“Just let me grab my banyan, and we’ll go down to my study. Don’t worry, Fitzy. We’ll sort this out.”

Fitz turned and nodded at his brother’s back disappearing into the bedchamber.

Felix’s muffled voice rumbled through the small opening of the door, “I’m sorry, Benedict. My brother has called, and I need to address this. We’ll have to pick this back up another time. Please see yourself out.”

A clearly upset whine echoed into the hallway, and Fitz winced. But then Felix was popping back through, covered in a silk onyx banyan lined with thick, black velvet, and wasted no time leading them to his study.

Felix pushed Fitz into one of the two leather armchairs and made his way to his sideboard. “All right, Fitz. Start from the beginning. When did you first notice she was upset with you?”

Fitz pressed his fingertips to his temple, squeezing, and frowned. “Urm. I’m not sure exactly. There were possibly earlier signs, but one night she visited my rooms, and I shut the door in her face.” He winced. He chewed his lip, wracking his brain. His eyebrows lifted, and he met his brother’s gaze. “Or… I did abandon her…urm…left her bent over my desk.”

All expression melted off Felix’s face from where he leaned against the sideboard, and he blinked dumbly at Fitz. His mouth worked and eventually managed a disbelieving, “Bent over your desk? As in—”

“She asked me to spank her,” Fitz argued. “I panicked.” As any highly anxious chap would.

“Sodding hell, Fitz. Hand meets flesh. It’s not that difficult.”

Fitz glared daggers at his brother. “It is not simple for all of us. Regardless, I thought we had moved past that, but I know when she saw me today paying Adelaide in my study—”

“Adelaide?” Felix sputtered, nearly tossing his freshly poured whisky all over the floor. “Adelaide was in your home? Adelaide, your ex-mistress? Was in the home you share with your wife?”

“Yes… Earlier this evening before the supper party. I realize now I probably shouldn’t have had her come to the house.”

Felix shot him a yes, you have that fucking right look.

“I told Georgiana that!” Fitz said defensively. “I told her I wouldn’t have Adelaide come to the house anymore.”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and he inclined his head in disbelief at Fitz. He threw back his whisky and closed his eyes. “Let me see if I have this straight. You want a happy marriage with your wife?”

Fitz nodded.

“So, you invited your mistress over to the home you share with said wife to have sex with her? And then told said wife, you would only tup your mistress outside the home from now on. Am I following?”

“No,” Fitz said, shaking his head and scowling at his brother. “Adelaide is my ex -mistress. I didn’t tup her and don’t intend to. In my townhome or out of it. The only woman I want is my wife.”

“Then what the bloody hell were you paying her for? What did you two do in your study?”

“She was dropping off some…items I requested. You see, I reached out to her for help.” He lifted his hands beseechingly. “I needed some help in the bedroom because of some proclivities Georgiana has that I know nothing about. So, I went to Adelaide for tutelage.”

Felix’s eyes bugged.

Fitz shifted in his seat and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I…went to Adelaide. And she’s been helpful,” he rushed on.

His brother couldn’t stop shaking his head. “Adelaide.”

“Yes…” Fitz thought, perhaps—based on his brother’s reaction—this might be where he had erred, at least the most damning err. He was sure he had erred quite a bit.

“Why? Why would you go to your mistress for help with bedding your wife?” He closed his eyes and pinched his nose. Realization dawned on Felix’s face. “No. She is not the reason you left on Christmas, is she?”

Fitz nodded, shrinking into his shoulders, and Felix groaned.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually practice with her.”

“No! Of course not,” Fitz growled. Why did no one understand what he was saying? “I went to her for information . I only want Georgiana. I don’t want Adelaide. I couldn’t even touch her when I was there. When I tried to choke her—”

“You what? ”

Fitz hadn’t thought his brother’s voice could go that high. He blew out a breath. “She was teaching me hand placement,” he said patiently. “Not literal harm. And not-sexual, purely instructional. And the feel of her skin?” He shuddered. “It was all wrong.”

“I need more bloody whisky.” Felix turned, slamming bottles and glasses around. “Want one?”

Before Fitz could even answer in the affirmative, a whisky was in his hand.

“So, do you think that is where I went wrong? I shouldn’t have gone to Adelaide for help?”

His brother flopped down in the chair opposite him and deflated on a breath in the seat. “Partly. No wife, especially one who looks at her husband with hearts in her eyes like Georgiana does with you, wants their husband having contact with a mistress, with an ex-lover.”

Fitz preened. She looked at him with hearts in her eyes? His elation immediately crumbled. He was sure after this muddle, there would be no hearts. Just daggers. And his brother’s next words were daggers as well.

“And by God, Fitzy. You left her on Christmas for your mistress. Sex or not. That’s a hard blow to swallow.”

Fuck. How had he bungled this so badly? It had seemed like such a logical idea at the time. Who better to teach one about sex than someone who practices it all the time?

