Duke in Darkness (Wickedly Wed Book 1)

by Nicola Davidson

  “She is Duchess of Exton, hear her roar,” said Dawn solemnly, her eyes twinkling.

  Yes. Indeed she was.

  Chapter 14

  What a difference a day made.

  Fortunately, Hobbs had waxed lyrical about Lilian’s speech to the servants as he’d shaved Gabriel earlier, otherwise he’d have sworn he awoke in the wrong townhouse as he descended the stairs for breakfast. Maids polishing and dusting as though Queen Charlotte herself planned to stop by, but all smiles and curtsies, rather than looking at him as though he’d been caught trying to abscond with the silver. Footmen practically sprinting to open doors for him, and those in the dining room pulling out his chair, pouring him strong tea, and handing him a plate containing all his favorite breakfast foods as soon as he walked in.

  Lilian had eventually joined him, but before he could say anything, apologize for his behavior only made worse by the fact that he’d actually missed supper with her the previous evening after falling asleep in his new chair, she had smiled, squeezed his hand, and wished him good morning. Surprised and rather confused at the undeserved warmth in her eyes, he had asked about her plans for the day, for he had a guest visiting in the afternoon he wanted her to meet. Lilian had fittings with Daisy the seamstress, but had promised to return as soon as possible.

  Now he sat here in his library waiting for both Aggie and his duchess to arrive. He’d read documents regarding taking his seat in the House, signed some drafts to pay household bills with the quill and silver inkpot sitting by his elbow, and was feeling damned bloody ducal.

  Indeed, what a difference a day—and six hours unbroken sleep—made. Even his foot was behaving, no small miracle after his foolishly prolonged ride in the freezing cold. All he needed now was time alone with Lilian so they could talk. So he could explain his actions, and thank her for the changes she’d made to the townhouse. Perhaps discuss what both of them truly wanted from their marriage. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant speaking a little more freely about his past than he’d ever wanted to with someone outside the army.

  A sharp knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts and Norris poked his head around the door, his lips pursed. “Beg pardon, but there is a Mrs. Taylor claiming she is here to take tea with you.”

  “Probably because I invited her,” Gabriel replied shortly, as he shifted in his oversized and padded chair. “Escort her in at once. And advise Hobbs.”

  The butler went a little puce in the face, but inclined his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Has my wife…returned from her outing?”

  “Not yet. Fittings for ladies do take a long time, when the dowager and Miss Clarissa went for theirs, they could be gone all day, not just a morning.”

  Gabriel gritted his teeth and tapped his quill against the desk. Perhaps it was just the butler’s overall chilly demeanor and air of superiority, but he’d disliked the man from the start. Pensioning him off grew more appealing by the day, but unlike other servants, butlers with the experience of managing large houses and fifty-odd footmen were hard to find. Norris and Mrs. Barrett had no doubt run Exton House since it was first built. “Fine. Fetch Mrs. Taylor…and arrange tea and cakes.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  The butler disappeared, and a few minutes later, Aggie bustled into the library. “Good God, Colonel. Excuse me, Your Grace. I didn’t think that man would let me inside the door. How does he manage to walk with such a giant stick lodged up his rump?”

  Gabriel grinned in delight. Aggie and her bluntness. “I’ve no idea. But don’t feel special. He looks at me like…I’m a rat in the supply tent.”

  She raised one eyebrow as she sank into a chair on the other side of his desk. “Aren’t you the duke? I thought dukes held all tickets on frigid disapproving looks. Granted my only direct experience is Wellington, but he could halt men at fifty paces with a glance.”

  “A skill I need to learn. Or should I say, the thousandth ducal skill…I need to learn.”

  “Hmmm,” Aggie said with a sigh. “I can only imagine how difficult the transition has been. I was very worried, you know, when I stopped getting letters from Kent. I thought perhaps…well, I thought the worst.”

  “You were right to think that. His Grace was not well,” came a brusque voice from the doorway, and Hobbs marched into the room looking so uncomfortably primped and polished with a severely starched cravat and oiled hair, that Gabriel stifled a laugh. “Mrs. Taylor.”

