Duke in Darkness (Wickedly Wed Book 1)

by Nicola Davidson

  His valet rolled his eyes, and expertly swished a razor against the back of Gabriel’s neck to complete the haircut. “Yes. In full and on time, which makes a nice change from the army. Although I swear there were less intrigues there than below stairs.”

  Gabriel frowned. “What is happening now?”

  “You’ll not believe this, but the missing ledger has been found.”

  “What?”

  Hobbs nodded sardonically as he patted a warm, damp cloth across the freshly shaved area. “Indeed. I overheard a few footmen talking about it while I fetched the hot water. I believe it’s been put back in your library.”

  “In time for this morning’s meeting…with the lawyers. How convenient.”

  “Precisely.”

  Anger bubbled. He would place a large wager on the ledger not being at all in the condition it had been taken. And he very much looked forward to the explanation of how or where it had been found when the entire townhouse had been turned upside down looking for it. But he couldn’t go into the meeting angry. Not with those two vipers Ormsby and Jacobs slithering in. He needed all his wits about him. “Will you attend?”

  Hobbs blinked. “Is Her Grace not free?”

  “Lilian has her last modiste fitting today. And then we are meeting at some musicale. A crony of Lady Kingsford’s.”

  The older man’s lips quirked. “A double punishment. Then I would be happy to act as your witness. I am inclined to think you have a strategy in mind.”

  “Come now, Hobbs. We are military men. If not one step ahead…we are dead.”

  “That is the truth.”

  “I’ll ask you to follow my lead. Even if it seems out of character. More flies caught with honey…than vinegar, and all that.”

  Hobbs saluted. “Yes sir.”

  A half hour later they were seated in the library. The missing ledger had indeed been returned, or should he say, a ledger had been returned. A similar black leather cover, and just as full with numbers and information, but the pages were whiter, far crisper and without the slight curl that often-thumbed documents had. Some poor bloody clerk had been given the task of copying the entire thing. Sans certain entries.

  Disgusted, Gabriel sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. If it weren’t for Fairlie and Lilian, he would never have even known about the fraud. In fact, if it weren’t for Lilian, he would still be in a dark, drunken haze, wearing ill-fitting shoes, and being fleeced by a collection of wretches. His wife had joined him in the ducal bed three nights in a row now, and while their torrid fucking may well have played a role in his ability to sleep without disturbance for a good four hours, just having her beside him helped quell the nightmares forever threatening to unleash.

  “Beg pardon, but Mr. Ormsby and Mr. Jacobs are here,” said Norris from the doorway.

  He nodded calmly. “Send them in.”

  Minutes later, the two lawyers bustled in, all false smiles and bows.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” said Ormsby ingratiatingly. “We are delighted to see you looking so well on this fine day. One could almost believe summer is coming!”

  “Quite,” said Gabriel. “Unfortunately Her Grace is in town…so won’t be joining us today. I asked my man Hobbs…to stand in as secretary.”

  The lawyer’s smile grew wider, like a damned wolfhound. “Good morning to you also, Mr. Hobbs. Aren’t you a man of many talents?”

  Hobbs grunted. “If you say so, sir. Not so good with numbers, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  Gabriel nearly laughed. Hobbs had missed his calling to the stage. On campaign, one task allocated to him had been the regiment record keeping, precisely because his note taking and dexterity with calculations had been so superior. “Shall we begin? I am relieved to inform you both…the misplaced ledger has been found.”

  The two visitors exchanged a swift glance.

  “From the Sussex estate?” asked Jacobs casually. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Entirely my fault,” said Gabriel. “Was here all along…and quite in order.”

  “Never mind, Your Grace,” said Ormsby in a kindly tone, so much like the young jewelry shop assistant that Gabriel wanted to punch him in the nose. “These things happen. Please know we take no offense at being accused. Will you be returning all the ledgers to our capable care now?”

  “Yes. In fact, I will deliver them personally.”

  The lawyer stilled for the barest moment, and Gabriel quickly pasted a blank smile on his face. Hopefully the loathing and distrust he felt for the man hadn’t come through in the words, because he needed the sewer rat to believe all was well.

