Regarding the Duke

by Grace Callaway

  She’d responded like an uncomfortable virgin.

  Last week, she’d been pouring him tea, an everyday ritual she performed that never failed to get him into a lather. What aroused him was her attention to detail, the graceful precision with which she prepared his beverage: each cup she served him was the perfect balance of creamy, bitter, and sweet, just the way he liked it. When he expressed his approval of her efforts, she’d looked pleased.

  Then he’d taken it a step further, commenting on the pretty color of her eyes and said eyes had widened in obvious distress. An awkward silence had fallen as she dropped her gaze, fumbling with the tea service while he wondered what the hell he’d said wrong. Yesterday, he’d tried another compliment, telling her that her hair was brighter than roses, and her face had turned the same shade to match. To his terror, her bottom lip had wobbled as if she might burst into tears.

  If he told her what he thought of her breasts and arse, she’d probably expire on the spot.

  Not a man to give up, he’d tried other means of sparking their marital flame. Last evening, for instance, during a game of charades with the children, Adam had positioned himself next to his wife on a sofa. Less than two feet separated them yet that distance felt as vast as an ocean. As Fiona nearly tore her hair out pantomiming to Max (Adam couldn’t blame her: the poor lad had been utterly confused despite her excellent acting out of falling rain and tying a bow to represent the word “rainbow”), Adam decided to test the waters by sliding an arm casually around Gabriella’s waist.

  She’d jolted as if she’d touched an electrifying machine. Cheeks crimson, she’d jumped up, startling them both. She’d mumbled about having to attend to something and all but ran from the room.

  He didn’t know how to read her reactions. Had he offended her delicate sensibilities? Was she shy…or a cold-natured sort of female? Given her warm, generous spirit and sensual looks, he had a hard time believing the latter to be true. Perhaps she was worried, then, that he wasn’t ready to resume his husbandly duties? But he was communicating quite clearly that he was ready.

  Was her reticence related to their past? Not having any memory of their sexual history was the damnedest thing. What had their marital bed been like before? He couldn’t imagine that he could have been around his wife and not tupped her at every available opportunity. In every room, on every surface of this bleeding mansion, if he’d had his way.

  Yes, he was more than ready to get intimately reacquainted with his wife. The problem was getting Gabriella on the same page. He felt like a bridegroom fumbling about on his wedding night…Good God, he hoped he hadn’t been a fumbler. Could that be why his spouse was so shy about sexual matters? Had he not satisfied her in bed?

  “Is the shave satisfactory, sir?”

  With a shudder, Adam relinquished that unwelcome theory and opened his eyes. He saw no nicks or redness in the looking glass. When he touched his jaw, he found it as smooth as a well-made bed.

  “Very,” he said. “Don’t know how you manage such a close shave cutting with the grain, Quinn.”

  “Experience, I expect, sir. The shaving soap from Truefitt & Hill helps as well. You had them blend this custom formulation for you.”

  No wonder he found the spicy scent so pleasant.

  As the valet removed the towel from around Adam’s neck and began to pack up the assorted implements, Adam studied himself in the mirror. He was a decent-looking chap, had all his teeth. His form was fit and muscular. It wouldn’t be immodest to say that women would find him attractive. Moreover, he was sure he was a man of sexual experience. He knew what pleased him…and knew he enjoyed a woman’s pleasure as well.

  Stuck in bed, with Gabriella hovering so close, he’d entertained quite a few fantasies. The notion of burying his face between her thighs, for instance, gave him an instant cockstand. He had a loin-firing curiosity to know if the hair on her mound was as lovely and pure a shade as the fiery locks on her head. If she tasted as sweet as she looked. If she was as talkative during sex as she was in daily life, if she would beg him with hot, breathy words to make her come…

  He regained his focus. He was no namby-pamby idiot. What little he knew of his history painted him as a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. He’d built himself an empire and had his own personal blend of shaving soap, for Christ’s sake.

  By comparison, how difficult could it be to get Gabriella—his wife—to resume conjugal relations with him? In his gut, he knew that getting her in bed wasn’t just about slaking his lust. It was about establishing his claim, of making her his in the most primal way so that neither of them had any doubts about whom she belonged to.

