“You certainly sound like you are. Perhaps it is time for you to leave.”
“No,” Gabriel snarled, fighting down panic as his damp clothing clung to his skin, and his foot began to cramp. “I’m…a duke.”
The little weasel blinked, then his face smoothed into an expression far worse than disdain. Pity. “Of course you are. No doubt you have a calling card to correct my wrong.”
Bloody hell. Now he wanted to give himself an uppercut. Of all the items to forget today, the small engraved case of cream parchment cards with his title and address. “Left…at home. But I am Ex—”
“Someone in need of assistance,” said the young man in the overloud and fake-kindly tone often reserved for those with a disability. “You’ve clearly lost your way, sir. Perhaps you have a relative nearby? A nurse? They’ll be worried sick about you. Here, let’s look out in the street. I’m sure we’ll find them.”
“What…” Gabriel spluttered, but his humiliation continued in front of everyone in the jeweler, ladies and gentlemen, footmen, and other assistants, as he got taken by the arm and herded toward the front door like a fractious horse.
“Come along. Hmmm, the weather is a bit rainy, isn’t it? Naughty rain.”
If he had a dagger or his trusty cane with the retractable blade, the young man would be choking on his own cock right now. “Damn it—”
“There you go. I’ve helped you to the street. Aren’t I nice? Oh, look! I’m sure those are your people right over there,” said the shop assistant, gesturing at a group of strangers. “Good day to you, sir.”
And with that, Gabriel was discreetly shoved outside, hard enough to make him stumble and plant his foot right in the middle of a fresh pile of horseshit.
That bloody well did it.
He was never leaving the townhouse again.
Lilian stared at her looking glass and smoothed both her coiled braid and her jonquil-striped tea gown for the thousandth time, her stomach swirling with anticipation. She’d changed her mind on which gown to wear for the meeting with Exton and the steward Mr. Fairlie so many times already Dawn might well be ready to strangle her, but today was too important.
She wanted to look just right. To make Exton proud. It was so kind of him to indulge her unusual interest in the practical aspects of growing plants and crops, especially in permitting her the opportunity to ask questions of a steward when these were very much men’s matters.
“You look lovely, Your Grace. Really lovely.”
Lilian smiled ruefully at Dawn. “I do apologize for my indecisiveness.”
Her maid shrugged, her arms laden with discarded gowns. “A duchess must look the part for each occasion. You’ve chosen well. Formal, but not too formal. Pretty, with that lace on the hem, but not fussy. And beg pardon, ma’am, but it fits you much better in the bodice than your other gowns. I’m sure His Grace will appreciate it.”
A blush heated her cheeks. In a single, petty act of rebellion the previous year, she had discreetly slipped their seamstress a shilling and asked that one gown not be quite as modest as the others. She’d hidden it right at the back of her armoire so Grandmother didn’t find it, and hadn’t ever worn it. But for some reason this afternoon, the gown, with its tighter bodice that cupped her full breasts and scandalously left her neck and the tops of her shoulders bare, called her name like a Siren. “We’ll see.”
With one last pat to her hair, Lilian made her way downstairs. Her clock had said half-past one, still another half hour until Mr. Fairlie’s visit, but she wanted to speak with Exton first and see if he had any instructions for her, or if there were any topics he wished to discuss with the steward on his own. She certainly didn’t want a repeat of the previous evening, when she inadvertently stumbled onto something that strained the fragile understanding between them.
When she arrived outside his library door, Lilian took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Exton?”
She waited for a call of ‘enter’ as proper, and frowned when it didn’t come. “Exton?” she tried again, rapping her knuckles harder against the heavy oak. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her.
Still no reply.
Lilian bit her lip. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want her to take part in the meeting after all? A voice of reason chastised her immediate disappointment. Perhaps he merely prepared elsewhere. His bedchamber did have a large desk in the corner, one obviously used regularly.