  “Mr. Hobbs,” she replied, her cheeks rosy. “Looking sharp.”

  “It’s a treat to see you again.”

  Aggie smiled when he bowed low, and the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, practically having an entire conversation with their eyes. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw the colonel riding along Rotten Row. And when he told me he had inherited the dukedom, I nearly fell off my horse.”

  “He should not have been out at that hour,” said Hobbs, shooting him a dirty look as he sat down in the chair next to Aggie. “Far too cold and damp.”

  “That is what I told him!” exclaimed Aggie. “His wounds wouldn’t be nearly healed enough to be subjected to early morning chill. Especially in London. Foolish man.”

  “I am right bloody here, you two,” said Gabriel irritably, folding his arms.

  “Indeed you are, Your Grace,” said Aggie contritely, a tone quite ruined by the glint in her eye. “With a dukedom, massive fortune, and a priggish butler to boot.”

  Hobbs scowled. “Don’t get me started on Norris. I wouldn’t trust that poisonous little weasel as far as I could toss him from a rampart.”

  Gabriel’s lips twitched. “Now, now.”

  “He reminds me of that crusty old captain…now, what was his name again?” said Aggie.

  “Captain Taylor,” said Hobbs with a perfectly straight face.

  “Oh, you wretch!” she replied, leaning sideways to smack his hand as she giggled. “Leave my late husband out of this. He was only crusty seventy percent of the time. I’m talking relentless sucker of lemons. The one who reprimanded ensigns for dusty boots after a day’s march.”

  “Captain Bunting,” said Gabriel and Hobbs at the same time, and all three laughed.

  And just like that, as Aggie and Hobbs began exchanging tales of the infamous Bunting each worse than the last, the heavy weight that had been resting on his shoulders lifted further. He hadn’t even realized how much he needed this. A situation where he felt familiar, where he knew the right responses, with two people who truly knew him. A shared history and experience where he wasn’t the outsider, the stumbling, broken newcomer who did everything wrong. Even better, they didn’t breathe a word about the horrors of Bayonne, instead just anecdotes of the victories in Spain, the relentless sun so different than England, a few times they’d been absolutely fleeced by locals when purchasing fresh food and supplies, and some of the most amusing moments involving hapless ensigns.

  Relaxing back in his chair, Gabriel exhaled slowly.

  Yes. This was exactly what he needed.

  “Daisy really is going to make you the most magnificent wardrobe. You’ll be the best-dressed woman in London.”

  Lilian smiled at Dawn as they climbed out of the ducal carriage and made their way toward the townhouse steps. Indeed, the fittings were a pleasure, and she could hardly wait for her new gowns to arrive so she could discard her old Grandmother-approved ones. Yesterday she had behaved much like a colonel, and taken command of the house. Now she needed to look the part, like a stylish and assured grown woman, not an awkward young lady. “I can’t wait to receive the first gowns early next week. The sooner I can discard the old ones, the better. I’m feeling much more like a duchess, now,” she replied, marching up to the front door.

  Only to nearly kiss the large brass knocker as the door didn’t open.

  Lilian firmly suppressed a curse of frustration. She could be a calm, cool duchess. She would be a calm, cool duchess.

  “Where is Norris,�
�� snapped Dawn. “I wish to give him a sample of my slipper heel.”

  “Form an orderly line,” muttered Lilian, under her breath. The blasted butler was very fortunate he reported directly to Gabriel. If he reported to her, he would be searching for new employment.

  At last, the door opened wide. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  “Norris,” she said shortly. Oh dear. Her vow to be calm and cool had lasted approximately one minute. “Please do explain why I was left on the front steps cooling my heels when I have an experienced butler and countless footmen.”

  The butler’s eyes widened, then an uncomfortably snake-like smile curled his lips. “My sincerest apologies. I was attending to the needs of His Grace and Mrs. Taylor.”

  Lilian froze. “Mrs. who?”

  “Taylor, madam. His Grace’s special guest, the one he invited to a private afternoon tea in his library. They’ve been talking for hours. Such merriment! Why, you can quite hear it from the hallway.”

  “Thank you,” she replied briskly, as her gaze darted left to the stairs, then right to the ducal library.