  But Ormsby bowed. “As you wish.”

  Damned right, he wished. Knowing the layout of the lawyer’s office, where files were kept, what kind of security they had and so forth, was integral to the next step in his plan. As was having a copy of the man’s schedule, so he could arrive at just the right time.

  No one defrauded Gabriel Jordan-Ives. And finally he felt well enough to do something about it.

  The trouble with musicales, is that they were so rarely about music. More often, it was gossip. Or in her case, being interrogated.

  Lilian took a tiny sip of warm, rather sour lemonade, and tried not to grimace at the sound of a pretty dark-haired girl enthusiastically pounding at a pianoforte. The elderly attendees of the event had a significant advantage over everyone else; they wore feathered turbans that partially covered their ears. With one of those, at least then she could pretend not to hear the sly remarks and pointed questions from the older women around her. Lady Kingsford, naturally, sat in pride of place on a raised dais, and everyone else sat in chairs to her left and right, the audience seating in the music room shaped like a semi-circle.

  While a part of her couldn’t wait for Gabriel’s company, another part of her hoped he would never arrive. The other gentlemen here numbered less than ten, and in a run of stunning bad luck, one of them was Sir Roger from the Castlereagh ball. The dandy wore a truly eye-watering peach jacket, and obviously enjoyed being surrounded by so many attentive women.

  When at long last the set finished, the girl curtsied and left. The attendees moved back into their groups, and the music room again rumbled with the sound of twenty different conversations.

  “Sit up straight, Lilian dear,” her grandmother said, sotto voce. “You’ll grow a hump otherwise…”

  Lilian gritted her teeth. Just like at the last audience at Kingsford House, that same sense of helpless frustration assailed her. Grandmother smiled, and her tone rarely changed, but the criticisms hadn’t stopped since she arrived.

  “A red-striped gown? How…vibrant. And a little tight around the bodice, don’t you think?”

  “You’ve changed your hairstyle to a chignon, I see. That coiled braid always looked so appropriate.”

  “One berry tart is sufficient for a lady.”

  Obviously Grandmother had not yet found it in her charitable heart to forgive her eldest granddaughter for the Castlereagh ball incident, or for being publicly tearful. And while both her friends Joy and Leah, and Pippa and Georgiana sent her sympathetic glances, they didn’t dare cross the grande dame capable of ending their social aspirations in an instant. She would be trapped until assistance arrived in the unforgettable form of her husband.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Thank heavens.

  The group went silent, and fans whipped into action as Gabriel inclined his head and moved toward her. He walked with his cane, which somehow made him look even more dashing. Or perhaps it was the gray jacket, elaborate cravat, and black trousers he wore, a combination that made his hair and skin and eyes look even darker and more rakish.

  “Ah, Exton,” said Grandmother with a cool smile. “What a pity you missed the first set. Charming gel.”

  “Humblest apologies. I had a meeting. Lawyers.”

  “Hmmm. The fine gentlemen from Ormsby, Kane, and Vesper. Always so cour
teous and kind.”

  Lilian and Gabriel exchanged a speaking glance, and he made a non-committal sound.

  “How lovely to see you out and about, Your Grace,” said Joy, bravely changing the subject. “I hear you were shopping recently. Hoby’s and Rundell’s. Is lucky Lilian shortly to have something fabulous sparkling about her neck?”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. “Your sources are correct, Lady Joy. And the answer is yes.”

  “It’s truly lovely,” said Lilian, smiling as she remembered the sketch that Mr. Rundell had made, and Gabriel had approved. “Three strands of stones, with a single, larger oval-shaped stone in the middle.”

  Lady Kingsford’s brow furrowed, and she smoothed the single strand of matched pearls around her neck. “Not too large, I hope. One never wants to be vulgar, when displaying one’s wealth.”

  “Er…” she replied, flustered. “No. Of course not.”

  “I can’t imagine my beautiful wife…ever looking vulgar,” said Gabriel firmly.

  The women around him cooed, and the fans began fluttering once again. But her grandmother’s smile went from cool to cold; she did not like being contradicted about anything. Even as children, the Nash siblings had learned that the dowager Lady Kingsford made statements, and that was that. Father rarely spoke against her, although Mama often had. Probably another reason why Grandmother had disliked her so.