  It was about making this marriage real because, Christ, he wanted it to be.

  The solution struck him: he would plan an intimate night for them. He’d set the scene for a romantic interlude. Supper, flowers, a musical serenade—and a gift. Everyone knew that trinkets were the way to a female’s heart, and he was as rich as Croesus, wasn’t he?

  “Is there anything else, Mr. Garrity?” Quinn inquired.

  “Yes, actually. Do you know where I purchased jewelry for my wife in the past?”

  “You have accounts at all the finest jewelers, sir. But for special occasions, you favored Rundell, Bridge, & Co. Shall I send for them?”

  Adam cocked his head. “The jeweler will come to me?”

  “Given your patronage over the years, I’d suspect Misters Rundell and Bridge would set up shop next door if you ask them to.”

  At least I did one thing right.

  “Have them come this afternoon, when Mrs. Garrity is out visiting her father,” Adam said. “The gift is to be a surprise. And send Burke up. I want to discuss tomorrow night’s supper with him.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  As Quinn departed, Adam continued to plot out his plan…to seduce his wife.

  17

  In the drawing room the following afternoon, Gabby poured tea for her three guests. To her right, Tessa Kent, a slight, raven-haired beauty shared a divan with Emma, the Duchess of Strathaven (and Tessa’s sister-in-law). Maggie Foley, a cinnamon-haired widow and the future bride of the Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville, occupied the curricle chair to Gabby’s left.

  “You’re always a wonderful hostess, Gabby, but you needn’t have gone to the trouble,” Emma said, waving at the cart and sideboard laden with cakes, sliced fruits, and a cold collation. “You already have your hands full looking after your husband.”

  “Swift Nick appreciates the feast,” Tessa said.

  Her poppy-colored carriage dress was cut to conceal the swell of the babe she was expecting next year, and curled up against the barely detectable bump was Swift Nick, her beloved pet ferret, whose dark mask of fur and searching gaze gave it the look of an inquisitive bandit. She broke off a piece of cheese for Swift Nick, who snatched and gobbled the morsel.

  Tessa’s choice of pet was as unique as she was. For despite her delicate exterior, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her grandfather was a powerful cutthroat who ruled the London underworld and, as the Duchess of Covent Garden, Tessa did her part to bring order and justice to the territory she oversaw. It spoke volumes that even a man as influential as Adam respected her authority.

  “It was no trouble. And Mr. Garrity’s ever so much improved,” Gabby said. “Indeed, he’s chafing at the doctor’s instructions to stay in the house, which is how I know he’s on the mend.”

  “When Strathaven’s injured foot kept him confined to the house, he was like a caged tiger.” Over the rim of her teacup, Emma’s brown eyes were knowing. “The staff went into hiding.”

  Since Adam had been prowling around the house, poking his nose in everyone’s business, Gabby had a feeling that her own servants would have liked to do the same. Poor Burke, in particular, had been mortally offended when Adam questioned his accounting of the household silver. She’d spent no little time smoothing the ancient butler’s ruffled feathers.

  Despite his
impatience with his own recovery, Adam was improving at lightning speed. Day by day, he was stronger, more commanding, more like his old self. Yet he was also…different.

  Thinking of the changes sent a wave of foreboding through Gabby. She didn’t know what to make of them. Of the fact that her husband was, in some ways, a stranger. The awareness reaffirmed that she might not know him at all, a notion that pained her heart.

  “I’m so very glad to hear that Mr. Garrity is feeling better.” Maggie’s hands curled in her olive satin skirts. “Ransom and I owe him more than we can ever repay.”

  In the other’s emerald eyes, Gabby saw sincerity and no little guilt. She knew it was because Adam had been hurt whilst helping to rescue Maggie and Ransom’s daughter, Glory. Although Maggie and her duke were newly engaged, Maggie had divulged that they’d had a brief affair some years earlier, Glory being the result of it. It was only recently that the lovers had reunited and His Grace had discovered that he had a daughter.

