Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess

by Violet Hamers

  He stroked her cheek gently. “Nothing. Tell me about your day.”

  She tilted her head slightly to the side. Her shrewd eyes clearly did not believe him, but he saw her decide not to press the issue. She smiled softly.

  “Come and sit down. I will pour you some tea.”

  She took his hat and coat again and he returned to the spot on the couch that he had previously claimed. As she busied herself around him, pushing over the tea cart and preparing his cup, his feelings of guilt came back stronger than ever.

  She was so eager to serve him. Almost too eager. She would waste away here with nothing to do.

  “I wish I could bring you home to Hadminster tonight, and be done with all this death and intrigue,” he said as she placed a warm cup in his hands.

  “Have you heard from Detective Collins today?” she asked lightly, sipping her own cup of tea.

  “Yes, though I may as well not have. There is nothing more to say about the case. No new developments. It’s stalled once more.” He put down his cup and reached for her, his hand coming to rest on her knee. “Oh, Elizabeth. May I tell you the truth?”

  “Of course you may. Always,” she said, with a quiet earnestness that warmed his heart.

  “The truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid that this case has become my whole life. Seven years ago it happened, and I’d never been able to move on from it. Then I met you, and for that brief, shining moment in time, I thought I’d finally been able to close the door on that period. I feel almost…” He hesitated, his eyes going to the floor.

  “What, Gerard?” she asked quietly.

  The sounds of the people on the street below were muffled by the windows. Gerard felt as though Elizabeth’s room were cut off from the rest of the world. It was a quiet haven, but it could also become a prison. It was his fault that she was here, rather than quietly living the life of her own making at Stonehill.

  “I know it sounds mad. But I almost feel as though I am being punished for believing that I could leave Christine behind. Perhaps love is something that is simply forbidden for me. And to try and change that will bring only more pain.”

  Elizabeth was silent. Terribly silent. And he feared that he had said something he should not have.

  “I’ve never heard you speak this way,” she said at last. “You are not yourself today.”

  “You’re right,” he said. He took her hand in his own and squeezed it, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I just don’t know if I am being too selfish with you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. “I won’t. I’m safe here. Detective Collins will find out who has been doing these things, and we will be able to put this behind us. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  Her voice had slipped into a calming, almost motherly cadence as she stroked his hair. He melted against her, allowing himself to be enveloped by her feminine comfort.

  “I feel trapped, Elizabeth. All I want is to bring you home. But all I want is to stay here and force an end to this mystery. How can I want two perfectly conflicting things, at the same time? Detective Collins took another case today. If I leave here, the poisoner will slip out of everyone’s memory and get away with what they’ve done,” he murmured into the quiet room, listening to the gentle rise and fall of Elizabeth’s calm breathing.

  “We must stay in London, you are right,” she answered in a whisper. “Hadminster will wait for us.”

  “I ran away last time,” he continued. “Like a coward, I wanted to be free from the constant reminders of her more than I wanted to find justice. I let her down by letting her killer get away. And now I’m paying for it.”

  “Last time was different. I survived, Gerard. And now you will not have to face it alone. I’m with you.”

  Gerard tried to let her assurances sink in beyond the guilt and fear. He nodded slowly to himself. She was right. With her help, and her comfort, he would surely be able to stick around until the killer was caught this time. He just had to believe.

  “You must be terribly lonesome here all day, alone.” He straightened up, trying to recover from his moment of weakness.

  “More of a fish out of water. But I’m all right. Please don’t worry yourself about me.”

  Always so selfless. I truly don’t deserve her.

  “I caught wind of Bridget’s plans at the end of this week to go to the opera. I’d like to take you along. Do you like the opera?” The atmosphere in the room lightened as he endeavored to put their past conversation to rest by changing the subject.

  “I hardly know,” she laughed. “I haven’t seen many, as you can imagine.”

  “You’ll love it, Elizabeth. Come with me.”

  “I haven’t got an opera gown,” she demurred.

  “Bridget will be happy to lend you one. But you cannot be wearing my sister’s clothes forever. I will leave you with money, and shopping for clothes of your own will at least give you some way to occupy yourself.” He grinned, fully expecting Elizabeth to bloom under the prospect of being sent into the city with a purse full of money.

  Instead, she blushed and seemed to shrink. “I’ve always done my own sewing. I hardly know how to speak to a dressmaker. I don’t know what’s in fashion. I don’t know—”

  “Shh…” he laughed. “All right, I see the problem. I shall send Bridget and Rosaline along with you. They will certainly jump at the chance to make a doll of you, but don’t let them trample over you. I’d rather see you in clothes you love than watch you squirm in some fashionable gown you hate.” He kissed her forehead.

  “Thank you, Gerard,” she said softly.