Returning to the entrance hall, she reluctantly approached their butler. Norris made her hackles rise, and she’d reprimanded him twice already about the laxness of some footmen. In all honesty she would happily dismiss him, but couldn’t do that without Exton’s permission. “Norris, have you seen His Grace?”
The gray-haired, pinch-lipped man’s gaze slid away from her. “No, madam.”
Affront made her breath catch. Liar! “How odd. Most butlers know where their master is at all times.”
Norris went rigid. Then a slight sneer curled his lips. “Are you insisting I tell you?”
She frowned in annoyance. “I am.”
“Very well. His Grace left some hours ago for an appointment in town.”
“Oh really?” she said, her tone cooling further. Yet another lie? Even before their marriage, Exton had apparently rarely left the townhouse. “I am unaware of any appointment.”
The butler’s sneer became a smirk. “His Grace did not mention the particulars. I would hazard a guess that it is a private appointment. The kind not mentioned to wives.”
Mortification stabbed her to the heart. “I see. Thank you,” she choked out, forcing her legs to continue on to the smaller blue parlor where she might be alone.
Exton had gone to be with his mistress.
It shouldn’t sting so much, not when theirs wasn’t a love match, and nearly all peers did the same. Mistresses were a perfectly unexceptional ton practice, even heartily encouraged by some wives. But it did hurt, like a nasty pinch to the arm, and explained why he hadn’t visited her bedchamber the past three nights. Getting her with child was a duty. Yet manly appetites stretched far beyond that, and he would want the pleasure that only an experienced and familiar lover could provide.
Walking over to the parlor window, Lilian stared dully out into Grosvenor Square. The earlier rain had cleared away, and grand carriages and prime horseflesh now made their way around the wide, pale cobblestone road. In amongst them darted small groups of laughing, well-dressed young men. Further away was the jewel of the square, the central large expanse of emerald green lawn, symmetrical shrubbery, and elm trees, surrounded by iron railings, for the garden could only be enjoyed by residents. There she could see governesses and their charges, and matrons walking arm in arm, most probably sharing the latest on dits. Unhappily for her current mood, both in the central garden and on the road, she could also see couples. Ladies and gentlemen walking with their heads tilted toward each other, gloved fingers curled around arms, both smiling as they spoke or exchanged quick glances that spoke of shared secrets and a longing for privacy so they might steal a kiss.
Envy overwhelmed her, and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the large, high window. The ladies walking outside might well give anything to be a duchess, but at this moment, she would happily swap her coronet for a man to look at her with real love and affection in his eyes.
“Lilian! There you are.”
She nearly jumped a foot in the air at Exton’s voice behind her, and tried to turn calmly toward him instead of jerking around guiltily at his irritable tone. “Good afternoon.”
“What are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be in my library. For the meeting.”
Lilian’s insides clenched. She was tardy?
“I am sorry, Exton. I must have lost track of time. I will come with you at once,” she replied, hurrying across the more sparsely furnished parlor to him. For heaven’s sake. He’d granted her a boon, and she’d embarrassed him.
“To my library, then,” Exton said, offering his arm
.
She took it immediately, shivering when his other hand reached around to clamp her fingers to his sleeve. His skin felt warm, and his arm so powerfully unyielding, it made her want to lean against him and absorb the heat and fresh scent of herbs and soap surrounding him. But she wouldn’t. Not when she knew the reason he had recently bathed. “Of course.”
“Why were you leaning on the window?” Exton asked abruptly. “Are you unwell?”
“No, no,” she hastily assured him with a forced smile. “Just people watching. It’s finally stopped raining out there.”
Exton scowled. “Of course.”
Determined to remain cheerful, she added, “There were quite a few out and about in the square. Couples. Children and governesses, a group of young lads…”
“Young lads all need a damned kick…in the backside.”
Lilian’s heart sank. Obviously, the visit to his mistress hadn’t left him in a good enough temper to forgive her mistake. In fact, he seemed particularly irritable. Deciding it would be prudent not to annoy him any further with meaningless small talk, she remained silent as they continued on to his library.