  While Gabby had known Emma forever and Tessa for a few months, she’d only recently become acquainted with Maggie. Normally, she’d be intimidated by a woman as beautiful as Maggie, but the other’s no-nonsense manner had put her at ease. Maggie’s late husband had apparently been an older, ailing gentleman, and she’d run his fossils shop for many years, even digging for bones herself along the Dorset coast where she’d lived. One had the sense that Maggie’s life hadn’t been easy, yet she’d persevered and now she was to marry the man of her dreams.

  Gabby didn’t want anything hanging over her new friend’s happiness.

  “There is to be no talk of debt,” she said firmly. “Mr. Garrity was happy to oblige.”

  “He’s a hero. And I know that you and your family have suffered on my daughter’s behalf. If there is any way for Ransom and me to return the favor,” Maggie said solemnly, “you must let us know.”

  Gabby nodded, taking wifely pride in hearing Adam called a hero. The nature of his business hadn’t always sat well with her friends, and more than once, he’d been cast in a villainous light. What they didn’t understand was that Adam wasn’t evil or cruel: he was a man of honor who simply believed in getting his just due.

  In the past, she hadn’t been able to persuade her friends of her husband’s generosity and goodness any more than she could convince him that they were worthy of his trust. For her sake, both parties had tolerated one another. Perhaps the silver lining to the recent crisis was the setting aside of old differences. During Adam’s recuperation, her friends and their husbands had come to pay their respects to him, and the exchanges had been warm and genuine on both sides.

  “How is Garrity’s noggin, by the by?” Tessa forked up a bite of treacle tart as Swift Nick watched alertly from her lap. “Have the loose screws settled back into place?”

  “Tessa.” Emma nudged her sister-in-law.

  “What?” Tessa’s sooty lashes swept up over her jade-green eyes. “Gabby already told us he was having problems in that area. I just wanted to know if his memory had returned.”

  “Not yet.” Gabby summoned a smile. “But Dr. Abernathy said it would take time.”

  “How are the children adjusting to Mr. Garrity’s condition?” Maggie asked.

  “Better than expected—far better, actually,” Gabby admitted. “Before the accident, he wasn’t home as much, and Fiona and Max are enjoying having more of his company. And vice versa.”

  The truth was that Fiona and Max had been following Adam around as if he were the Pied Piper, and he didn’t seem to mind. Prior to the injury, he’d worked long hours at the office. When at home, he’d been preoccupied with his many business dealings, and his interactions with the children were limited to scheduled times. His behavior was not unusual for gentlemen of their class. By any standard, he was a good father.

  Since the accident, he’d become an exceptional one.

  He’d been a captive and enthusiastic audience to Fiona’s many recitals. He’d read to both the children…and helped Max to read a few lines of a story by himself. Recalling the shining look of accomplishment on her son’s face, Gabby felt her heart squeeze.

  “And you, my dear?” Emma’s voice drew her back. “How are you managing?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  Emma’s scrutiny made her squirm a little in her seat. In addition to being a duchess, Emma was also an amateur investigator. She’d learned from the best as her eldest brother Ambrose Kent operated a famous private enquiry firm. Now Em was turning those keen observation skills on Gabby.

  “Perhaps I’m a bit peaked,” Gabby confessed.

  “Swift Nick could fit into the bags under your eyes,” Tessa said.

  Aghast, Gabby covered her cheeks with her hands. “Do I look that horrid?”

  “Not horrid, just tired,” Tessa said bluntly. “Have you been sleeping?”

  “Yes, but not well.” She sighed. “Whenever I close my eyes, I start to think…”

  “About what, dearest?” Emma asked.

  Faced with the concern of her friends, Gabby said haltingly, “About what could have happened. About the future…”

  To her horror, her voice cracked. She heard her schoolmistress’s voice. Hide your flaws…

  “I’m so…sorry,” Gabby said, fighting the surge of heat behind her eyes.

  “My poor dear.” Emma came over in a rustle of plum taffeta. Her hand moved in soothing circles over Gabby’s back. “Let it all out.”

  The permission opened floodgates. Suddenly, Gabby was sobbing.

  She cried and cried and cried until she couldn’t anymore.