  She should go and refresh herself first, ensure her hair and gown were tidy before greeting visitors. And yet she wanted to march straight to the library and discover who this Mrs. Taylor was. Gabriel hadn’t mentioned his guest was a woman at breakfast. Of course, as duke, he could invite whomever he pleased, and yet…

  The omission hurt.

  “I’ll go and see to your armoire, ma’am,” said Dawn. “His Grace said to attend him as soon as you returned home, remember?”

  “Quite,” said Lilian, giving her a grateful look, and sweeping past Norris, she crossed the entrance hall to the library.

  While it went against everything she knew, Lilian didn’t knock on the door, instead just pushed it open and brazenly walked in. “Exton, I…oh, I do beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you still had company.”

  Two emotions hit her at once. Utter relief that her husband wasn’t cavorting with a lover; he sat on one side of his desk, while a beautiful redheaded woman, this Mrs. Taylor, sat on the other. Even better, Hobbs sat next to her. The second…sadness. The three of them had sounded so happy. And they’d stopped talking when she walked in, as though she’d thrown a bucket of icy water over them.

  Hobbs leaped to his feet, and the woman rose and clasped her hands behind her, her posture enviably straight.

  “Come in,” said Exton, beckoning her over. “Meet…ah, I mean may I present an old friend of mine…Mrs. Taylor. Aggie, this is my duchess. Lilian.”

  Lilian smiled as graciously as she could. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  Mrs. Taylor shot Exton an uncertain look, then curtsied. “Your Grace.”

  “Join us,” said Exton, although his invitation sounded polite rather than enthusiastic. “I’ll have more tea sent in.”

  “Very well,” she replied, swallowing her embarrassment, and gliding forward as though back in Kingsford house with a book on her head. After settling herself in a chair next to Exton’s desk, she faced both Hobbs and Mrs. Taylor. “What were you discussing? It sounded most amusing.”

  There was a brief pause as they exchanged glances, and Lilian fought against a surge of jealousy. And the urge to snatch the lovely, vibrantly beautiful Mrs. Taylor bald. Never had she felt so bland, so unexciting, than across from this assured older woman whose hair color resembled flames. She and Exton were clearly very close. The way they had smiled at each other, laughed together…and he looked like a different man. Relaxed. Roguish. Even more attractive than she thought possible. Were he and Mrs. Taylor former lovers? Her husband had sworn he didn’t have a mistress. Had he changed his mind? Was he going to travel down the path that her late fiancé had intended—a wife for the creation of heirs, and mistresses for pleasure?

  The questions whirled around in her head until she thought it might explode.

  “Lilian.”

  Oh dear. Gabriel’s tone and expression indicated he had been trying to get her attention for longer than she thought. “I apologize. I didn’t hear the question.”

  “Mrs. Taylor asked how you were enjoying…married life.”

  “Oh,” she replied, forcing a smile. “It is most adequate, thank you. Exton is a generous husband, I was away earlier being fitted for a new wardrobe.”

  And I hate the thought that he might have taken you the way he took me the night of the Castlereagh ball. Restrained your wrists, made you say wicked words as he pleasured you with his mouth. That he might have stayed in your bed all night with his brawny arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe.

  Mrs. Taylor smiled thinly. “Society ladies do need to dress well, I imagine.”

  Lilian stiffened. “Duchesses have many responsibilities. I welcome the challenge.”

  “Rather you than me, ma’am. I guess I prefer the simple life after so many years following the drum.”

  “We couldn’t have managed without your…expert care,” said Exton bestowing yet another warm smile on the redhead.

  “Quite,” said Lilian woodenly. “I commend your service to the army, Mrs. Taylor. They were indeed fortunate to have someone who cared so much.”

  Hobbs cleared his throat. “The regiment was blessed to have her as a healer. The best around.”

  “How lovely,” Lilian replied, as her stomach churned. She shouldn’t have marched in. Shouldn’t have practically forced them to invite her to stay. They wanted to speak of matters she knew nothing about, a past she wasn’t part of.

  “Not a word I would use,” said Mrs. Taylor, one eyebrow raised. “Gruesome, perhaps. Heartbreaking. Anger at the waste of human life. But every now and again we could use the word miracle. As in the story of our colonel—beg pardon, His Grace’s—survival against all odds.”