  “It’s the least I can do, after putting you through so much.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The afternoon of visiting the linendraper, the haberdasher, and the dressmaker, all in a matter of a few hours, was a whirlwind. Elizabeth felt positively beside herself by the end of it. Bridget and Rosaline didn’t seem to notice.

  “You’ll look simply ravishing in that pale yellow,” Bridget was gushing as the three women tumbled into Elizabeth’s room at the inn. “With your dark hair and light complexion, oh, it’s absolutely marvelous. I simply cannot wait to see the full effect.”

  Elizabeth spilled the hat box she’d been carrying onto the table. Inside was a hat of straw and ribbons and silk flowers the likes of which she’d never dreamed she would own. She couldn’t wear it yet. It wouldn’t go with anything she currently had in her wardrobe, which was mainly composed of simple black or navy gowns that were necessarily simple and utilitarian. The prospect of wearing clothes that were too fine or complex for her to sew herself opened up a whole new world to her. But it was a world she did not feel comfortable exploring yet.

  “Thank you both so much for going with me today. I would have been lost without you,” Elizabeth said airily.

  “It was our pleasure, naturally,” Rosaline said, sitting herself down in a chair and daintily rubbing her ankle.

  “It’s always a pleasure to spend Gerard’s money,” Bridget said, eliciting another round of laughter from everyone. “Next time you are in London after the wedding, you’ll be spoiled beyond recognition!”

  Elizabeth laughed as she called down for tea to be brought for the three of them in her room.

  “I hope not. I’m a bit afraid, to tell the truth. I don’t know anything about being a Duchess. And I don’t want my…my identity to be obscured by sudden wealth. It’s all so overwhelming.”

  “Oh Lizzie. May I call you Lizzie? You are too good. It’s no wonder my brother fell for you.”

  Lizzie…

  No one had ever called her by a pet name. Not in all her years of life had she ever been called anything more familial than Elizabeth or Miss Peaton.

  “Yes, please do call me Lizzie. Nothing would make me happier,” she replied. Bridget smiled warmly at her and Elizabeth felt some of her worries melt away.

  The three of th
em were soon served tiny sandwiches and hot, milky tea. The room, which had begun to feel oppressively large and empty, was transformed by the company of the two women. Laughter and idle chatter filled the dark corners and Elizabeth felt at peace.

  The following day, Bridget arrived with a trunk full of gowns for Elizabeth to choose from for the opera. They spent the afternoon dressing Elizabeth up and trying to decide which shade of pink offset her cheeks the best. It was all frivolous nonsense. Elizabeth knew that. But it was a pleasant distraction.

  “The last time you dressed me up, I got sick.” Elizabeth said, offhand, as Bridget adjusted the neckline of an older gown that was slightly too tight for Elizabeth.

  “Are you nervous?” Bridget asked, freezing and looking at Elizabeth in the mirror, with concern on her lovely face. The comparison between Elizabeth, in her too-tight gown and Bridget, with her ephemeral grace, was too obvious then. Gerard may love her, but Elizabeth was still a stranger to this world of beauty and wealth.

  “A little bit. Though I know it’s foolish. I will have to go out in public again sometime.”

  “Maybe just eat before you leave, though. To be safe.”

  With that word of advice, Elizabeth spent the second half of the week alone again, with the decided on champagne-colored gown hanging on the door to her bedroom. She looked at it every day, her excitement growing. When Gerard came to visit her, she closed the door so he would not see it before the night of the opera.

  As luck would have it, it was raining the day of the opera. Elizabeth watched at the window as raindrops made tracks down the glass and fog obscured her view of the street. The smell of damp dust permeated the room and Elizabeth managed to spend most of the day worrying that the damp would muddy the hem of Bridget’s gown.

  As soon as Gerard arrived with the carriage, her worry evaporated. The rain had slowed to a faint mist and the night lowered over the city like a sigh. He took her hand, the heat of his palm seeping through her glove, and helped her into the carriage, which was already bursting with Bridget, Rosaline, and Jonathan.

  “I hear this is your first opera!” The Duke exclaimed jovially as she settled herself between the two women.

  “Yes. I can’t thank you enough for having me along.”

  Gerard was seated across from her, and his eyes never left her form. He grinned at her, and that now familiar heat coursed through her as he clearly appreciated her figure in the borrowed gown. Could anyone else see the desire in his eyes? She felt her face growing hot and looked away before she could stop herself from imagining his hands tearing the gown off her shoulders.

  Marry me soon, Gerard. I cannot wait much longer.

  “Gerard, are you feeling all right?” The voice of Rosaline came at Elizabeth’s left and she was jolted back to the present.

  “What? Yes, of course. What do you mean?” Gerard looked flustered.

  “You had this odd look on your face. I was just worried.”

  Elizabeth struggled not to laugh, masking her mirth with a cough.