Suddenly, she wasn’t looking forward to this meeting with Mr. Fairlie one bit.
Damn his too-beautiful wife.
Gabriel slid into the padded chair behind his library desk with a sigh of relief. At least now he could better hide the erection tenting his trousers. He was already on edge after his bloody awful morning, but then Lilian hadn’t appeared for their meeting, and he’d had to instruct bloody Norris to have Fairlie cool his heels in the entrance hall until she could be found.
He’d been worried, thinking her injured or unwell. And then he’d found her, casually leaning against the parlor window looking like a painting of Venus, her rounded backside arched toward him, and those lush, full breasts he still hadn’t seen lovingly outlined by a gown bodice that actually fit her for once. But worst of all, the gown in question revealed her neck and shoulders. Slender, elegant, and made to display an expensive necklace.
The perfect taunts to the day he’d had, all wrapped up in one delectable and innocently erotic package. If he had his way, Lilian would be naked, spread across his desk, and stuffed full with his cock right now. They certainly wouldn’t be talking to a steward.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said Fairlie with a friendly grin, as Norris escorted him into the library.
“Fairlie,” he replied, nodding in return. “Come and meet Her Grace. Lilian, may I present Mr. Fairlie, ex-army sergeant and steward of the Rutland county estate.”
Lilian rose to her feet and held out her hand, and the steward clasped it gently. “A great pleasure to meet you, Duchess.”
She regally inclined her head. “And you, Mr. Fairlie. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and ideas.”
“Would you like to see the ledgers first, sir?”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll take this one. Lilian, you take the other. We’ll read then ask questions.”
His wife stared at him, surprise plain on her face. Yet there was keen interest there, too. “Are you sure? I am not familiar with estate ledgers.”
“Good time to learn.”
A smile lit up her face, like a child given sweets. Hell, she really was a curious little kitten if the chance to read a damned estate ledger was a boon. But he wanted to please her, especially when he’d been such a lackluster husband so far.
Fairlie handed over the two leather-bound ledgers, and for the next several hours Lilian studied hers closely, asking crisp, thoughtful questions. That led to a spirited debate between the three of them regarding possible new crops for the rich, fertile soils enjoyed in the county, modern farming techniques, and the pros and cons of dairy against beef cattle, and for the first time, the ledgers began to make sense. At eight o’clock they stopped for supper trays with roasted chicken, sliced green beans, asparagus in butter sauce, wine, brandy, and berry tarts with clotted cream.
Admiration surged through him at Lilian’s efforts, and it seemed Fairlie was more than a little in awe of her. As Gabriel already knew and the steward would soon learn, the Duchess of Exton was an intelligent and articulate woman. Somehow that made his cock even harder, even when she asked her hundredth question about crop diversity.
“Getting back to our last discussion, what do you think, sir?” asked Fairlie as he set aside his empty dessert plate. Rather endearing, how much the ex-sergeant genuinely enjoyed his work. “One kind of crop, or many? Her Grace favors many.”
Gabriel took a sip of brandy and nodded slowly. “I would have to agree. Not in equal measure, one main then several depending on demand. Cost. Return on investment. Ease of harvest. Farmhands available. That sort of thing.”
“Precisely, Exton,” said Lilian, smiling approvingly, and suddenly he felt like some sort of agricultural crop managing king.
It had been a very educational meeting, but now his mind had absorbed enough unfamiliar information for one day. The only thing he wanted to do was bed Lilian.
“Thank you for coming here, Fairlie. We won’t take up any more of your time. But if possible, we would like to…see you again tomorrow. To discuss the accounts.”
A significant look passed between him and the steward, and Fairlie stood and bowed. “As you wish, sir. My wife knows I’ll be spending another day in London. I’d best take her a gift though. The funniest thing, she is the most practical woman on God’s green earth, but her pretty head can always be turned by figurines. They are her not-so-secret vice, especially the strange ones with dancing foxes and cats wearing bonnets and whatnot. I don’t understand it, but a new figurine is often the way to wriggle back into her good graces.”
