“It grows more difficult, for Donovan’s actions are confusing.” Why did he show such kindness and near-affection if it was all an act?
“He is conflicted, no doubt by his own feelings.” Elizabeth smiled and briefly hugged her. “You have done all he has asked. And you’ve fallen in love with him; he cannot fault you for any of it.”
Yes, she was irrevocably in love with the duke. He’d been the first man to look past her blindness and accept her as she was, let her test her wings and her abilities without stifling her. “He has moments when I think he might return those feelings, but then he speaks of the curse and how much he wants it gone, and I’m plunged again into indecision.”
“He is a man, and men, for all their other wonderful qualities, do not often think with their hearts. Do keep that in mind.” Elizabeth shrugged and then stepped away. “I want a happy life for you and my brother. Everyone deserves love.”
“I believe that too.” Even Donovan’s wolf, for if the curse wasn’t broken, the beast would still remain.
“What happens now is out of your hands, so you might as well have a nice time this evening.”
“I shall try.” She grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me. You have helped calm my fears, for jumping into a duchess’ role as well as that of a newly married wife and a lifter of a curse is rather daunting.”
“I don’t know how you’ve managed it all without completely taking to your bed.” Elizabeth squeezed her fingers. “You are a stronger woman than I.” She paused and let her hand slide from Alice’s. “If I were in your position, loving a man who labored beneath a curse, I’m quite certain I couldn’t go the distance. As much as I adore my brother, that life… it’s too much to contemplate.”
A moment of clarity speared through Alice’s worry-clouded mind. “You speak about the Earl of Devon.”
“Yes.” That one-word whisper sounded pulled from her companion. She cleared her throat. “But that is a tale of another time. Rafe is in my past, and he must stay there for my own sanity, for if I let him in—”
A knock on the door interrupted whatever Alice might say in response. Donovan came into her dressing room, his spicy citrus scent preceding him.
“You don’t look half bad, brother,” Elizabeth said by of way of greeting. “You might just be deemed respectable yet.”
“Ah, that is the hope.” Nothing in his voice gave away his mindset.
She touched Alice’s shoulder. “I must go and make certain everything is as it should be by the time you and Donovan come downstairs.”
“Thank you.” The smart tap tap of her heels signaled her departure, and then the soft click of the door closing left Alice alone with her husband. “I assume you are as handsome this night as you always are,” she said by way of introducing light conversation.
“That is for you and our guests to judge.” He drifted close to her as a black blob. “However, yes, I look quite fine, and will provide the perfect foil for your beauty.”
Tingles of pleasure tripped down her spine. “Silver-tongued devil.” He might not love her like she desperately wished he would, but he had shown his affection for her in many ways over the course of their short marriage. Perhaps it was enough.
“Not a devil, love, a wolf.” He clasped her hand and drew her into the middle of the room, away from her vanity table and mirror. “You are exquisite, though. All eyes will be on you. I will fade away.” There was no mistaking the admiration in his voice.
Warmth filled her. “Will your eyes remain on me?” After tonight, would he stray once he had everything he’d dreamed of?
“How could I not look only upon you? Ah, Alice, you are beauty personified, and you still embody my sweet country flower.” He tugged her into his arms, caressed his finger along the side of her face, for he’d yet to don gloves. “I brought you a bouquet of roses before I came in. They’re on the table in your sitting room.”
“You are sweet, Donovan. Thank you.” She pressed herself against him and placed a kiss on his chin. “Shall I wear a bloom in my hair as I did on our wedding day?”
“It would be most appropriate.” As she looked up into his eyes, his brandy depths darkened, but from what emotion? “First, I wish to give you a gift.”
“You have already given me so much,” she protested, but he silenced her with the fleeting touch of a finger to her lips.
“You are my duchess, and it is my prerogative to give you baubles.” Donovan urged her to turn so that her back was to him. “You need adornment tonight, and pearls are just the thing.”
Alice trembled as the coolness of the gems fell against her collarbones when he slipped a strand about her neck. “I’ve never had pearls.” She touched the piece, surprised to feel a pendant at the front. “What is this?” It had the shape of a flower, not more than an inch in circumference.
“A flower that matches your ring. It was also part of my mother’s trousseau jewels. I want you to have it, for it speaks your name.” He put another strand of pearls into her hand the same time that he kissed the skin where her neck joined her shoulder. “There is also a bracelet, but it is merely pearls without a flower.”
Her heart fluttered. She held out her wrist and he took the bauble from her. Then he fitted the pearls around her right wrist, quickly doing up the clasp. “It’s too much.” He would spoil her if she wasn’t careful.
“There are times when I’m certain what I’ve given you isn’t nearly enough.” His voice was graveled, and since she couldn’t see his face or touch it, she had no idea what emotion gripped him. He let his fingers linger at her nape, her shoulders, and his touch sent awareness skittering through her body. “Shall we go down and greet our guests? I want all of society to know what a wonderful duchess you’re becoming.”
“Oh, Donovan.” Alice turned so quickly her skirts swirled about her ankles. She looped her arms about his neck and swiftly pressed a kiss to his lips. “Whatever happens tonight, know that I love you.”