  “You saved his life,” said Hobbs, his gaze the softest she’d ever seen it.

  “Well, the field surgeons did a splendid job in the circumstances. But I will admit a special determination to not lose such a man—”

  “Please do excuse me,” said Lilian abruptly getting to her feet. “I am only intruding on your time to reminisce. Enjoy the rest of your visit, Mrs. Taylor. Good day to you.”

  And before anyone could say a word, she turned on her heel and hurried out of Exton’s library. Surprisingly, her husband snapped her name, followed by muffled voices as Hobbs and that woman attempted to soothe him, and her heart clenched with both regret and relief. But it was far better her leaving, before her curiosity got the better of her and she asked the wrong questions or made an ill-advised comment. If Exton found comfort discussing his horrific injuries with Hobbs and Mrs. Taylor rather than his wife, well, she would just have to bear that in silence.

  Wincing, Lilian ascended the staircase to the second floor as fast as she could without tripping or turning an ankle, although she slowed her pace along the hallway just in case there were any maids lurking. All she needed was a few minutes of privacy and she could regain her composure.

  “Lilian…”

  The furious growl from the top of the staircase froze her in place for precious seconds, then she bolted for her bedchamber. But before she could latch the door, her husband shouldered his way into her room.

  And slammed it shut behind him.

  So much for feeling ducal.

  The sound of the slammed door still echoing in the bedchamber, Gabriel marched toward his wife. Lilian might be occasionally stuffy, but never before had she been rude. And now she stood defiantly in the middle of the room.

  “You require something?” she asked, her face pale and chin lifted.

  Gabriel scowled. “Don’t you dare take…that chilly tone with me. Explain yourself. Explain how a lady could be so…so damned rude to a guest. You just left!”

  “I was doing you a favor,” she flung back.

  He frowned and moved even closer, until he stood barely a few feet from her. “What is that…supposed to mean?”

  “Y-you are obviously very close to Mrs
. Taylor,” she replied, her chest rising and falling, her delicate hands clenched into fists at her side. “And share memories of war I could never hope to understand. The last thing you need is a silly duchess who likes fashion to dull the party.”

  Gabriel blinked, utterly confused. Then as a thought dawned, he rubbed his jaw. “Aggie and I are not, and never have been, lovers.”

  “Oh, stop. I…I did not think that,” Lilian replied, blatantly lying to him.

  “You stop,” he bit out. “Aggie was married. To a captain killed during the siege of San Sebastian. We lost so many men…capturing the French garrison. But because of her nursing experience…and skill with herbals…the army requested she stay. She did. Thanks to her, I am alive today. Aggie cared for me…alongside Hobbs after Bayonne.”

  His wife stared at him, her lower lip trembling. “You have made it clear you are special friends. There is no need to belabor the point. Nor that you wish to speak with her of your time in the army, not me.”

  “The particulars aren’t…for a lady’s ears,” he snapped. “Or anyone’s, for that matter.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. Thank you for clarifying my role further. I am decoration, much like a chandelier or an urn. Not a helpmate. Or someone to share a bed with for the entire night. Just used and left without second thought.”

  Gabriel froze at the hurt in her words. At this point it seemed unlikely that he would ever understand his duchess. Or his own twisting, turning thoughts. Downstairs he’d been about ready to heave Lilian into some particularly prickly shrubbery after her behavior toward Aggie, thinking it aristocratic nonsense toward someone considered lesser because she wasn’t a daughter of the ton.

  But no. It seemed his cool, mostly proper wife considered Aggie a rival. Rather laughable, when he’d never seen his nurse as anything other than a friend he would be in debt to for the rest of his life. Besides the fact that Hobbs would probably turn from Nanny to nightmare if another man got between him and his sweetheart. Even now his library might be witnessing eye-opening acts, well if the two of them got their act together and stopped wasting anymore time, of course. But what the hell was Lilian talking about when she said he only saw her as decoration? He’d made it plain that he valued her contributions with Fairlie, and the way she’d taken the menus and townhouse in hand, hadn’t he?