Felix threw back a large swallow of amber liquid and studied Fitz. “But it’s more than that. I think I might be starting to make sense of your fucked up logic. Let me see if this time I have it correct. Your wife wants to do”—he waved a hand—“ something in the bedroom that you have no experience with. So, you went to your mistress for help—on Christmas. She then showed up at your house with…items—whatever those may be—and your wife stumbled upon you paying her for said paraphernalia.”

Fitz thought it over. That sounded about right. He nodded. “But I explained everything to Georgiana, and it seemed to only make things worse.”

Felix winced. “Do you remember what you said? If not exact, very close wording? Because based on what you’ve told me so far, I have a feeling what you said isn’t what you thought you said.”

“Mmm, perhaps.” He screwed up his face. “I said I didn’t hire Adelaide for what she assumed. That it was for tutelage. That Adelaide had been teaching me certain things in the bedroom that I knew Georgiana was interested in. That I was doing it for Georgiana.”

Felix’s jaw dropped open. Wide open. Hit-the-floor open. “You-you-you-youuuu.”

Fitz had broken his brother.

Felix cursed. “Heaven, help you, brother. You’re lucky she didn’t murder you on the spot. Do you not hear how that sounds? First”—he held up a finger—“you told her you would only visit your mistress elsewhere, implying you’re obviously shagging her. And second”—he threw up another finger—“it sounds like you proceeded to tell your wife you’ve been fucking your mistress as practice. To then go home and fuck Georgiana with your new techniques .” His shoulders sagged.

So did Fitz’s. Fuck. Hearing it back. It did sound damning. That is not what he had meant at all. Why did the words never word properly for Fitz?

“Why didn’t you just come to me if you had questions, Fitzy?”

Fitz’s brows pinched. He had thought that was obvious. “Well, because you don’t tup women.”

His brother let out a strangled sound. “But I am well-versed in sex . It is not as though proclivities are reserved for tuppings between men and women. Honestly, there’s quite a bit of overlap, two cocks instead of one, though some women are looking for that”—he eyed Fitz questioningly, and Fitz shook his head quickly—“different hole and more preparation—or same hole if that’s what she’s going for?”

Fitz’s eyebrows shot up.

“Clearly not,” Felix said with an exasperated laugh. “Now, if you asked me to help you locate the clitoris, I wouldn’t be your chap, granted from what I’ve heard, most men can’t seem to find it, regardless.” He batted that away with a flick of his hand. “Anyhow, if there was something that pertained specifically to women, I could have pointed you in the right direction. Which would have been far, far away from your ex-mistress, I might add.”

Fitz groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Only for his forehead to smack into his whisky glass. Fuck . He didn’t even care. He just accepted the pain. “You know of the Duke of Ironcrest’s proclivities?”

“Yes…”

“That is what she wants.”

Silence greeted him.

He glanced up to meet a thoroughly surprised Felix, eyebrows having disappeared beneath the amber wave of hair falling over his brow.

“Sweet, Georgiana? The one who pretended to gallop around our entry after winning the tree competition?”

Fitz dipped his chin.

“Well, I’d never,” Felix said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Some spanking is one thing, but that… Well, regardless, I wish you had come to me, Fitzy. That is definitely an area I could have helped you with. And I still can if you have any questions. I’m your big brother. You can always come to me.”

Fitz nodded again, his throat suddenly suspiciously thick.

“But first let us see if we can rectify this situation with your wife. Where is Georgiana now? Is she still at your townhouse?”

“In her chambers with a megrim. She has barely spoken to me all evening. And”—he sucked in a choked breath—“God, Felix. She was crying.”

“All right. Not great. But she hasn’t left, so that is a good sign.”

Fitz’s heart rate picked up, took flight, the entire organ completely abandoning him. Georgiana leaving him? Everything tightened, everything constricted. No. He couldn’t bear it. Why were the walls so much closer now? They were closing in on him.

“Fitzy,” Felix said gently. “Look at me.”

Fitz slowly met his brother’s comforting amber gaze.

“You can fix this. You have some serious explaining to do. And given your word choice thus far, perhaps we should go over what you are going to say together. But your heart is in the right place. This can be fixed .”

“I should probably write it down,” Fitz said, his tone defeated. “I should probably just hand her a letter and avoid talking altogether.”

Fitz paused. Perhaps that was the way to go. Perhaps he could start with a written explanation—one his brother read over and approved first—and then he could surprise his wife. Surprise her with exactly what he had intended all along. Show her this was all a misunderstanding.

“Where’d you disappear to, Fitz?”

He looked at his brother. “I just had an idea.”

Felix eyed him warily. “A good idea?”

“I believe so. I actually have two ideas, though one will take a bit more time.” He frowned down at his trousers. He wasn’t entirely sure where to even start with the second thing.

He glanced back at his brother to be met with a look that clearly said, come on now, while the tea is still hot .

Fitz drew in a breath. “So, this is what I had in mind…”