  “Newlyweds,” said Grandmother, in the kind of tone usually reserved for discussing unpleasant things like rats.

  Leah stepped forward and grinned at Gabriel. “Do tell us, Your Grace. You can’t keep it a secret any longer. When will you and Lilian be hosting your first ball? I’m sure it will be the event of the Season.”

  “I’m not sure, Miss Fenwick. Ask my duchess.”

  Lilian smiled and patted Gabriel on the arm. “We haven’t quite decided yet. I think perhaps to do a little decorating first. But I shall look forward to hosting such events at Exton House when the time is right.”

  Grandmother let out a tinkling laugh. “Without fisticuffs, one hopes. What a naughty boy you were, Exton. Poor Sir Roger still has the remnants of a black eye. Actually, I believe it would be best if the two of you made amends right this minute. My poor heart would be much eased. Sir Roger!”

  Oh God.

  As though she stood in the path of a runaway cart, her slippers nailed to the ground, Lilian could only watch in horror as Gabriel went as rigid as a statue. Another group of women moved closer, their eyes bright with anticipation of a most entertaining situation. And Sir Roger, that damned dandy with a brain made of cabbage, appeared next to Grandmother in a flurry of lace sleeves, peach jacket, and a cloud of heavy floral fragrance.

  “You called, my lady?” he drawled, bowing with a dramatic flourish.

  “I did,” the dowager replied. “Because I am quite, quite downcast at the thought of bad blood between you and Exton after that unfortunate ballroom incident. Do shake hands and be friends henceforth. I command it!”

  No. Oh no.

  Lilian’s mouth went bone dry, and a sort of squeak escaped that on another occasion might have been amusing. But not today. Not when her blasted grandmother had just ordered Gabriel to forget those terrible insults that had cut him to the core. And in such a way that if he refused, would make him look boorish. How could she be so awful?

  “Grandmother,” she croaked. “I think—”

  “What you think is irrelevant, Lilian. This is a matter of honor between gentlemen. Sir Roger said some silly things, and Exton quite forgot himself, but the matter will be done and dusted and spoken of no more once the two of them shake hands.”

  Sir Roger smiled triumphantly, and held out his hand like a king expecting an old-fashioned oath of fealty. Gabriel didn’t move.

  Oh God.

  If her husband shook the proffered hand, it made light of the repugnant words that had been said. But if he didn’t, it would create another scandal and the ugly whispers and gossip about him would never cease. Grandmother would be furious. Xavier, Pippa, and Georgiana would be the ones to suffer living under the same roof, and it might hurt Georgiana’s budding romance.

  More miserable than she’d ever been in her life, Lilian looked up at Gabriel beseechingly. “Please,” she whispered. “For me.”

  For a moment he looked as though she’d slapped him. Then his gaze iced over. But he reached out his hand, clasped Sir Roger’s for the barest moment, and dropped it back to his side.

  “See?” said Lady Kingsford approvingly, her smile reverting to the usual cool as she smoothed a non-existent crease in her lilac gown. “Everything is mended. Now. Let us all sit down, the next musical set is about to start. No, Pippa, you may not read instead…”

  Lilian barely stifled a sob.

  Mended?

  Already she knew she’d made the wrong decision. A terrible one. So much for her roar—at a truly critical moment, she’d been a mouse rather than a lioness, and with three words spoiled all the closeness she and Gabriel had built. Once again, she had crumbled to her grandmother’s will.

  And now Gabriel might never forgive her.

  A few good days and he’d turned into a complete fool.

  Gabriel stared unseeingly out the carriage window as they returned home from the musicale, his composure hanging by a thread after yet another ton occasion that had turned into a disaster.

  You didn’t really think your wife was loyal, did you? That she would choose you over her damned grandmother? Witless fool. You aren’t worthy of that. Not an ugly failure like you…

  Embarrassingly, he’d gone into a situation like a green ensign rather than an experienced colonel. He knew Lady Kingsford’s methods, how she lied and manipulated. The old woman might be a dowager countess, but he was a goddamned duke, and still he’d allowed her revolting string-pulling games: calling him a naughty boy, as though he’d torn his breeches climbing a fence, and commanding him to shake hands with a man who had publicly insulted him in the worst of terms.