“I do know it.” But that was all he said. Instead, he claimed her lips, treated her to long, drugging kisses that made her dizzy and weakened her knees. After a few minutes, he wrenched away and fitted his forehead to hers in an intimate gesture she was beginning to associate with him. “If only things were different…” He tightened his hold at her waist.
“There is no reason circumstances cannot change,” she gently reminded him while peering into his eyes. Emotions she couldn’t read clouded those depths, emotions he struggled with, kept to himself, and then his lids drifted closed, and she sighed. Cut off from those windows to his soul, she contented herself with fussing over the folds of his cravat, finger-combing strands of his chestnut locks from his forehead. His hair was unruly as ever, falling in waves to his collar, and she liked that he hadn’t had it cut to suit convention. Finally, she closed her eyes as well and stood within the circle of his arms.
Why couldn’t they remain here for the rest of the night?
Donovan stirred. He slipped from her hold, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from mourning the loss of his closeness. “I’ll just nab a rose before we join the festivities.”
Alice nodded. Despite the nerves that still fluttered in her belly, she couldn’t help but give in to the cold shivers of apprehension trailing up her spine. When he returned and fit the bloom into her upswept tresses over her ear, she sighed. “What color is it?”
“White, for innocence and purity. But when I asked Elizabeth the color of your gown a few days before, I had the florist die one of these lavender.” He fit his lips to her ear and said, “There are also red ones mixed within the arrangement, for passion.”
She couldn’t help but smile as he threaded her hand through his crooked elbow. A mix of red and white roses also signified unity. Perhaps unconsciously he thought of them together as a force within the ton. There might be hope for them yet after the full moon.
Later that hour, Donovan pulled her to the top of ballroom and called the room
to attention.
Alice waited with bated breath as she felt the weight of many pairs of eyes focus upon her. Loads of black and colorful blobs representing couples present stood before her. Pinpricks of candlelight danced through the white fuzziness that was her vision and the heat of so many bodies rolled through the room. Scents of perfume, talc, candle wax, and perspiration filled the air. The buzz of conversation trickled off and did nothing to calm the flutter of nerves.
“Thank you all for coming this evening. I’m pleased to see my ballroom filled with friends and acquaintances for what has been a culmination of an astonishing couple of weeks in my life.” After a wave of polite acknowledgement swept through the assembly, her husband continued. “It brings me great pleasure to formally introduce you to my wife Alice, the Duchess of Manchester.” He squeezed her hand. “She has been a singular bright spot in my life these days, and I look forward to how else she’ll transform my life.”
On the surface, the words were romantic enough, but only a few of the attending guests knew to what Donovan referred, and Alice quickly fell out of the charm that had poured over her since dressing for the event.
As the clapping and well-wishes faded, Donovan asked, “Shall we open the ball with a waltz?”
“Only if you lead your pretty wife out first,” someone called and Alice thought she recognized the speaker as his best friend, Rogue.
Then she swiftly inhaled. Her heartbeat accelerated in panic. No, no, no! He knows I’m not confident in these steps.
“Done and done,” Donovan responded, and with an arm about her waist, he propelled her over the marble floor until they gained the center of the dancing area. When he encouraged her into the correct posture and the opening strains of a popular waltz emanated from the five-piece orchestra, he flashed a grin. “Remember that night in the mill. Concentrate on me and you’ll carry the dance off as if you’ve been doing it all your life.”
He moved and she was swept into the dance, conscious of everyone in the room watching her—watching them. But when he pulled her closer to him and his face came somewhat into view and the earnestness and pride in his brandy depths registered, she relaxed and gave herself into his care.
Here, in the steps of the waltz, with him holding her steady and their bodies flowing as if cut from the same, liquid cloth, she forgot what else the night meant, let herself dream that he might return her love, consider her as more than a way to lift a curse.
Around and around he whisked her over the floor. Her skirts swished and flared about her ankles. The heady scent of the flower nestled in her hair wafted to her nose. The faint grin flirting with his sensuous lips captivated her; he’d looked devastating when he allowed himself to fully smile as he had two nights ago when he’d shown her his wolfish side. The tiny dimple in his left cheek made itself known, and he winked at her as they took yet another turn about the room.
Other couples joined them on the floor. Soon laughter and conversation flowed, echoing off the walls. Everything passed by in a dizzying blur, but Alice kept her focus on the man holding her, and he reeled her a tiny bit closer in what was quickly becoming a scandalous position.
She didn’t care. In this moment, he was completely hers and they moved together as if made exclusively for each other. The sure grip of his hand at the small of her back had her feeling protected. His hand holding hers imparted strength. Her skirts flowed about her legs and his. Each step caused her lower body, her legs to brush against his. That delicate friction sent heat through her and further ignited the fires that had begun when he kissed her after slipping the pearls about her neck.
In short, magic streamed about them and she wished the night would never end. In that tiny bubble, they were perfect for each other.
All too soon, the orchestra ceased playing and the waltz ended. Polite clapping broke out around them, and then Donovan offered his arm and he led her to the sidelines while a new set prepared to engage.