  “There, now. How do you feel?” Emma murmured.

  Taking the handkerchief her friend held out, Gabby blew her nose.

  “Tired but better. And embarrassed,” she added in a small voice.

  “There’s naught to be embarrassed about. We all need a good cry now and again.” Maggie leaned forward in her seat. “And you’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “Why don’t you tell us about it?” Tessa suggested. “Maybe we can help.”

  Gabby didn’t know if it was the strain of recent weeks or her friends’ empathy, but she found herself talking. Hesitantly at first, then with increasing alacrity, she shared her fears and worries. How long would Adam’s amnesia last? What if he never recovered his memory? Was she doing enough to help him?

  “And he’s different,” she concluded.

  Tessa’s brow furrowed. “Different in a good or bad way?”

  “Not bad,” she said after a sniffle. “Just different. Sometimes I feel as if he’s…a stranger.”

  “Perhaps if you could give us an example?” Maggie suggested.

  “I think he’s been flirting with me,” she said in a mortified rush.

  Silence blanketed the room. A giggle escaped Tessa, which seemed to have a domino effect on Emma and Maggie. Soon the three of them were pealing with laughter.

  “What is so amusing?” Hurt and bewildered, Gabby said, “I’m serious.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma gasped. “It’s just that…well, flirting, it’s quite normal between husband and wife, isn’t it?”

  “Between you and your husbands, perhaps.” Gabby twisted the damp linen in her hands. “But Adam is not the flirting sort. He’s direct and honest; he’d never pay a compliment if he didn’t mean it.”

  Tessa’s fine brows drew together. “What makes you think his compliments aren’t sincere?”

  “He told me my hair reminded him of roses,” Gabby said miserably. “And that my eyes stole the blue out of heaven.”

  Looking confused, Tessa said, “That’s good…isn’t it?”

  “If it were true. But I’ve got carroty hair and ordinary eyes.” Her cheeks hot, Gabby said fiercely, “My Adam, the one before the accident, would never tease me so horribly!”

  “Did she compare her hair to carrots?” Maggie raised her brows at Emma and Tessa. “And she thinks her eyes are ordinary?
”

  “That’s Gabby.” Emma sighed. “She refuses to see that she’s beautiful.”

  “You’re only saying that because you’re my friends and ever so kind,” Gabby said with as much dignity as she could muster. “But the truth is my looks don’t matter to me because I had a husband who saw beyond them. Whose honesty I valued more than flummery—”

  “Hold up,” Tessa interrupted. “Are you saying that the old Garrity never told you that you were beautiful?”

  “Not in so many words. That is, he told me he found me pleasing,” she added hastily when Tessa’s visage darkened, “and how proud he was to call me his wife, but he wasn’t one for romantic notions. He was quite forthright about it when he offered for me.”

  “Every man should tell his wife she is beautiful,” Tessa declared.

  “At least once a day,” Emma agreed.

  “Communication is important in a relationship.” With a rueful smile, Maggie said, “Ransom and I are discovering this for ourselves.”

  Fatigue pounded at Gabby’s temples. Every marriage was built differently, and her friends didn’t understand the sort of union that she and Adam had constructed. Perhaps not all the doors had been open between them, but the walls of privacy had made her feel safe. She’d always had a place to retreat, to hide. Their arrangement had worked…hadn’t it?

  She pushed aside the niggling doubts. She didn’t want to besmirch Adam in her friends’ eyes, nor did she want to argue with them. The truth was that she, herself, didn’t quite understand why she was upset over his compliments.

  “Perhaps the crux of what is bothering you isn’t the flirting per se, but the fact that your husband seems changed?”

  Maggie’s insight reverberated through Gabby, shaking loose a fresh wave of tears.

  “I love him.” She dabbed at her eyes. “What if I’ve lost him—who he truly is—for good?”

  “But he’s here, dear, isn’t he? And doing better day by day.” Reaching over, Emma patted Gabby’s hand. “And pardon my saying, but the changes in him do not sound terrible. Your husband now takes more interest in the children and expresses an attraction to your person. That is no cause for distress, I daresay.”