  Far worse, he’d done it. He’d bloody well shook hands, meek as a little lamb, still reeling from the unexpected blow of Lilian imploring him to obey her grandmother’s grotesque request rather than standing with him. Now he couldn’t wait to get home so he could scrub his palm raw with lye soap. The handshake with Sir Roger might have been the quickest in history, but he still felt contaminated.

  Gutless fool. Worthless fool.

  Failure.

  “Gabriel?”

  He stared across the swaying, rocking carriage to where his wife sat. His perfect, whole, beautiful wife in her elegant red-striped gown. The woman wearing his ring that he’d confessed his darkest moments to. The woman who’d claimed he had her loyalty and affection, and was a fucking liar.

  “Yes?” he bit out.

  Lilian paled, and twisted her fingers together in her lap. “You are, um, very quiet.”

  “If you require constant amusement…I suggest a pet. But only if Lady Kingsford approves…of course.”

  She flinched. “I was thinking of us. A future without that ball scandal hanging over our heads.”

  “Were you indeed,” he replied, raising a mocking eyebrow. Christ, he needed to get out of this carriage. It was getting harder and harder to quell the urge to tear something apart, and he had no desire to replace torn curtains, displaced leather squabs or a broken window.

  “Let me explain,” Lilian burst out, leaning forward. “Grandmother has dictated half my life and wields enormous power. Everything I had, granted or withheld by her, and no one said a word, not even Father. The ton worships her. She can ensure someone is accepted or cut. I want you to be accepted! And she controls the household. She would have punished my sisters and brother because of me. I couldn’t bear that.”

  Anger surged until it felt like some part of him might explode. “I am Duke of Exton. I do not care…what a pack of…perfumed dandies and she-wolves think. The peers I respect…know the man I am. They respect me…for my service. My
experience. Not for what…bloody damned jacket I wear. Or party I attend.”

  “But that’s what I want,” said Lilian, failing in her attempt to take his hand as he deliberately folded his arms. “For everyone to see you as a brilliant war hero. Not as the man who punched a dandy unconscious in a ballroom.”

  Gabriel’s jaw dropped. How could she not see that she had achieved the exact opposite? That piece of filth with his garish jackets and drawling voice had said a decorated colonel in the British army had allowed himself to be captured and tortured. That he was incompetent. Responsible for the deaths of hundreds of men. To have those comments dismissed as ‘silly things’ and be publicly compelled to shake hands with the man who said them as though they’d drunkenly come to blows over who had the superior horse…was unendurable.

  “N-no,” he snarled, further humiliated as he lost control and his speech grew even worse. “You w-weren’t thinking…of me. You were thinking…of you. Your station. Your reputation. Obeying…your g-grandmother. But you are…my wife. You know the truth. Of the b-battle…and that dandy’s…slander. And you said…nothing.”

  Lilian bowed her head and stared at her hands, but not before a single tear trickled down her pale cheek. “No. I didn’t.”

  Now it just felt like someone had torn a hole in his chest and clawed his insides out. He should have known she wouldn’t choose him. She wasn’t Hobbs, or Aggie or Emily Castlereagh who had known him a long time and wouldn’t falter.

  Why the hell did this hurt so much?

  Because you are the worst of fools.

  A man who loves, but is not loved in return.

  Gabriel flexed his jaw in an effort to quell the pulling ache around his facial scar. On top of everything, he’d spoken too much. Lilian made a noise as though she would say something else, but he held up a hand and she instead sat silently and rigidly in the corner of the carriage. Despite the pale golden rays of late afternoon sunlight coming through the windows, a darkness had descended on the carriage, a heaviness that sat on his shoulders like a load of boulders. He’d just learned a harsh yet valuable lesson on how fleeting happiness could be, come and gone in a few days. But as he knew better than most, that was the way of the world. He needed to stop craving more. The only thing down that path was gut-wrenching disappointment.