Unexpectedly, Lilian laughed. “It sounds like you know Mrs. Fairlie well. And you still call her pretty. That is lovely.”
Fairlie shrugged. “We’ve been wed thirty-five years, and in my eyes, she’ll always be.”
His wife bit her lip and looked away, then she turned back to the steward. “I look forward to meeting her. Exton and I may well tour the estates come summer. I would certainly enjoy seeing your good work firsthand.”
“It would be our pleasure to host you, Your Grace. Until tomorrow, then. Good evening to you both.”
After Fairlie left the room, Lilian shifted and resettled herself in her chair several times. Finally, she said, “How do you think that went, Exton? I thought, ah, quite satisfactory.”
“You were magnificent,” Gabriel said simply.
She stood up, then spent an inordinate amount of time shaking out her gown and smoothing the pleats. “Well, ah, I do very much appreciate the opportunity to learn. It’s all so interesting. Grandmother would have palpitations if she knew how many questions I asked, though. She thinks my inquisitiveness is vulgar.”
Gabriel stood and flexed his foot, before moving around his desk to stand in front of her. Deliberately close. “I don’t agree. If you wish to join us again, you may.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I would love to.”
“And I would love to do this.”
Leaning down as though to politely kiss her right cheek, Gabriel instead moved past and pressed his mouth to that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder, kissing her there.
“E-Exton,” she said, her breath catching.
“Hmmm?” he replied, shifting his head so he could attend to the other side of her neck. But this time rather than a brief kiss, he grasped her upper arms to hold her still, and gently scraped his teeth across her silken flesh before flicking it with his tongue, once, twice, three times.
Lilian quivered, and he wanted to growl in triumph when her nipples visibly peaked against the much tighter bodice of her gown.
“This is not p-proper,” she said, even as she tilted her neck for more.
“Not proper to kiss my wife?” Gabriel murmured, nipping her flesh and making her gasp.
“We’re in your l-library! And I thought that since you already, um, attended to your m-manly needs today, you w
ouldn’t want to, ah…”
As her voice trailed off, he frowned in confusion. “I did what?”
She leaned back, her cheeks scarlet. “Your appointment.”
Clarity hit him like a bolt of lightning. While he’d been getting rained on, mocked by a green stripling, escorted from a jeweler, and shoved into horseshit, his wife thought he’d been fucking another woman.
“Lilian,” he said slowly, so he could be as clear as possible. “I don’t have a mistress.”
“You don’t?”
The relief in her eyes and brightening of her smile kindled an answering warmth inside him, enough to drag the embarrassing tale from his lips. “Today I went out…to that jeweler. Rundell…”
“Rundell, Bridge and Rundell? I know it well. Mr. Philip Rundell is always so kind.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Unfortunately not him. A young assistant. Short. Brown hair in a queue. Never been outside. Soft hands. He…”
Lilian’s brow furrowed. “He what? What happened, Exton?”
“The assistant didn’t know me,” he said eventually. “Thought I was poor. Drunk. Or needing a nursemaid. I got…escorted from the building.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Then shoved outside into horsesh…er…manure. Ruined my shoes. Got it on my stockings. Had to bathe and change.”
Lilian gasped, and her hands went to her hips. “That is an outrage. To treat the Duke of Exton so shamefully. I am appalled. How dare he. How dare he! Inexcusable behav—”
His mouth crashing onto hers cut off the word, his hands cupping her face as he plundered the sweetness of her lips and darted his tongue inside, lust ignited to fever point by her indignant anger on his behalf.
As though she cared a little.
Then, his cock near-strangled by his trousers once again, he pulled back. “Upstairs. Your bedchamber. Now.”
Lilian stared up at him, sapphire eyes wide, her pouty lips swollen, and taut nipples straining against her bodice. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Duke in Darkness (Wickedly Wed Book 1) Page 9