  The opera house was more opulent than Elizabeth could have dreamed. Her eyes were dazzled by the rich velvets and heavy brocade of the interior, and she gripped onto Gerard’s proffered arm as to a lifeline. She felt as though she were an intruder, disguised as a member of the gentry, as she slipped like a spy into their secret meetings.

  The box they were led to was dark and private, hung with maroon velvet. Gerard steered Elizabeth to the front, slipping a pair of opera glasses into her hand as he seated himself next to and a bit behind her.

  When the lights were lowered and the curtain of the stage was drawn up, Elizabeth felt Gerard’s hand on her waist as he leaned towards her shoulder.

  “You look like an angel,” he whispered darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. She nearly jolted when she felt his fingers trail up her back and come to rest at the nape of her neck.

  Her breath became shallow as she gripped onto the brass handle of the opera glasses. The others were seated mere inches away in the dark theater box, their faces trained on the stage. But anyone could glance aside and see the intimate way he was touching her and guess at what he was whispering in her ear.

  She shivered, her entire body trembling under his feather-like touch. He must have felt it, because she could feel his lips pulling into a smile as he kissed behind her ear.

  Rosaline, who was seated to Elizabeth’s right, shifted backwards in her seat and suddenly Gerard pulled away from her. His fingertips left the top of her spine and her neck felt suddenly cold where his warm breath had been a moment ago. Elizabeth swayed forward, as though she had been loosed suddenly from some invisible thread he’d tied her up in.

  The opera swam before Elizabeth’s eyes. She tried to pay attention, but all she could focus her mind on was the nearness of his body in the dark.

  She had gone her entire life managing to choke down any lascivious feelings before they became unmanageable. It seemed incredible that one gentleman could undo all of that learned control in such a short amount of time. She hardly recognized herself, as she sat there in a public place, positively simmering in lust at such a slight touch.

  She chanced a look over her shoulder at him. He’d been watching the stage, but at the movement of her head his eyes met hers. Only for a moment, though, before he let his gaze trail down the side of her face and lower before smirking up at her once more.

  For the rest of the opera, she did not dare look back at him again. But the entire time, her skin was aflame, aching for his touch, tingling in anticipation of a brush of skin that did not come. He did not tease her again, apparently not daring to risk being caught out by Rosaline, who seemed bored of the opera and kept shifting in her seat and looking around.

  By the end of it, Elizabeth felt impossibly drained, as though she had been exerting herself for the entire duration of the opera. When the lights came up, she felt as though she were returning from some deep dream state. Gerard was at her side as soon as she stood, and she wrapped her arm around his, drawing as near to him as was allowable in public.

  “How did you like it, love?” he asked quietly.

  She chuckled, lowering her voice. “It was torture, you scoundrel.”

  He grinned, craning his neck to murmur in her ear. “You can punish me once we are married. For now, try and stop blushing. People are looking.”

  Elizabeth chewed her lip and glanced around. Straightening her spine, she took a deep breath, willing the color to drain from her cheeks.

  Calm down, you fool.

  “Better?” she asked wryly.

  He laughed. “It’ll do. Personally, I quite enjoy that wild look in your eye. Come on, it looks like Bridget wants to introduce you around some more. She’ll not rest until you are universally beloved by every member of London society.”

  * * *

  Gerard could see the strain in Elizabeth’s face as she smiled politely at yet another baroness that his sister introduced her to. Her grip on his arm had gone slack, and it was plain that she was exhausted.

  Watching her from the corner of his eye, he worried about her. Although she would never admit it, he knew that this whole ordeal since he had arrived in London had been trying for her. He had thought that the night at the opera would lighten her spirits, and perhaps it had for a while, but her tiredness worried him.

  “Darling, do you wish to leave?” he whispered in her ear during a lull of conversation.

  She looked up at him for a moment, looking as though she were weighing her own desires against her need to appear polite. Then she nodded.

  “All right,” he said, and discreetly indicated to the others that it was time to go. Bridget disengaged herself with some difficulty from her friends and soon they were all piled into the carriage again. Rosaline and Bridget chattered away endlessly about the opera, the gossip about the players, and the people they’d seen.

  Elizabeth was quiet. This time, she sat next to him rather than across and she kept her arm wrapped around his
elbow, leaning on him slightly. He discreetly stroked the side of her arm with the backs of his fingertips until they arrived back at the inn.

  Hopping out of the carriage, he helped her down.

  “I’ll see her to her room,” he said to the others, ignoring a knowing chuckle from Rosaline as he shut the door.

  “What a night!” Elizabeth said as they climbed the stairs to her rooms.

  “Was it too much? You look exhausted.” When they reached her door, he took both of her hands in his.

  “Not too much. I’m just…all of this is new to me. You are used to it, but I will need time to acclimate. I’ve usually been in bed for two hours by now,” she laughed slightly. “Late nights out are foreign to me.”