“I must circulate for a bit, but when I return, we’ll make full use of the gardens,” he whispered into her ear.
And then he was gone.
“Has there ever been a more beautiful duchess than you?” She turned her head toward the sound of a male’s voice, and when she frowned, he tentatively touched her hand. “Forgive me. I’m Viscount Mountgarret, a friend of your husband’s, but you may call me Valentine.” His blob of black came closer and she discerned red hair that tended to curl.
“Is that your given name or an endearment?” The salty scent of the sea merged with the more calming smell of plant life emanated from him. How… odd.
“Sadly, my given name, but most call me Mountgarret, if you’d rather.” He held out a gloved hand. “Would you care to dance?”
It would pass the time until Donovan came back, and the beginning of the end of their relationship began. “I would adore that, but you must remember I cannot see, and some of the dances require steps that are beyond me. I’d rather not be left open for gossip fodder.”
“Ah, I am not so heartless as to invite the tabbies. Allow me to escort you to the refreshments table,” he said in a smooth voice as he guided her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I’ll regale you with tales of your husband from earlier in his life.”
“Thank you for the kindness.” And she smiled. Perhaps life as a duchess wouldn’t be such an insurmountable obstacle as she’d thought.
Not long after midnight, Donovan returned to her side as she chatted with Elizabeth and some of Elizabeth’s friends.
“Fancy taking in the outside air with me?” he asked as he snaked an arm about her waist. The faint scent of brandy on his breath wafted to her. Had he been playing cards with his friends in the intervening hour or so? But then the aroma of a floral perfume not her own teased her nostrils. Had he danced with other ladies as the host or had he indulged in a dalliance? “My apologies, ladies, for taking the duchess from you. I only need her for a short time.”
“Behave yourself, brother,” Elizabeth said, and a warning wove through her voice even though she strove to keep the statement light.
Alice smiled up at him even while twisted through her stomach. His words were telling, and she forced a hard swallow into her suddenly dry throat. “That sounds lovely.” Please, please, please realize we can have a good life together no matter what happens tonight.
“Capital.” He led her about the perimeter of the ballroom, pausing here and there to return greetings. Three sets of garden doors had been thrown open to encourage the cool, autumn air into the room, and he guided her through one of them and onto the balcony beyond. “The moon is the second most beautiful sight tonight,” he whispered, and then he ushered her over the stone flooring. “There are three steps,” he warned, guiding her until soft grass crushed beneath the thin soles of her slippers, and the sharp crackle of an occasional dried leaf marked their passage.
While the noise of merriment faded into the background the deeper they went into the garden, Alice’s heart raced. She clutched at his arm, her thoughts scattered.
“Ah, here we are.” The tinkle of moving water gave away a fountain’s position and the heavy scent of roses, not yet dead from the cold, filtered to her nose. “Elizabeth tends to a few flowers out here. Gardeners look after the rest, but these around a fountain depicting Aphrodite are my sister’s favorites. I think working with her hands keeps her calm.”
Alice lifted her face to the moon’s glow. The chill in the air cooled her overheated skin and she burrowed into his side. “No doubt it’s quite lovely with the moonlight.” The whole of their married life came down to these handful of moments. Both excitement and dread mixed in her veins.
“It is. Think of the most wonderful garden frosted with silvery light.” He pulled her closer. “I wish you could see it.”
“So do I.” But she couldn’t, and never would. In other circumstances, such a spot would prove romantic and she’d enjoy it immensely, but now, with her nerves crawling and worry gnawing at her insides, she merely wan
ted him to get on with it. “Donovan, please. Do not draw this out. I must know…” She swallowed. “…what will happen.”
“As do I.” He led her a little away from the fountain. “Ah, here. The moonlight is not obstructed with trees and it pours down upon you.” He took her into his arms with a low carol of smug, triumphant laughter. “That lunar power calls to me, Alice. Demands to let my wolf out and run.”
She gave into a shiver that didn’t come from the autumn chill. “Will you, as a last homage to your beast?”
“No.” He layered his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. “I’m most anxious to send him on his way. Are you ready for your part in this?” Anticipation wove through his voice and sparkled in the brandy depths of his eyes.
My part. All the events leading up to this moment crowded into her mind as well as his motivation in them. Her heart twinged. “Yes.” Even if she wasn’t. Everything would change. Her stomach knotted. “I want you to find happiness, and if this gives you that—”
He stopped her words with a kiss so sweet and gentle it brought tears to her eyes. When he pulled away, she wanted to hold her breath, but she had to know.
“Did it work? Can you still hear your wolf?”
“Yes, damn it.” Annoyance flashed in his eyes as he stared at her. “Let’s try again.” He resettled her into his arms. Then he lifted his face to the heavens. “Hear me, gypsy witch, wherever you are. I have met your terms this night. Release your curse.” Donovan framed her in his hands and when he kissed her this time, it was a savage meeting of mouths. He took from her, left his undeniable stamp upon her, set her head reeling from the passion in the embrace, but he thrust her from him so hard she stumbled back a few steps in order to regain her balance. “Bloody hell. Why isn’t this working?”
Devil Take the Duke (Lords of the Night Book 1) Page 20
