The Duchess in His Bed

by Heath Lorraine

  “I’d like that very much.”

  He turned his attention back to the woman who’d given birth to him. “If you find yourself in need of anything at all, send word to me.”

  “Perhaps you’ll join me for dinner sometime.”

  “I won’t be a stranger. I promise you that. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

  “I keep hoping I’ll find a list of where Elverton took all the children, but I fear for him once they were out of sight, they were out of mind. But I know from experience that they never left their mother’s hearts.”

  “I like our brother,” Finn said.

  They were sitting at a back table at the Mermaid and Unicorn, downing their pints as though tomorrow all beer and ale would be banned from Britain. They’d gone up to see Elverton before leaving. Aiden had expected to feel some sort of satisfaction at seeing the earl so helpless with his sagging features. Instead, he’d merely felt sad that such a vile excuse for a human being had ever existed.

  “I don’t know how he managed to turn out halfway decent. I do know I’m glad the bugger didn’t keep me.”

  Finn grinned. “The rotter.”

  Aiden laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. “Right. The rotter.”

  “Our brother might be in need of a bit of corrupting.”

  “And you, as the irritatingly happily married man, are just the one to do it.”

  “Point made. Those days are behind me.”

  They both sipped in silence for a while.

  “Your blows didn’t cause his apoplexy,” Finn finally said.

  “No, but our presence did. His face was red with fury and hatred. He despised us.”

  “We were a reminder of his sins.”

  “I don’t think he cared anything about sinning. I think he just didn’t want to be bothered by us. We were an inconvenience.”

  “I’m glad he gave us away and never publicly acknowledged us. He’s despicable. I wouldn’t want to be associated with him.” He took a swallow of his beer. “Your mother, though—she seemed decent enough.”

  “Made mistakes in her youth, though.”

  “Didn’t we all?”

  “I’m sorry the countess didn’t know who your mother might be.”

  “I never cared about my origins as much as you and Mick.” He finished off his pint, slammed it on the table. “I’m going to order another. Care to join me?”

  Aiden glanced around. “No, I have something I need to do.”

  “Say hello to her for me.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re bloody irritating, you know that?”

  Finn had the audacity to grin. “That’s what brothers are for.”

  Lady Elverton sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly skimmed her fingers along her husband’s cheek, remembering how she had once loved him enough to disobey her father, to dishonor her family. How she’d allowed him to take her first three sons from her. He’d never had much patience with children, and she suspected if he hadn’t needed an heir, he might have been content with his first wife, barren though she’d been. “Blink once for yes.”

  He blinked.

  “Twice for no.”

  Blink. Blink.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Blink.

  She cradled the jaw she had once peppered in kisses—when she was younger, more svelte, when he found her attractive. Before he’d begun bringing other women, other mistresses, into his bed within this chamber, knowing she could hear them through the wall, screaming out his name. He required that benediction. His name on their tongue at the moment of their release. She’d granted him the same favor a thousand times, even when the ultimate pleasure had eluded her. “The three bastards I placed in your arms, the ones you would not allow me to keep, they were your blood. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Blink.

  Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his forehead, one on his temple, the last near the shell of his ear. “The heir I gave you . . . was not.”

  It was a lie, of course, but it would torment him, occupy his thoughts as he lay there with an active mind but an inactive body. With a self-satisfied smile, she rose from the bed and looked down on him.

  Blink. Blink. Blink.

  A strangling, gurgling sound in his throat.

  “Careful now, darling,” she warned calmly. “You don’t want to have another apoplectic fit, surely.”

  Lovingly, she brought up the covers, tucked them in around him. “Now if you will be so good as to excuse my rudeness, I must leave you as my lover awaits.”

  Then ignoring his warbling of distress, she strolled from the room, her head held high, feeling her strength returning in full force. In her bedchamber, she took Sense and Sensibility from her night table, curled up in a chair, and turned to the page marked with a blue ribbon. Over the years, she’d had dozens of lovers, all found within the pages of novels. Her favorite was Colonel Brandon, and it was he who would keep her company this night.

  But in the future, who knew? Perhaps she’d take on a real lover. Here, within this bedchamber, where her husband could hear her cries of pleasure. Ah, yes, she would torment him as he’d tormented her.

  She would even visit Aiden’s club, enjoy all the vices he offered. No longer would she live in fear of displeasing her husband, of displeasing any man. She would seek and find the happiness and joy that had eluded her for a good portion of her life.

  Selena wasn’t surprised when the door to her bedchamber quietly opened a little after midnight and Aiden wandered in, closing and locking it behind him. Setting aside the book she’d been reading, she was grateful that he’d come to her, had hoped he would.

  Confronting his father—his sire—had to have created an emotional turmoil within him.

  Tossing off the covers, she slipped out of the bed, meeting him halfway, closing her arms around him as his circled her, holding her near. His sigh was long, drawn out, and she could feel the tension easing out of him.

  “I have whisky,” she whispered. She’d brought up a bottle and a glass, just in case he came to her.

  “All I need is you.”

  His words humbling her, her heart squeezed as tightly as her eyes. Lifting her mouth to him, she waited as he lowered his to hers. No fire, no passion, only want and intense need. She could comfort him now as she’d wanted to from the moment Lady Elverton had revealed who she was. In spite of Aiden telling Selena that things were over between them, she did not have it within her to ever turn him away. Their discussion last night had escalated beyond her control, and in spite of harsh words uttered, still she’d known he could come to her. Still she’d been willing to welcome him.

  Not releasing her hold on him, she guided them backward until her bottom hit the mattress. Easing away slightly, she cradled his beloved face between her hands, seeing in his countenance all three of his parents. The Earl and Countess of Elverton were responsible for the hills, valleys, and dips, the strong jaw, the sharp nose, the lush mouth, the shade of his eyes. But Ettie Trewlove had shaped the soul those eyes reflected, the smile that came so easily, the laugh that had first sung to her own soul. The physical features were nothing without the light that shone within him. Yes, there was a darkness to it, but it wasn’t powerful enough to put out the flame, only to reshape it and make him more complicated and faceted.

  Lowering her hands, she slid them beneath his jacket and shoved it over his shoulders, down his arms until it fell to the floor. His cravat went next, followed by his waistcoat. He didn’t move, only aided her in the divesting of his clothing. She wondered if he was in shock from what had happened with his father or if he was uncertain regarding how she might welcome him.

  When he was nude before her, she unbuttoned her nightdress and shimmied out of it before taking his hand, climbing onto the bed, and urging him to follow.

  Only one night had passed without their coming together, and already it had begun to feel an eternity. As his body covered hers, her moan was low, appreciative, gr
ateful. The feel of him was everything.

  His taking of her was slow and sensual, his kisses and touches alighting upon every inch of her skin as though he was memorizing every hollow, every ridge. As though he were well aware that this time would be the last, and he wanted it unrushed, wanted it emblazoned on his soul to carry with him as one might a well-worn miniature portrait. To be looked upon and savored.

  And she returned the favor, touching all she could reach, pressing her mouth to his throat and shoulders, scraping her fingers over his back, skimming her soles along his calves.

  When he plunged deeply, she was more than ready. Rising up, hovering over her, holding her gaze, he moved languorously in and out, as though they had the entire night, as though he didn’t need to sneak out before the servants were up and moving about.

  So much needed to be said. So much needed to be held in.

  Lifting herself up, she licked at the hollow of his throat where dew gathered, took satisfaction in his low growl. Lowering herself, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, tightening her hold, pumping her hips in rhythm with his, as sensations built and everything within her cried out for him.

  She thought she could contain the fire forming inside her, but when it broke free and engulfed her, he blanketed her mouth with his, capturing her scream as she absorbed his groan, their bodies stiffening and jerking in tandem as pleasure conquered them both.

  Replete and exhausted, he lay on his back with Selena nestled against his side, her finger drawing lazy circles on his chest. He shouldn’t have come, but he’d been unable to stay away.

  He’d needed her as the earth needed the sun and the night sky needed the stars.

  He remembered a time when sharing a pint with Finn would have been enough, would have put him in the right frame of mind to carry on, but tonight he’d required more. He’d required her.

  Gently she picked up his hand where it rested on his abdomen and brought it to her lips. “Your knuckles are bruising. You hit Elverton.”

  “Several times.”

  “Is he going to leave your mother be?”

  “He doesn’t have a choice. He had an apoplectic fit. Finn says it wasn’t my fault, that it was his anger, not my fist, that caused it.”

  Rising up on an elbow, she brushed the hair from his brow. “How bad?”

  “He can’t move, can’t speak. I almost told him that you were carrying my child, that my son would be a duke. But I realized I no longer cared what he thought. I always hoped if I achieved enough, perhaps he’d recognize me publicly. But there is no value to be found in having his regard.”

  She eased over until her thigh was nestled between his legs and half her body covered a portion of his. “You’re nothing like him, you know. You’re a much better man. More honest, more real, more caring.”

  But he had no title, no prestige. Being associated with a Trewlove did not elevate one’s status in Society. Even Gillie, who had married a duke, was not yet accepted by the nobs. If Lena wanted her sisters to marry nobility, Aiden was not the one to see that happen.

  Reaching down, he flattened his palm over her belly. “Have you felt him?”

  She placed her hand over his. “It’s too soon.”

  He was disappointed not to have the opportunity to feel his child wiggling around, and that disappointment surprised him. He’d never given any thought to having a child because he’d taken so many precautions not to have one. Now he rather liked the idea of his growing within her.

  “Aiden, we don’t have to stop seeing each other right away.”

  “It’s best, Lena, if we call it quits now. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” Easing her off him, he shoved himself to a sitting position and dropped his legs over the side of the bed.

  She splayed her fingers over his back. “I’m glad you did.”

  He wanted to roll over and take her again, which was the reason he needed to leave. Because he would always want to take her again. Would always want one more word with her. Would always want to hold her one last time. Would always long for another kiss.

  Snatching up his clothes, he began to get dressed. “Will you send word after he’s born?”

  “You don’t think our paths will cross before then?”

  Keeping his back to her, he didn’t need to see her to know sadness was reflected in her eyes, because he heard it in her tone. “I don’t see how they would.”

  “I could open a shop—”

  “Don’t, Lena.” He did look back at her then, this incredible woman who had stolen his heart. “It’ll only get harder if we continue to see each other.”

  “It’s hard now, Aiden. When I agreed to this stupid plan Winslow concocted, I always thought I could just walk away. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”

  He slammed his eyes closed as those five words—fall in love with you—words no other woman had ever bestowed on him, washed over him, through him, around him. How powerful they were. How humbling. How breathtaking.

  If he gave them back to her, if he told her how much she meant to him, they would be lost. Forever. Irrevocably. Lost.

  He was her secret. That made him easier to love. How much more difficult would it be with Society’s censure surrounding them?

  He opened his eyes. “Words easy to utter within the safe confines of the shadows. My businesses succeed because I know what people want to do in secret. A duchess can have a bit of the rough with no one the wiser. A bastard can have a duchess. What can seem wonderful in the dark can have dire consequences in the light. You deserve better than a life hidden away from even those you care about.” Such as her sisters.

  When his clothes were set to right, he reached out and cupped her chin, pressed his thumb to her lush lips. She hadn’t bothered to cover herself but just sat there like a nymph tempting the gods, and it took all his inner strength not to glide his hand over her silky skin. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”

  While everything within him urged him to stay, he strode from the room leaving nothing behind except his heart.

  Chapter 24

  Selena sat on a wrought-iron bench in the garden, watching as Connie and Flo played a game of croquet, their squeals and laughter floating around them. Beside her, Alice was reading Through the Looking-Glass.

  A week had passed since she’d seen Aiden, a week in which loneliness had been a constant companion, in spite of her sisters’ presence. She slept with her arms folded around the pillow that carried his scent, but the fragrance was fading with each breath she inhaled. A time would come when the only aspect of him that remained in her life was the child presently growing in her belly. She would forever be grateful for that gift. Still, she missed Aiden with an ache that hurt her chest.

  She glanced over at Alice. “I’d have thought you’d have finished reading that book by now.”

  With a Cheshire cat–like smile, Alice lifted her head and looked at her. “Oh I have. I’m simply reading it again. Would you like to borrow it?”

  She’d already experienced the character Alice’s adventure of stepping into a world so very different from her own. Slowly, she shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  Alice’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s odd but you seem sadder of late, sadder than you were when Lushing first passed away.”

  “I suppose it’s just the reality hitting home.”

  “The reality that you’re not with child?”

  She had yet to tell her sisters, to tell anyone, of her condition. Once she did, once she credited this child with being Lushing’s—

  Why was it so hard to move forward, to carry through with the plans? She wished she could talk with Lushing, although he would no doubt suggest they get Kit’s opinion on the matter. Perhaps she should speak with him. Surely, he would know if Lushing would hate her for the deception. “I’m not yet certain of my state.”

  Alice closed her book. “Have you had your menses since Lushing passed?”

  “It could be melancholy preventing it.” Only it wasn’
t.

  “Perhaps you should visit a physician.”

  Her sister’s voice was laced with true concern. Selena should put an end to her worry, to all their worries, by telling them a babe was on the way. But the words simply knotted in her throat, would not spill forth. Although when Winslow had visited several nights ago and asked if she were with child, she hadn’t denied it, had simply asked him to hold his tongue for a while longer.

  “Why? The sooner word spreads, the more likely people will believe it’s Lushing’s,” he’d told her.

  So she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t already whispering about her condition around Town. Which was no doubt the best way for it to be spread: in whispers. No woman would be indelicate enough to blurt out she was with child.

  “I’ll visit one next week,” she told Alice now. “After that, perhaps we’ll return to Sheffield Hall.” No point in staying in London where her sisters would be aware of all the social events they were missing out on.

  Alice scooted up to the edge of her chair. “We need to do something to brighten your day. Let’s go to Fancy’s bookshop. I’ve been dying to see it now that it’s open.”

  “Sweeting, I’m still in mourning.”

  “We all are. It’s the reason we’re dressed like crows, but it’s doubtful we’ll run into anyone we know there, and we can make it a somber excursion. We’ll only look at books that deal with death or war or murder.”

  Alice’s enthusiasm made her smile, although Selena had no desire to read books about murder since she’d nearly witnessed one firsthand. Although she wasn’t presently involved in the social scene, she did occasionally get a visitor. It seemed there were no rumors going about regarding the Earl of Elverton’s attempt to poison his wife. Her visitors did mention his unfortunate turn in health and the dedication of the countess in caring for him. One lady had admitted to seeing her waltzing at the Elysium. Selena was happy for the countess, hoped the gents at the club spoiled her with their attention. “I suppose a tranquil outing isn’t uncalled for.”